A Star Is Born ?

A Star is Born...

Scary as it may have seemed, brave as I was, self-confident as I felt, I believe I mastered each and every one of the initial stages pertaining to my advancement as a Purser.

I must also ascertain my lovely reader that none of the above was exteriorized. I appeared calm and extraordinarily strong to anyone with whom I came in direct contact with.

Knowing I had all the qualities to perform, I went ahead as if I had done this all my life. I oozed with a wonderful energy that I was careful to hide.

From crew briefing to boarding to fullfilling my new duties, from one end, high above the Atlantic, either East or Westbound, to the final de-briefing, back at base.

Upon my first P/A announcements, I did follow the written instructions dutifully, in a quiet fashion, stressing on my diction so that I would be clear. The emergency drills are important and my voice had the necessary inflection. Not too dramatic but enough for people to catch their attention. 

I knew it was at that point I could really make a difference and , by God, I loved each second !

But quickly, it dawned on me that  half of the cabin paid absolutely no attention, no matter which tone my voice played...

Yes!  And with this sharp awakening to a sad reality , I , myself, felt that I had become bored by the mechanicality of it all... at the same time I had observed how desinterested a flight audience I had.

 I became afraid to appear too "stereotyped" thus lose the passion for it. 

Improvisation had begun its tickling and imagination had come to my rescue.

After a couple of flights, I had thrown away the book . I knew it by heart. After the usual life-saving announcements, which were given with the proper dramatic gravity, I had switched elegantly over to the ' free' text.

My own. 

The witty part.

In several languages depending upon our destination.

Listen to me.

Hear the reaction.

I had the passengers'attention.

Hello there! Are you with me ?

My Other Half...

So it happened that I had flown up to Boston. With the help of faithful friends with whom I had kept a warm communication prior to my departure for training and Kansas City, kind friends who were still struggling in their studies at Harvard, I had found a respite. Once more, I had been offered the breathing space I needed, thus postponing the making of an important decision.

As I had clearly exposed my present living situation, stressing upon this hopeless dilemma but, at the same time, offering a clear, logical and practical solution, it hadn’t been difficult to observe that my point had been made. I had argued strongly in my favour.

Hugs and smiles and excited responses sealed our agreement.

I had been accepted as a new lodger, even better a French female roommate at that.

 You see, my monthly runs were still too packed with a three-day round- trip schedule, five times a month, with three days off in between, to even contemplate the prospects of a totally independent life.

So for the moment, this would have to do.

However it had greater advantages than in New York.  Commuting to Boston on TWA was virtually so cheap to almost nothing that it had been a smart move, I thought, while accruing seniority which would allow me choose more attractive time table.

I had been given my own room, my little private corner, in a spacious four bedroom apartment, sharing with three male students.

There were rules of course and equal for all. However I had absolutely no obligations as far as housekeeping was concerned. And each had own shelf in the refrigerator, and responsible for own keep.

We were all deeply busy with either studies or job to think about anything else.

Social life was meeting friends at a coffee shop, a café, or around the vast campus of Harvard if time permitted it. And there were many places to choose from.

If the boys wanted a party, they could always arrange one while I was away. They probably did too but I never heard of them.

I had been flying some eight months now and the nagging feeling of wanting more of “something” was impatiently pulling at me. This urge or lust or ambition to be in charge was becoming powerfully dominant.

Applying for the Purser position was therefore the natural consequence. The easiest at that as well. To qualify, one needed two foreign languages in addition to English.

I already could speak French fluently. When I presented myself for the test in Spanish, and the instructor asked how I was in that language, I retorted directly and rapidly in the tongue of Cervantes without the slightest hesitation. He nodded his approval, admitting that he himself didn’t understand a word I had said but understood it was Spanish.

That was the strangest test I have ever taken though…

Reciting by heart Frederico Garcia Lorca‘s “ Antonio Torres Heredia “ in a fluent Spanish but miming the text with the appropriate interjections or stops as if I was demonstrating a totally different situation – by the way, my best performance ever !

I had joined the first class of TWA female pursers, with the lowest seniority in the flying club and of age the youngest of my group.

Boarding my first flight as a purser, not long after the completion of probation as a hostess, I had faced an experienced cabin crew with twenty years as hostesses.

My heart had pounded its invisible tune of excitement.

I was the Boss.

Second after the Captain!

Although there had been grumbling comments voiced by some macho cockpit crews at the very beginning, I had quickly mastered those to make them disappear. Realizing that, as a woman, in order to gain respect and achieve recognition, I had to work the double of what my male colleagues did.

On my uniform jacket, shining brightly, both wings had been one.

My Other Half had been born.

From there on, I knew I would reach new heights as leader of the bird flock…at the service of flight crews and for an exceptional travel experience to our passengers.

So stay tuned as the making of a world filled with delightful adventures is about to begin.

Get your wingy gear ready to fly with me.

Forget about your " carry-on " hand luggage as there is no room for it on my 707 Boeing aircraft...

                                                

                                                                     *  *  *  *

                                               

" A traveller without observation is a bird without wings.”

                                                          Moslih Eddin Saadi

My Bird's Nest ...

  

Next morning, as a new day had broken through the last images of darkness, stretching voluptuously in the white sheet, I had found myself so refreshed and alive.

Dawn had brought to me a sharp sense of purpose, given me its urgency as I had wakened up into a clearer reality.

The second chapter in the book of my American life was about to be written.

I had qualified from the demands of the job as the probation period had ended. Simultaneously I had been granted the stamp of approval from my French family. The power behind entertaining my own destiny felt like it had become my exclusive right.

Thus my heart had found tranquillity.

I had considered these moments of solitude in the apartment as pure luxury, whenever they were, during the whirlwinds of my first months living in Manhattan.

With precise movements, restoring order to the sofa-bed and finding the privacy of a long and warm bath as the most wonderful spot of heaven on earth, I had followed the train of my thoughts with a body freshly cleaned and delicately perfumed.

The morning rituals had cleared the leftovers of nocturnal clouds.

Propped up with self-confidence, I had realized that the contours of the coming months had materialized themselves through my accrued seniority.  As soon as I had reached that point, I knew I would be able to bid for a run.

Good bye to the long and frustrating hours of waiting and looking at the black telephone to ring!

Good bye to the agonies of insecurity, not knowing from day to day where I would be commanded to spread my wings!

I had now become the proud owner of the “little brown “book, the most important one at that in the even bigger book of my life in America.

My bible and faithful servant which was TWA’s own one hundred pages and into which all policies were clearly written, paragraphed, witnessed, signed under the following:

“ …Agreements  between Trans World Airlines, Inc. and the Flight Attendants in the service of Trans World Airlines , Inc. as represented by The Air Line Stewards And Stewardesses Association, and Transport Workers Union of America, AFL-CIO… “

I had deeply engrossed myself into its reading, to understand the language terminology based upon the American written law.

This was serious business.

Leafing through it, there were naturally some chapters that were more interesting than others as this one:

“5. Awarding of Run Selections:

(a)        Run selections shall be awarded in accordance with seniority and posted. Every effort shall be made to post the run selection awards within 48 hours after the time and date of the closing of bid preferences…”

With this information at hand, I had counted the days until the next month’s deadline which would allow me to place a bid. Those were the days when internet or mobile phones hadn’t made their dramatic entrance yet. Let alone a computer. Everything written by hand in huge logs and for me, it meant to move and travel to JFK airport.

There at the TWA operations offices in hangar 12, at the scheduling offices, was the strategic place to learn how to write a bid, to select and finally attest the international run I would be awarded.

Fully aware I needed more time as to be rewarded with my first choice, nonetheless I could envision the month ahead and depending upon its outcome, able to weigh between the several options on where to find my own lodgings – for later!

Oh…The joys of anticipation before the final moments when I could build my very own bird’s nest. At long last, my personal landing platform into which to find the peace, to brush the exhaustion out of my feathers!

Knowing where or when I would fly next month had given me the incentive I had been looking for and, with adrenaline kicking, I had followed the energy inhabiting me.

I was ready to make the next move, as soon as my next month’s selections had been confirmed.

A matter of time now…

I am waiting for the posting of run selection awards ...

Deep attention is required...

Patience...

"I'm youth, I'm joy, I'm a little bird that has broken out of the egg."

                                                                      - Sir James M. Barrie -

A Traveller's Appraisal...

 

Upon entering the Princes Square Apartments in Bayswater in London (UK), I noticed the scaffolds on its front facade and I began to worry.

After having shared my anxiety upon check-in, the lovely lady at the reception desk understood quickly that noise made by handymen hammering on concrete was not a friend of mine.

She listened to me while I calmly told her that I was totally unaware of this kind of work done at the front of the building. My hotel reservations were made on line and there was no mention about these ongoing works.

Without a word, she cleared my anxieties on the spot and upgraded my reservation without additional fee to a one-bedroom apartment at the back side of the hotel.

The efficient way she handled the situation, with poise and professionalism, impressed me. She even took the time to accompany me to the apartment, pulling my suitcase and holding the elevator door for me.

 I must admit that, during my regular trips to London, it’s been a long time since I have been treated in such an exclusive way at a any hotel and I felt the need to express my appraisal in writing.

This young woman whose name is Diana if I recall correctly, welcomes many guests in her line of work. It is therefore important to, not only observe but also, pass the word on to her employers that such a gem in their team will win them a crowd of returning guests.

The apartment was at the back of the hotel overlooking a small patch of sunny heaven, with green grass and some other botanic life.

Early next morning, I was greeted by the nearby Church bells and the singing of birds…

What an exceptional way to wake up, I thought happily, and an even greater experience as I reminded myself that I was in the deepest of London’s heart!

Feeling resourced after a peaceful night sleeping dreamlessly, I was getting ready for a morning bath.

Unfortunately a new challenge had been brought to my attention.

I realised that the “plug” in the tub wasn’t tight enough. The water was disappearing as fast as the tub was being filled and that disturbed me, knowing how costly water is.

I took a shower instead and finished my morning “beautification”, ready to go out and shop for refreshments at the nearby Marks & Spencer, but making a mental note about of the tub.

On my way out, past the reception desk, I thought I had to signal this matter of the tub. And I realized I would report another negative detail to Diana.

However my young lady had been replaced by a smiling young man, perfect in his business suit and attentive in his manner.

In few words , I expressed my concerns about the water and the tub and the defective plug, stressing upon the fact that, as I am a protector of our mother earth,  I know water is expensive and that I don’t  like when water is being abusively wasted in such a disrespectful fashion.

Something should be done, I politely added.

When my problem had been properly and dutifully exposed for reception manager Mr. Sam Karimi who hadn’t interrupted me once, I could see that my approach around my water concern had been successfully delivered.

With quiet deference, Sam reassured me that this would be fixed as soon as possible, and in the most beneficial way for me.

Although not a plumber myself but having watched enough handymen in my life, I knew this impediment couldn’t be fixed “in a jiffy “, of which both Sam and myself agreed. The plumber would need more than one jiffy to fix this.

Upon which Sam who was on duty at the reception desk for the day, wished me the best of days letting me know that he would have this repaired while I enjoyed London.

This was the second time I had turned to the hotel staff to present a problem and I felt it wouldn’t be long before I would be judged and fall in the category of the “typical grumbler”. However I have dealt with humans for so long, no matter in what capacity or line of work that I have learned to recognize, through the spoken word, the universal language of the body!

So through our two ways of communication, I could hear and observe I had been taken seriously and cared for with the utmost respect, and by both representatives of the Princes Square Apartments, Diana the day before and now Sam!

It is then given to me to write a few words about the positive impression they both made on me.

As a result, my appraisal which commends the quality of their performance at work , how they handle and take care of the guests, should make their gracious employers quite proud to have in their service team such young people representing them!

Without forgetting those who are behind the scene: housekeepers returning smiles, office managers friendly nod…those wonderful people who are indirectly responsible to maintain their guest’s wellbeing!

Simple acts of kindness along with the willingness to listen and treat a hotel guest as he or she was unique and respectful of their claims or queries represent the highest standards of any hospitality establishment.

Thank You For Making My Stay An Unforgettable Moment In Life !

                                                                                                         

                

“Treat everyone you meet as though they are the most important person you'll meet today.”

                                                       (  Roger Dawson )

A New Dawn...

 

When does the child pass the baby pacifier of its first years onto the challenging years of adolescence which , in turn,  hands the bridles of its life over to the mature adult without knowing how, without training , if only through words of mouth and the wise parental guidance ?

And through all these stages from the very first breath of life?

Although I had cashed my first real pay check, I must confess that within me, the impulsive pangs of a singing and carefree youth still tickled me.

Celebrating my farewells to childhood or teens might have been easy because of the excitement I felt to grasp life with a serious mind. I was thus overpowering the left-over of innocence which, of course, made me stronger, when in truth, words such as responsibility, obligation or commitment hadn’t appeared in my vocabulary yet. They were even frightening me a bit.

Only the calm poise that I had felt emerging slowly in my heart made me realize that I had indeed changed in between my two good-byes to France.

After the triumphs of my surprise visit at my parents house in France, which had brought me right back to the homely comforts of the child , I had left, once again but this time , I would cherish the memories of seeing my parents’ happy faces. They had admired my success.

Their pride weighed more in my favour now.

Forgiveness had replaced the agonies of a long silence I had imposed upon them.

I had turned my head and heart once more, pointing west towards my life in the USA.

It was exactly what I had done. I had declared myself totally independent, cutting the invisible umbilical cord now and forever, the bonds from my birth country and its own future.

I had become a proud and respected member of the great TWA flying family.

Americans had accepted me with open arms, I loved them and the land, the varieties of everything, especially the way I was treated. Not as a foreigner who speaks English with a pronounced French accent, but as a compatriot of all passionate Latin souls or everything else which came from the Old continent!

Upon landing in JFK-I in New-York, if anyone had asked me then, I would have smiled triumphantly and declared myself totally in charge of my own destiny.

Shortly after I had entered the apartment, closing its door from the hustle and bustle of Manhattan, so relieved to find it empty.

This lovely safe haven of inner peace would be the perfect companion for my thoughts.

Being able to, or having a safe place to drop my shoulders completely, and then enjoy the silence and the absence of trivial conversation through the quietness of the rooms had been a balsam for my soul.

I needed to think in total solitude.

Now that I had a fantastic and secure job, how to settle my private life as well?

This studio occupied by five airline hostesses whose relationship to one another had been the kind of “off-and-on”, the throwing of light hellos and the “have-a-good-flight “in a hurry, either coming or going, when the only greetings were the click noises of suitcases or the clacking of high heels on the wooden floor -all this had been our first living place and situation right after graduation but we all knew this was not a permanent one.

With a head boiling with ideas and at the same time a body so terribly exhausted, the emotional journey to France had drained the last ounces of energy in me.

When sleep fell upon me, one last thought:

I had decided time had come to inform my lovely and invisible roommates that I was ready to fly on separate wings!

A new dawn was about to begin…

“Let every dawn of morning be to you as the beginning of life,

and every setting sun be to you as its close.”

- John Ruskin -

Carry - On ...

When I was created and delivered to my final destination, it didn’t take too long to wait until I was offered as a personal gift from TWA to an Airline Hostess upon graduation day.

I was so thrilled to enter the life of one as an international escort and my joy had no limits when I was assigned to my French mistress. I would always be ready to move upon her instructions.

I was born in 1910 in Denver, Colorado USA and my creator was Jesse Shwayder. I was named after Samson who was the Biblical strongman and later, my entire family was called Samsonite…

My mistress was ever so tender and proud to have received me although she knew I had many siblings which looked just like me… beige coloured, thin and with own key but it was the personal luggage tag which distanced me from the others as it clearly stated I belonged to one special person.

I had to be carried by the top handle whilst my grandchildren today have wheels which increase, of course, the pressure upon their bottom through asphalt, rain or snow.

When I entered my mistress’s life and along the million and half miles of duty, I became her faithful companion around the world.

I was her first, the strongest and I served my mistress well during the longest time of her flying assignments, until I retired due to wear and tear.

But I was carried and taken good care of during all moments of active duty and I know for sure that I would be regarded as a sentimental value, which is what humans feel.

Never did I join the rest of the awesome travelling crowd in the aircraft’s belly - although the sheer pleasure of jabbing my sharp corners at a Louis Vuitton trunk would have been an extraordinary feat for me - I felt privileged and honoured to be placed inside the cabin, in First class, right in front of the dividing curtain, supporting the back of its last row’s seat.

I remember the care I was given. Although the tossing and bumping, the hardships of intense travelling were very much a test of endurance, it was all worth it. 

Upon each return from a journey in the air, from a night in multiple hotel rooms to the countless examinations by Official uniformed custom officers, men or women of the world, and finally arrive home to rest, along with some of my sisters, in the tiny studio flat in Manhattan, I experienced a hectic and passionate life which reflected very much the personality of the emotional human pretty face of my mistress.

During this short moment of respite, only three days for my lady to rest and resource in between flights, have her uniform dry-cleaned and the silk lingerie hand-washed, I was never forgotten.

First emptying the personal contents I had protected with great responsibility, I was for each time cleaned, inside out, towards the final check just to make sure I would be ready to be locked to follow my mistress for new adventures in the skies, carrying everything she needed.

Sometimes I felt her mind to be elsewhere and there was nothing I could do about it, except watch her disarray or frustration when she became angry for her forgetfulness during a stop somewhere in the Middle-East or anywhere else in the world…

You could say I was the perfect silent partner and from the very beginning, I realized I was the one which meant everything in the life of my busy lady at the time. She didn’t own anything else therefore each item placed inside my bosom would always have a special significance.

I ended my services but would forever exist in a special collection my mistress called memory.

“Our battered suitcases were piled on the sidewalk again; we had longer ways to go.                                                    But no matter, the road is life."

                                                        - Jack Kerouac -