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
