There seems to be a perception that working in the service industry is something to be ashamed of.

I enjoy my job, which is more than most people who work in offices can say. In the past month I've handled two medical emergencies and helped a young mother with an awful fear of flying run away from an abusive, drug abusing boyfriend.

There's nothing wrong with enjoying what you do and there's nothing wrong with enjoying being a stew. I have many, many friends in the industry with degrees in various fields (business admin, urban studies, and multiple nurses). Finding fulfillment is about more than having a big title to brag about.

Furthermore, I DO have other ambitions. This job gives me plenty of time to write and read and I want to get my pilot's license. Plus, I get to take trips all over the world for pennies, which is pretty damn cool.

I mean, I appreciate the sentiment. I get that I'm working in the service industry and I could probably find something better paying with a more important title. But on the other hand, most of my college friends are working low paying jobs at retail positions, so it's not like I'm doing that much worse than the rest of them. I'm glad to have any job, much less a job that lets me fly the planet on a whim.

I am eating instant oatmeal out of a cup that I made in a hotel bathroom with an instant coffee pot. Who said the airline industry isn't glamorous anymore?

What's wrong in American politics

In Washington DC for the "night" with a whopping 4 hours of rest period.

Shower status: cold cold cold cold cold cold OH GOD MY SKIN IS GONE HOT HOT HOT frostbite.

I think I've solved the political gridlock in our country, guys. First order of business: more warm showers for all.

liars, dirty liars

I know it's been a long time since the last post. It is of course this restlessness of spirit (a fancy way of saying that I have a short attention span) which makes my job so perfect, but proves a challenge to my blooming career as a blogger.

So what could quell this flight attendant's flightiness? Why, being stranded in an airport during a blizzard, of course! Today happens to be the first major snowstorm of the season in Detroit, and I am so lucky as to be sitting on airport reserve. Airport reserve means hanging out in the airport in case of unforeseen emergencies with another assigned crew, such as a flight attendant getting injured at the last minute, traffic delays on the way to the airport, or the always likely food poisoning from Taco Bell. So basically, I'm here in case something bad happens and mostly just have free time to wander the airport and daydream. 95% of the time, you don't get called to fly.

Days like today are especially interesting or infuriating to spend people watching. It's no wonder so many sitcoms use the "stuck in the airport near a holiday" trope, because nights like tonight really bring out the crazy hysterics in people. Unfortunately, unlike in sitcoms, real airport delays don't end in warm and fuzzy moments of insightful family togetherness. Instead, they end in bitter fights over travel pillows, arguments over whose turn it is to watch the luggage, restless sleep on airport benches, and hateful stares at the gate agents, flight attendants and pilots who so clearly wished this discomfort upon them.

There are no moments of family togetherness when airports are shut down for weather, unless one unified hatred for the airline industry and all its representatives count as bonding.

Let me elaborate. Though today is expected to be the biggest storm so far for Detroit, we haven't actually seen a single flake yet. Therefore, everybody here is furious that their flight has been delayed or canceled.

"What do you mean, delayed due to weather?!" incredulous passengers always rage, "it's perfectly clear out there!"

"I'm flying with ________ Airlines next time, this is ridiculous!"

"It's just a little snow!"

"My brain doesn't work right and I don't understand basic geography or physics! I'm so angry, I'm going to go suffocate my feelings with a Cinnabon, though I may need to rest on the moving sidewalk along the way."

Okay, so the last one is clearly an excerpt from my imaginary narrations, but the point is valid. It's not snowing here or in a lot of the destinations, but airplanes aren't like bus routes. One plane doesn't just fly back and forth between two destinations like a bus or a subway car. A plane flying to Louisville, Kentucky might have come from Minneapolis/St. Paul, Minnesota, then fly to Detroit then Kennedy, back to Detroit and then to Florida.

So, just because you're going from Detroit to Florida doesn't mean a storm in Minneapolis won't cause a delay. If there's no other spare plane/crew that can be easily thrown together, you'll just have to wait.

It's not as if airline employees are sitting in the back rooms of the airport cackling and counting the bonuses we get for canceling flights as the passengers attempt to form suitable bedding from the contents of their suitcases, nesting up like hamsters in cedar. We're just as tired, just as frustrated, just as abused by the prices of airport eateries, and just as stranded as our passengers. We want to go home too.

I realize it's incredibly frustrating to be delayed or canceled, but when I walk through the airport in my uniform on nights like tonight, I can't help but notice the expectant glances and angry stares. I try to smile as passengers find it cathartic to approach me, at best making overplayed jokes about airline reliability and at worst, shaking with rage and their insistence that they'll fly another, more competent airline next time.

I try to bite my tongue and smile because that's what they want, not a lesson on weather patterns or geography. I try not to tell them that Richard Branson is already moving into space and if any airline is going to acquire a weather machine, it'll be Virgin.

But until Richard Branson completes his world domination (my estimate is 2023), you'll just have to trust that a weather delay is legitimate, even if it looks sunny where you're sitting. I don't expect you'll use the time to form introspective bonds with your travel companions, because that just happens in sitcom airports. For the rest of us, there's always sudoku.

the little things

I feel like there a few joys so simple and yet so wonderful after a 12 hour day on a plane as discovering that your hotel room has a microwave.

Slam.

Click.

Ireland was lovely, just plain lovely. We had pretty fantastic weather, considering we were going to Ireland in the end of September/start of October.

On the advise of a rather charming old Irish man we met in a bar, we took a day trip to Bray. We had been promised a miniature Irish Coney Island, go-karts, arcades, and candy galore.

Of course, it being the waning days of September, this summery seaside resort had all but shut down. Some sparse lonely ice cream and sweet shops remained open but the few tourists meandering about clearly had no interest, as the saltwater breeze forced all jackets closed and faces down to avoid the wind.

Not to be deterred, we set our sights high.























Although we were woefully under prepared for such a hike in our dresses, tights, and ballet flats, we decided to go for it anyway. The path starts nice enough with a paved road to follow. The pavement soon turns to stone, and the stone into stone steps. We thought we were in for an easy and relaxing stroll, but it soon turned from pavement to dirt and from dirt to mud and loose rock.

Bre and I were feeling pretty mighty as we huffed and puffed up the side of the hill, until a man of almost 70 passed us with a cheery, "Good mornin' girls!" (though in our defense, the area we come from is flatter than Keira Knightly, so such a climb is not an every day trip for us).

We finally made it to the top, our tights torn from the brush and our Midwest butts burning from the unaccustomed feel of any type of geographical incline whatsoever.

Remember that tiny little cross? Yeah, not so tiny.



















But an incredibly beautiful view.

Photos are property of Bird in Boots.

I have an amazing life to be lucky enough to randomly bump into friends at airports in all corners of the country and have it feel entirely normal. I love coming in from an international flight, changing airports, and feeling tired and frustrated only to bump into a friend and have it completely reinvigorate the trip.

Flying is awesome and this life style is addicting and so very breathtaking. Every day of my vacation has reminded me of how much I love this career I accidentally stumbled into.

The grass really IS always greener on the other side, at least when you're heading to Ireland in a day!

See you on the other side of the Atlantic.

Hey baby, what's your number?

Airline employee's lives are governed by seniority. The most senior crew members get their choice of trips and their positions on the plane. The relative prestige of the flight attendant in comparison to their coworkers is intricately linked to their date of hire.

The junior people get to sit around and hope/not hope that somebody falls ill, has car trouble, or is otherwise incapacitated so they can get back on a plane.

All airlines do reserve slightly different, but it's all the same idea. The airline industry is a beast of unpredictability. As such, all airlines keep a pool of "reserve" flight attendants and pilots who do not carry a regular schedule.

Instead, they get to spend their reserve time at home or in the crashpad, waiting for a two hour call out to head to the airport.

Reserves can also be assigned a special spot in hell called airport reserve, where they spend their time wandering terminals, frequenting airport coffee shops, staring lustfully out the window (at sweet, sweet freedom), or hiding in basement crew rooms watching cartoons (maybe that's just me).

In the interest of fairness, airport reserve isn't all that bad. There are worse things than getting paid to watch TV and play peekaboo with babies over their parent's shoulders. It's the easiest job in the world, though often very boring. I don't think I can ever get tired of airports entirely, but I do get tired of overpriced airport food and coffee. I get tired of pressing my uniform every day just to sit around, wait and read.

But mostly I get tired of having my feet on the ground.

Babes in Arms

It's probably a parents' worst nightmare that the comforting grip of their arms might be the most dangerous place for their baby. Most of the young children I see aboard my aircraft are not safe.

According to FAA regulations, it is entirely legal to hold a child in an adult lap aboard an aircraft until the child reaches their second birthday. The FAA simply recommends but does not require that children below the age of two have their own seat and use a child restraint system. They also do not require any specialty devices for children who are too small to safely use the adult sized lap belt equipped by the aircraft.

I understand the appeal of saving a few extra hundred dollars by holding the tot. I would counter that in at least two years you'll have to make the decision to either drive or purchase an extra seat anyway, so it may be a good time to start considering alternate means of transit or start budgeting for all the plane tickets your family requires.

I also understand that most people assume if the plane goes down, the safety belt probably isn't going to do them a lot of good. On the contrary, as pilot Patrick Smith has continuously pointed out in his "Ask the Pilot" column on Salon, plane crashes quite often have survivors. Planes are not designed with aspirations to burn, explode, or otherwise maim their passengers in the event of an accident. Survivors of plane crashes are not miracles, unless you count some of the most brilliant engineering minds in the world as miracles.

Planes are designed with your safety and survival in mind. That being said, most accidents don't happen when a plane suddenly drops from the sky. Rather, most accidents statistically happen during takeoff, meaning you might not even be off the ground when you're in the most danger.

However in either case, if you are not wearing your seat belt or your child is being held in your arms, your chances decrease exponentially, as you'll be splattered on the nearest bulkhead before you have the chance to escape.

Parents can't imagine that they would let their baby go in an accident. What could be safer than nestled in their parents chest? However, as the Yale-New Haven Children's Hospital reports,

When traveling in a car, your arms are the most dangerous place for your baby. In a low-speed, 30 mph crash, even a tiny 10-pound infant would be ripped from your arms with a force of almost 300 pounds and crushed between your body and the windshield and dashboard.

Now, let's take that recipe for Baby Pancake, multiply it by AIRPLANE, and you see the concern. There's simply no way that a baby held in their parents arms is safe in the event of an accident. The baby would shoot out of their parents arms, not only harming the baby, but also turning the child into a dangerous projectile to all other passengers.

Switching gears, it's not just the horrific plane crashes that cause concern, but the everyday occurrence of turbulence. Most turbulence is mild to moderate and at worst prohibits the flight attendant from serving coffee (although in my experience it doesn't prohibit caffeine deprived passengers from asking). Often, the crew is warned prior to the bumps and are able to sit down, secure their workplace, and brief the passengers on the upcoming bumps.

However, while most turbulence is nothing to be concerned about, because turbulence can be rough and can happen so unexpectedly, it can present a danger. On one United flight in July, 30 people were injured during strong unexpected turbulence, flying up from the floor and hitting the ceiling. The people injured were out of their seats or not wearing seat belts.

Again, holding an infant sounds like a safe idea, but they're only as strapped down as their parent. Often, parents don't even keep their kids in their arms for the flight (I find that understandable. Kids are warm, wiggly, and often covered in Teddy Graham crumbs), instead letting them play on the floorspace between their feet or in the aisle. Again, I understand. It's hard to convince most adults to sit still for a few hours on a plane, much less a child. However, in the event of unexpected turbulence, the child is not in the safest position.



In addition, there are many children who are too big for car seats and too small for the lap belt of an aircraft to really protect them. A child perched on their knees and peering out the window with the lap belt buckled but dangling off the edge of the seat may as well not be wearing it at all. In order for a seat belt to protect you and your children, it needs to be pulled tight against the lap (it should probably be noted that this advice goes for adults too).

Solutions
Most hardback car seats for children should also have a sticker indicating their approval for use by the FAA. If you're traveling with an infant and you can spare the hands, bring your car seat. It buckles into the seat just as it does in your vehicle at home. Note that booster seats cannot be used, only the hardback seats with the harness.

You will also have to place the infant in the window seat, as the car seat can block the aisle in the event of an emergency evacuation.

A few things about infant car seats:
1. Call your airline beforehand and ask about their policies on infants. Many airlines will not charge you for an infant if there is a seat available anyway. If you get there with the car seat and no seats are available, most of the time they'll be happy to gate check the car seat for you and as soon as you get off the aircraft, you'll have it back.
2. Try to book flights during low load times, increasing the chances that there will be an open seat on the aircraft.

In addition, there is a fantastic child restraint system called Cares, available for that group too big for a car seat but too small to ride safely with the lap belt alone. It's a great item because it's simply a harness that attaches to the seat belt already installed in the aircraft. It takes seconds, keeps children safe, and most importantly, folds up into a tiny carrying case to be easily thrown into a carry on. You can purchase one at www.kidsflysafe.com .




The airline industry spends a lot of time making sure people know the statistics about their safety in flight, and it's true that flying is incredibly safe. It's true that you're far more likely to be hurt in an accident on the way to the airport than on the flight. However small the chances are though, it's always better to err on the side of caution and buckle up--both you and your children.

Flighty

Among the many benefits to becoming a flight attendant, I told myself, was the immense time I could devote to the craft I'd spent four years at university also completely neglecting: writing. Having become a flight attendant in the spring of 2010, I told myself I would finally do it. I had the inspiration, the time, and of course the endless adoration of the nameless internet fans bound to fall in love with my blog and offer me sponsorship, money, and a book deal to pad my otherwise sparse bank account.

I created this blog in June 2010, wrote one mediocre entry describing my crescendo into the world of airlines, and then promptly forgot it existed at all.

That's one problem with being a flight attendant; sometimes, I just feel well--flighty. I had romantic thoughts of sitting in a cozy terminal corner with my airport-priced coffee in one hand and a pen stuck thoughtfully to my lips with the other. I'd observe the frenzied crowds and discover the next great American novel coded in their chaos.

Instead, after time I found the chaos exhausting, the crowds overwhelming. After hours serving on a plane, I often find myself collapsing into a dark, isolated corner, the quietest spots in the busiest places in the world. I gulp a coffee and forgo my diet completely for the messy embrace of a chocolate muffin, closing my eyes and reminding myself that nobody around knows me well enough to judge. I often just want to close my eyes and hope nobody approaches me in query of the location of their baggage.

However, this is my resolution: fatigue is no longer an excuse. I'm more than just an employee of an airplane and I don't want to lose my thoughts to the sky. This job makes holding relationships difficult, but while it is hard to lose touch with your friends, it is especially sad to have lost touch with yourself.