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Diary of a flight attendant's reserve days

Day 1: Surprise! You have a three-day trip.

Sometimes the hardest part about this job is having to bear witness to the gross things people do. Wearing socks to the bathroom. Going barefoot to the bathroom. Blowing their nose on a tissue and then staring at it, right in front of you as you walk down the aisle.

A lady once asked if she could peel what looked like a dozen hard boiled eggs in the galley during boarding. She held up the plastic baggie. "I don't want it stinking up the row, you know?"

I just looked at her straight in the face until she walked back to her seat.

That's not to say I'm exempt from judgement. I'm banking on getting paid to stay home and do chores while on reserve, because sometimes that's the only way I'm motivated. But Instead of getting paid to wait by my phone, the ringer goes off at 3:15 in the morning for a 6:15 report time. I nearly have a heart attack since I turned the volume high, so no snoozing to be had. I packed my bags the night before for off-duty clothes, but when I look in my closet I realize almost every uniform piece lay at the bottom of my dirty laundry pile.

That means donning the only clean piece (a dress) and stuffing dirty shirts and a skirt in my suitcase to wash out the armpits in the hotel sink later.

Voila! A professional flight attendant in action.

I get to the airport early enough, but between waiting for the parking shuttle and getting through security, I don't have enough time to grab breakfast. I realize this after trying two different café lines and looking totally peeved to be awake that early. Sorry, I can't control my expressions before 9 am.

I get on board the plane and see a familiar face from a previous trip, and the rest of the crew seems cool. As a bonus, our layovers are scheduled in warm places which I'm all about these days.

After six hours of being in the air (not counting time between flights or transport to the hotel), I'm wiped and starving when we land in Miami. The airline puts us up in a nice hotel by the airport with a strip mall full of restaurants across the street. I like my crew but the thought of making conversation over dinner makes me want to lay face down on the floor. I force myself downstairs anyways.

Half of us want to eat pizza and half of us feel more like sushi, so we part ways. Lynn and I sit down and I order a Sapporo and some dry sake because it's the only kind of marriage that makes sense.

The thing I probably love most about this job is how much people can surprise you. Even as a flight attendant myself, I sometimes get caught putting people in boxes. Lynn seemed pretty aloof and not interested in anything but talking (and not listening), but she ends up being very insightful. We have a deep conversation about writing process and our romantic relationships.

The boys came over to sit with us after they ate their Italian food and persuaded us to walk a few blocks for ice cream before we headed back to the hotel.

Day 2: My first medical

The day starts early again with a 7:30 am pickup (which means 4:30 am PST). Thankfully, there's empty seats on the first flight to La Guardia. This is lucky because I've heard passengers love to bring three or more carry-ons on that route so boarding is usually a disaster. 

Then on the way from La Guardia to Atlanta, a woman comes back to the galley with a baby slung over her shoulder. She looks worried and it turns out she's the grandma.

My crew member also comes to the aft galley and tells me the baby isn't breathing very well. I hear the flight leader already paging for a medical volunteer. Thankfully a nurse and a pediatric doctor get out of their seats and make their way to the back. My crew member and I grab the oxygen bottle from its stowage location, make sure it's on the right setting and hand it over to the doctor.

We had just finished beverage service so the cart was still out, giving the volunteers a space to lay the baby. I don't see how serious it is until I see the baby's chest cave in with every inhale. The mom stands over the baby's head, talking into her ear and trying to calm her down.

They stay like that for the last hour of the flight, while we make sure an extra tank sits ready for the baby and keep other passengers away from the galley. The flight deck lets us know that we won't be diverting anywhere, so all we can do is wait.

The mom and the baby sit between the medical volunteers for landing, and the flight leader makes an announcement for everyone to stay seated so EMS can come onboard before deplaning.

Overall, it goes as smoothly as a medical event can. We'll probably never know how the baby's doing, but she got help as soon as possible.

And then we still have a two hour flight from Atlanta to Austin. Needless to say, I need a stiff drink.

Day 3: In Austin

Even though I really want to go out with the boys to the gay bar, I opt for sleep instead and head downstairs for a nightcap before passing out. I sleep from 10:30 pm to 10:30 am, and wake up to a clear day in Austin.

Finally, some fresh air and sunshine! I put on running shoes, grab my water and headed over to a coffee shop to get some real coffee, not that weak hotel shit. I down a Cortado and head out on the familiar trail by the river which swarms with fit, good looking Austinites.

I guess I forgot to pick up my feet because the next thing I know I'm tripping over the sidewalk and falling superman style into dirt and branches. A dad and his son ask if I'm okay and fetch my water bottle for me. Later, I discover that my phone had smashed into my hip, shattering the screen and trapping blood in it. I don't even notice in the midst of my embarrassment.

Besides some soreness, it's a great run along the river with a live soundtrack from a couple of buskers. I spot a turtle swimming in the creek and pet a pit bull puppy. Later, I blind everyone at the hotel pool with my pale skin.

We complete our two legs back to Seattle that day without any hitches and I crawl into bed after midnight.

Safe to say, it's my most eventful set of reserve days yet.

Stay fly,

Megan