Fasten Your Seatbelts: A Flight Attendant's Adventures 36,000 Feet and Below (7 page)

I told him I was avoiding him because I knew he had a girlfriend. Nothing more was said. I proceeded to my room only to find him coming in my direction. He stopped when I stopped.
Oh no, not adjoining rooms
. This very seldom happens. I closed my door and looked at his connecting door slowly putting my hand on it. I felt as if he might have done the same.

I awakened the next morning to answer the ringing phone, hoping that it wasn’t the scheduling department reassigning us again.

“Hello?” It was Kirk.

“Can we have breakfast together? I need to talk to you.”

Our pick-up was at 2:15 p.m., so we had plenty of time.

While sipping our coffee, he said he had been thinking about me the whole night. Not wanting to make any mistakes, he didn’t know what to do. We didn’t really come to any conclusions, but trying to do what’s right, we reluctantly returned to our rooms. Heart still pounding, I started packing my suitcase for our trip home to Raleigh.

While putting on my makeup, I noticed a peculiar smell in the air — it smelled like smoke. Soon, fire engines roared to the front of our hotel. I ran to the window in disbelief. I looked for possible escape routes and noticed I was way too high to jump. I ran to the door and felt it with the back of my hand to make sure it wasn’t hot.

It’s amazing how our training always kicks in when emergencies arise. It wasn’t hot, so I opened the door. Smoke was everywhere! The alarm was not sounding, and no one was in the hall. My first thought was everyone had forgotten about me. I knocked on Kirk’s door, but he didn’t answer. It was one o’clock in the afternoon, so it wasn’t unusual not to have
guests at that time.
But where was my crew
? I heard a click down the hall and the flight engineers’ door opened.

“What’s going on?” He yelled. “I smell smoke.”

“No *!#*!,” I shouted back, “We’re on fire!”

We ran to the elevator, but it wasn’t operating. While sprinting in the other direction toward the stairs, the captain stuck his head out of his room.

“Hey, I just talked to the front desk. There is a fire on the twelfth floor.” (We were on the tenth.) “Don’t worry about getting your things; I will meet you downstairs.”

The captain was married to one of the flight attendants, so I knew she would be okay. The other flight attendant poked her soaking wet head out the door. She had only her bra and underwear on, so she quickly threw on some clothes and down the stairs we went.

About 45 minutes had gone by. The firefighters said the fire was under control, but the elevators would remain closed. We knew what that meant: more stairs! I was not looking forward to walking up ten flights, getting dressed, and then carrying my bags back down.

When I finally reached my room, I knocked on Kirk’s door again. He had been in the shower when I knocked the first time. I mistakenly thought he must have gone downstairs when he didn’t answer. He said he smelled the smoke, but figured if
the alarms weren’t going off it must not have been anything to worry about. I never did find out why the alarms weren’t sounding.

I carried my bags down the winding staircase which still had a hint of smoke filtering in. Round and round I went, having to stop now and then because the bags felt more like bricks than luggage. Finally, I reached the bottom of the ten floors. The driver took my bags from me as the crew gathered in the van. Surprisingly enough, we made it on time for our 2:15 pickup.

I was day dreaming out the window and noticed the sky was looking scary. A line of dark clouds hovered above the ground. Just at that moment, we heard the civil defense siren blaring. The alarmed van driver turned on the radio. A tornado warning was in effect for this county. We couldn’t believe it! The van driver raced to the airport checking out the sky making sure there weren’t any funnel clouds about to touch down in our path. When we arrived at the airport, the agents ushered us to a safe location. Thank God it never touched down.

Needless to say, the flight to Raleigh was cancelled. We sat around for a couple more hours, and then deadheaded on the next flight to Raleigh. (Deadhead means we travel just like a passenger but still get paid for it.) The agent handed us our
boarding pass. I looked at mine and then the first officer’s. How did I guess we would be sitting next to each other?

For the next couple of hours we laughed at how many things happened to us. He lived right across the lake from me in Raleigh. We mutually agreed it was best to leave things the way they were. I see him from time to time. He married his girlfriend and has two beautiful children.

ur trip looked harmless enough: Miami to San Jose, Costa Rica, and then return to Miami the next day.

The A-300 is one of our largest aircrafts, which holds up to 267 passengers. On this particular flight we were completely full. The flight attendants had a briefing with the cockpit before the plane took off. “Well, the flight plan looks smooth on the way to Costa Rica, but there might be some weather when we arrive,” the captain said. “I’ll keep you advised.” He didn’t seem too concerned.

The flight was uneventful until we approached San Jose. Costa Rica is a breathtaking place to visit. The island has gorgeous waterfalls, lush greenery and mountains — mountains everywhere, including around the airport.

The captain called the flight attendants, “There are severe storms in the area. We will be circling in a holding pattern until it lifts. I will keep you posted.” Looking at my watch, I
knew we were not going to make our scheduled arrival time of 5 p.m.

About an hour passed when the captain called again. “There is a passageway through the clouds that looks as though I can make an attempt to land.” His voice was heard over the PA, “Prepare for landing!”

If we were in the States, we could divert to the closest city in an emergency or unfavorable weather conditions, but Costa Rica has only one major airport.

I sat down on my jumpseat in the back of the airplane along with Michael, the aft galley flight attendant. We gazed at each other in disbelief as the plane fought its way through the clouds. I felt my hands perspiring as I clung to the seat.

The sound of the landing gear was an indescribable relief, but as our airplane approached the runway, the engines suddenly revved up. The force of the ascent shoved us back into our seats and upward toward those unfriendly skies.

There was dead silence in the cabin. The captain had earlier informed the crew we were running low on fuel. I said to Michael in a low voice, “Do you know how much fuel it takes to take off like that?” The captain’s voice returned on the PA. “Well, ahhh, ladies and gentlemen, ahhh, our cockpit instruments are not matching up to the runway. We’re going to go around and try it again manually.”
Oh great! We are
maneuvering around the mountains, the daylight is now gone, and we are low on fuel
.

The plane circled around, yet again. Every second felt like an eternity. We were still on our jumpseats when we heard the sound of the landing gear lowered again. I looked out the window and could see the lights below. I held my breath.
Lower, lower, lower
. Instead of feeling the landing gear touch the ground, the engines increased power. We shot up like a rocket being launched. The roar was unbelievable. Ding! Ding! It was the captain calling us. “You guys, we can’t make it the third time. Our alternate is Panama City.” The tightness in his voice was evident.

The crew gathered in the galley. We were all white as ghosts yet had to maintain our professionalism. I said, “I think we should say some prayers.” At this point I felt out of control and needed some reassurance, so I went into the cockpit. That was a huge mistake. Some things are better off not knowing.

I quietly slid on the jumpseat behind the captain and desperately wanted them to tell me everything was going to be all right. The captain was in his late fifties but looked old for his age. His eyes bulged slightly, and his overweight paunch touched the steering wheel. The first officer looked frail. He was the type of guy who doesn’t say much.
This was not good
.

The silence was deafening. I couldn’t believe this was happening. The control tower from Panama City called. The message heard was relayed in English with a strong Spanish accent. “Due to the weather conditions, we are below minimums here; you can’t land. Your alternate is Managua, Nicaragua.” My heart began to beat so hard I could feel it in my head. I noticed the captain had sweat beads forming on his forehead. He turned the airplane in the opposite direction, now heading for Managua.

“What are you doing?” I hear another voice in broken English. “You cannot land here. We are not equipped for your aircraft.” The captain is now brushing sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. “If you don’t let us land this airplane, there is going to be a bird falling out of the sky,” the captain said. Managua gave us the clearance.

At that point, I left the cockpit numb. The rest of the crew was waiting to hear some news. Unfortunately, there was no good news. The passengers realized something was terribly wrong. They sat in their seats in silence. I passed by them with a pleasant smile, but inside I was terrified. A lady stopped me. “I want to take a video of you. This is for our loved ones.” I wanted to burst in tears and hug her; instead, I just smiled and waved into her camera. I walked away with a horrid vision of my mom and dad watching me in this video of my final moments on Earth or rather in the atmosphere.

We waited to hear from the pilots for what seemed like an eternity.
Were we going to run out of fuel at any moment
?
Were we going to be a big bird falling out of the sky?
The captain announced over the PA the words we had heard two times before on this flight, “Flight attendants, prepare for landing.” The crew did the mandatory compliance check to make sure all the seatbacks were upright and all tray tables were stowed. My hands were tingling and my heart was in my throat. Michael and I returned to our jumpseats.

Every once in a while we glanced at each other in fear. Again, the landing gear lowered. I heard the familiar sound of it locking into place.
Please, please, God
, I pleaded.
Let us land safely
. Hours had now passed and exhaustion set in. My commands for opening my exit in an emergency went through my mind. The rain beat against the fuselage and the wind tore at the plane. As we struggled to land, the nose of the aircraft started to lift, but this time lowered itself onto the runway instead of rising to the sky. Thud! We made it. Everyone cheered, clapping uncontrollably.

On the tarmac we waited for a long time. Peering out the window, my heart sunk when I realized the incident was far from being over. Outside, men with machine guns were circling the airplane. When the control tower at Managua communicated the airport wasn’t equipped for large aircrafts such
as the A-300, they really meant it. They didn’t have any way of reaching our fuel tanks to refill them. The only way they could think of was to use a ladder, but they didn’t have one at the airport. A kind soul generously volunteered to drive to his nearby house to pick up his ladder.

Most people wanted to get off the airplane and check into a hotel. We couldn’t because of all the regulations associated with Customs. Moreover, the political climate in Nicaragua at the time made it unsafe for Americans to be there.

The flight attendants provided a quick water service, pretending to be calm. Afterward, I sat on my jumpseat exhausted. My body started to tremble.
Oh my Gosh, I am going into shock. My body is going into shock and I am smiling and calming passengers. This is crazy!

Hours passed, but we finally got refueled. The thought of heading back to Costa Rica didn’t appeal to me, but the thought of being in a nice comfortable bed did. “Let’s go,” the captain said, “We have plenty of fuel this time and the weather is good.” The aircraft taxied down the runway. “Flight attendants, prepare for departure.” Michael and I gave each other eye contact with one eyebrow lifted. It’s amazing how you can feel what someone else is feeling without uttering a word.

We nestled into our jumpseats for the flight back to San Jose. Thank God our ice and supplies were depleted, as we did
not have to do another service. Once again, the captain spoke humbly. “Flight attendants, prepare for landing.” The landing gear lowered and again we waited. I said a quick prayer. Thud! We made it. The applause was thunderous. If the passengers had been allowed to get up, there would have been a standing ovation. What a trip!