Memories from a Former Flight Attendant

The first flight I worked from Dallas to Acapulco is easily remembered despite the many years that have passed. I was fortunate to get this international trip which was usually assigned to bi-lingual Flight Attendants who could make announcements in Spanish and English.

I had pulled a stand-by reserve schedule, being as I was too junior to win a standard route with predictable flights. On 24 hour stand-by, we were called out for last minute assignments to cover for flight attendants who were ill or who missed their connection for whatever reason.

When Scheduling called, wherever it was, we went with as little as an hour's notice. Sometimes it was Omaha or Detroit; other times, it could be Hawaii. That predawn morning the way too cheerful voice told me,“Get your sun tan lotion and swim suit packed, you’re heading to Acapulco!”

Flight Attendants bid on their schedules and were awarded monthly routes based on seniority. A reserve schedule consisted of nine specified days off scattered randomly through the month. Ideally the schedule would have a couple of the days off in a row. The other 21 days we might not fly at all but we were on 24 hour reserve and could be sent out anywhere with a one hour notice. We kept a suitcase packed and ready by the door.

There were no cell phones but pagers could be purchased at our own expense. We were cautioned if the pager failed and we missed a scheduling call we could be put on suspension. Being on probation the first 90 days made that a big risk. The base salary was such that rookies were unable to afford a pager. Overtime was rare as there was no shortage of labor. The airlines were graduating a class of recruits each week in anticipation of new routes being awarded.

Most of the time we would get at least a few hours notice of a trip assignment, or if we were really lucky, scheduling would call us to assign us a trip for the following day. That would provide an opportunity to get out of the house for a few hours without worrying.

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One of my first assignments after training was to work a Kansas City Meal Run. This was a grueling series of commuter flights where hot meals were served during the one-hour and ten minutes flight duration. Usually the planes were completely full of commuters and business travelers.

We didn't use the rolling service carts seen on planes today. Our PSK (passenger service kits) remained locked in the storage section of the galley. We literally ran the meals trays up the aisles stacking them several deep in our arms to make less trips. We would collect the trays while serving second coffees.

Three flight attendants worked the coach section: one worked in the galley pulling entrees out of the ovens and setting up meal trays; another would run meal trays to passengers while the third served cold and hot beverages. The other two Flight Attendants on board worked First Class.

After serving a series of two or three meal flights, the crew was literally out of breath awaiting the onslaught of passengers for the next flight segment. 

The passenger report detailing how many were expected on board was delivered to the Senior crew member prior to passenger boarding. The Senior on board would assign duty stations and advise the rest of the crew about passenger capacity on the next leg. One senior, following a couple of exhausting meal runs, told the rest of us the next flight segment was a fully loaded plane.

The three of us newbies groaned quietly as we started icing dozens of glasses in the coach section before takeoff. As it turns out, only a sprinkling of passengers actually got on board. The two seniors thought it was a hoot watching us hustle for nothing. Sort of an initiation ritual it turns out. Harrdee harhar. We all had a good laugh through clenched teeth.

Braniff Airlines cut expenses by housing flight attendants on a crew layover two people per hotel room. After serving up to fourteen hours of duty, a flight attendant might get stuck in a room with the same practical joker they'd flown with all day.

If there was a layover that included male flight attendants, depending on the numbers and genders of the crew; the odd person out would be assigned a room to themselves. That was often the hope, not the reality.

Our flight arrived well after dark and by the time our crew went through customs check and took the shuttle to our hotel it was late. Despite that, I wanted to get out and see the sights before our early flight out the next morning.

Our hotel was located a short walk from the ocean in a tropical paradise. When I mentioned taking a walk on the beach, a pilot told me that wasn't safe at night so I scrapped the idea. Shopping was over for the evening as well so I tried to talk my bilingual crew mate into going to the hotel lounge.

We were not allowed to drink alcohol while wearing our uniforms and she was one of those Flight Attendants who never brought street clothes for layovers, as an excuse to stay in the hotel room. I offered to loan her some of mine in hopes she'd come along to interpret and keep me out of hot water. At first, she protested.

“I’ve already seen the lounge,” she told me irritably.

But after a little persuasion, we headed downstairs together where we enjoyed a nice evening of good conversation and lively music, becoming friends of sorts, for a short while. When we returned to our hotel room, she confiscated my alarm clock and hid it in her suitcase saying the noise bothered her.

By then it was so late I just wanted to get some sleep which at that point was nearly impossible. I kept waking up all night, checking my watch wondering if she would really get me up on time, or as a joke, wait until the last minute. Turns out she was true to her word and I worried over nothing. All in a day's work.