Confessions of a Hostie (20 page)

I always dreamed of celebrating New Year's Eve in New York, and I finally got my wish this year. Spending New Year's in Times Square with Dean and Danny and Bernadette was sensational.

Danny has easily embraced the fact that I am dating his brother, so much so that we bid for some trips together. It was actually Bernadette's idea to do so.

All my stars must have been aligned this year, as I also had a Christmas at home this year. Dean and I had lunch with my family and dinner with his, including Danny and Bernadette. Dean is going to Tanzania again and has asked that I visit him during my holidays, which start soon. We are even planning to go on safari together in the Serengeti.

I put Helen on my staff-travel benefits, and she has done three shorter trips already. I think her husband is starting to regret the decision as Helen has really taken to the life of travel and fancy five-star luxury like a duck to water. In other news, I heard a rumour that Princess Gabrielle has apparently quit flying. Mary broke up with Mike, got back together with him, broke up again, made up, broke up, patched up and finally broke up for good – that is all I've heard this week at least.

Work is still as hard and as taxing on my body as it always has been. I still struggle with the jetlag, the fatigue, the dehydration, the illnesses and the bumps and bruises from working at 35,000 feet in an aluminum tube. Would I rather be doing something else?

Not a chance in hell.

sneak preview of volume 2

“More Confessions of a Hostie: The Second Sector” by Danielle Hugh Chapter 1

a shin is the perfect device for finding a glass coffee table in the dark

I sit up with a jolt. The room is pitch-black except for the glow from the bedside clock: 2.15 a.m. Where the hell am I?

I try searching for the light switch, but then give up. I roll out of bed and make my way toward the window. It is then that my shin discovers the glass coffee table with ferocious force. I clutch my throbbing leg, screaming out things that would make a seasoned sailor blush.

If I wasn't so jetlagged, deliriously tired and hopping about like a one-legged rabbit, I would be far more excited that I am in Hong Kong.

Who am I kidding – I am still excited!

I know I ought to be putting some ice on the already darkening bruise, rather than making perceptive but useless observations about how the bruise is ironically taking the shape of Hong Kong Island. However, thoughts of shopping in a hostie's wonderland far outweigh the ones about the bruise on my shin. All I can think about is buying shoes.

Hong Kong is a single girl's shopping Mecca. Here, East meets West, and girl meets shoes. It would be nice if I could manage getting a few more hours sleep though. The flight over was a nightmare. We were nearly two hours late departing, thanks to a storm that hit the airport whilst the passengers were boarding. The sky turned black, and the winds were very strong. Even a massive aircraft like the jumbo 747, although sitting on the tarmac, rocked quite a bit. When the last passenger had boarded, all I had been able to see out the window were flashes of lightning and pouring rain.

The captain had immediately made a PA to inform passengers that due to the severe weather outside, particularly the lightning, the loading of their baggage into the cargo hold was momentarily suspended, until the lightning was gone.

I've had some dumb things said to me in my twenty years of flying, but one passenger wins the blue ribbon in that category.

‘How long will the lightning delay the aircraft?' a woman asked me.

I replied, ‘I don't know, ma'am. That is up to a higher authority to decide.'

She doesn't understand my tongue-in-cheek response. They say lightning never strikes twice in the same place, but people who ask silly questions do strike repeatedly.

With a very serious expression, she asked, ‘So, who does know then?'

No, no, no! Don't make me say it, I think to myself.

‘So your question is basically this: How long will the lightning last? I have already told you that I don't know. We already know the captain doesn't know. The ground-staff don't know, the airport doesn't know, the airline company doesn't know and I'm guessing that if Albert Einstein were still alive he wouldn't know. Only one person knows – that's God. G.O.D., the Almighty!' is what I would have loved to scream out, but how can you be sarcastic to someone who would lack the basic commonsense to understand sarcasm? Albert Einstein himself once said, ‘Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity, and I'm not sure about the universe.'

Instead I tell the woman that weather conditions are out of the airline's control and that the captain will be told by the ground staff when it is safe to continue loading bags.

In addition to the irritable passengers and the extra hours we had to work, it proved to be an eventful flight. A woman collapsed in her seat, and we spent much of the flight treating and monitoring her condition. Fortunately there was a doctor onboard (as there usually is). It was diagnosed that the woman had a severe twenty-four-hour virus. With oxygen and some onboard medication the woman's condition improved slowly, but we still needed to monitor her, which added to our already heavy workload.

Elsewhere in the cabin, an elderly woman had lost her necklace. This woman had been brought onto the aircraft in a wheelchair and she had been so feeble. If she were my mother or grandmother I would never have allowed her to travel on her own. I had helped prepare her tray during the meal service and had then helped her eat as well; I had done everything except spoon-feed her. Not long after we had cleared the tray she discovered that her necklace was missing. I prayed she hadn't left it on her tray as the chances of finding it amongst hundreds of dirty trays were almost none.

It had probably fallen between seats or under her cushion, I guessed. I helped her up from the seat, so that I could search in and around the seat. As I lowered my head to her seat the smell hit me at the exact moment as the wetness of the seat cushion oozed through my fingers.

She had urinated in the seat. Gross, gross and triple gross.

I donned gloves, removed the cushion and replaced it with the only spare seat cushion available on the plane.

I eventually found the necklace where I had suspected it would be found. I also found that it was a piece of very cheap costume jewellery and had a broken clasp, which effectively rendered it useless anyway.

Was all my discomfort and effort worth the effort? Nope.

The smell of urine lingered in my nostrils for the remainder of the flight and through the bus trip to our crew hotel. On reaching the hotel, the first thing I did was run into the bathroom and give myself a long, hot shower. Then, I had the choice of either crawling straight into bed or to go out for crew-drinks and treat myself to a couple of glasses of wine, and unwind with the crew.

I went with the more sociable option. I might be still paying the price for those few wines, with a hangover (and now a bruised shin) but thoughts of shopping have put back the spring in my step – or ‘in my hop'.

Whoever said money can't buy happiness didn't know where to go shopping. Sadly, shops aren't open in the early hours of the morning, so after watching infomercials on TV for several hours I decide to have another long shower and then hit the gym. I'd like to say that I love going to the gym, but I don't. Guilt is my motivator and boredom my vindication.

Airline crew hotels are a sea of treadmills in the early hours of the morning, with hostie after hostie pounding the conveyer belts. The girls all have the same steadfast expressions on their faces, as if to say, ‘There's only a few more hours before the shops open'. At least, that's what I am thinking when I run.

I am sure that most of the girls on the treadmills will end up going to any number of ‘markets' available at Hong Kong. My favourite place is Stanley Market. It is not just the shopping there that makes it great, but it is also the market's location. I remember the first time I ever came to Hong Kong and some of the crew took me to Stanley. The bus ride there was spectacular, and after shopping we ended dining in a superb restaurant on the waterfront. This restaurant has had a few name changes over the years, but it is still there. I have lunch there every time I go out shopping in Stanley Market, which is pretty much every time I come to Hong Kong. I am sure today will be no exception.

I never tire of doing fantastic things. My philosophy for life is quite simple really: I sleep when I can, work hard when I have to, and I have fun because I want to.

“More Confessions of a Hostie: The Second Sector” by Danielle Hugh is

available from major ebook retailers worldwide. Grab your copy now and

follow the adventures of Danielle.

about the author

I've worked for twenty years as a flight attendant, and I still enjoy meeting new people and travelling to exotic places. I'd love to hear your comments about my hostie stories. You can also send me your own hostie stories. Send me a message on my Facebook page:
www.facebook.com
/Confessionsofahostie.

copyright

First published in digital form in 2012 by Monsoon Books

This updated edition published in 2014.

ISBN (ebook): 978-981-4358-63-7

Copyright©Danielle Hugh, 2012

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

All rights reserved. You may not copy, distribute, transmit, reproduce, or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

Cover vector image©a-codes (iStockphoto)

Disclaimer

The episodes featured in this book describe the author's experiences working as an international flight crew. To protect confidentiality, however, the publisher and author assert that not everything the author writes can be taken as the truth and neither party shall be held responsible for any claims of misrepresentation. Some parts have been fictionalised, and names, airlines and locations have been changed. The author has avoided revealing any information that would put colleagues in the air at risk and, most importantly, the author has used a pseudonym and has obfuscated the character of Danielle Hugh to such a degree that the author need not worry about dismissal. The author has taken liberties, and has had some fun, with the facts regarding the personal life of Danielle Hugh to keep identities secret, but the conversations and incidents recounted are based on the truth.

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