Flying with the Rich and Famous: True Stories from the Flight Attendant who flew with them (5 page)

When we finally landed, I was toast. I needed to get to the bar to “debrief.” I’d barely said “boo” to the pilots during the flight. I think I threw them a sandwich along the way, but that’s not how I normally treat my pilots. With all of our lives dependent upon them, they’re gods and I treat them as such, usually spoiling them tremendously. As we sat in the bar the whole ugly story came pouring out as the pilots listened sympathetically.

Most pilots can tell quickly if the passengers are going to be egocentric, ill-mannered “problem children.” They were not surprised to hear my harrowing tale of the “alpha-hotels” (
airplane talk for a-holes). But we all agreed that Tom was in the wrong company because he was cool, by far the nicest guy on the flight. At least
, his
mother would have been proud of him.

After sipping expensive martinis—thank goodness for expense reports—I went to my room for some well-needed R&R. We had a short flight the following morning. Mr. Tighty Whitey reminded me there was to be a full-meal service. Anxious about the next day, and on East Coast time, it was difficult to fall asleep at a decent hour.

After little sleep, I put two packets of coffee in the little coffee maker and reminded myself it didn’t matter how these men treated me. Their rudeness is about them, not me. I normally love driving to the airport, seeing the beautiful plane, brewing gourmet coffee, heating cinnamon rolls, playing inviting music, and making it homey. Usually, I can’t wait to greet my passengers with a level of enthusiasm that might sometimes be over the top. But not this time.

As soon as they boarded the plane, the flight quickly became a repeat of the previous day, only in fast-forward. We only had an hour of flight time, so I really had to hustle. After the pilots “dinged” me (fasten seatbelt sign), I hastily raised tables and delivered beverages. They all ate something different again but I was undaunted. Eight meals prepared in a galley the size of a hall closet—no problem. With a full passenger load, halfway through the meal service, the first few need beverage refills and it snowballs from there. When I set the last entrée plate down, it was clear that Bottom-of-the-totem-pole-Dude had to eat in a hurry. He had been pretty easygoing the day before, probably as I figured it, because he knew his rank. But now he decided he was at least important enough to bitch about being served last and while on descent.
Sorry, B-O-T-P-D, someone has to be last
.

Now it was time to face the inherent problem of a full-meal service on a short flight: dishes and glassware all over the cabin. The galley had stuff everywhere. It looked more like a
greasy spoon rather than a luxury airplane, and we were landing. I frantically picked up dishes, glasses, crumpled linens, and papers, in addition to trying to secure briefcases. All of a sudden, and totally unexpectedly, Tom Cruise jumped up to help.

At first I was appalled: passengers were not supposed to help, certainly not Tom Cruise. Apparently he didn’t care about his status. He bussed dishes from the cabin into the galley, but he did it with a child-like demeanor, laughing and joking the whole time. He was amusing and entertaining everyone, especially me, as I gratefully took the dishes from him and recklessly shoved them into dirty dish bins.

He was cute and funny and a huge help. I forgot who he was for a moment because he was so much fun. It was like doing dishes with your brother on Thanksgiving, except this brother was a superstar.

As I’m flinging things here and there, it dawned on me: Tom Cruise was my busboy! I began to giggle under my breath.
That egged him on. He had changed the whole atmosphere of the airplane from tension to absurdity, at least for me. He started teasing me about how the crap all over the galley was stowed. “Where was it to start with?” “How does it all fit?” “Where’s the dishwasher?” He was so adorable and silly that for the first time on this charter I noticed I was enjoying myself.

As landing was imminent, I insisted he sit down. It really wouldn’t look good if he went flying through the cabin in the event of a hard landing. I sat down just as the wheels hit the tarmac.

I sat there sweating, thankful that Tom was sitting forward and not in my line of vision. I was embarrassed about his helping me, even though he did seem to enjoy it. But what most captivated my thoughts was how the others could go through life acting like spoiled children. It was at that moment I realized I had the unique ability to go where the paparazzi couldn’t and to see what a person is made of when no one is watching but the
flight attendant.

After distributing all the coats and carry-ons, something odd happened. Mr. Wrinkle-free Cashmere Coat thanked me. After I picked myself up off the floor, I had to laugh. The day before, they deplaned without as much as a glance back. Then it happened again. Bottom-of-the-totem-pole Dude thanked me. I thought,
Sure, smarty-pants, you just don’t want to be left standing there without jumping on the thank you bandwagon
. But, I have to admit, some of them became a little nicer. Maybe seeing Tom bussing tables warmed them up. Then Mr. Tighty Whitey actually complimented me. Holy cow, where’s the defibrillator?

After spending hours cleaning up a totally disheveled airplane with the help of my pilots and a shocked ground crew, I left the airport knowing Tom Cruise was really the star of this whole show. And if he and I were pals, I didn’t have to give a hoot what the producers thought anymore. I was once again
excited to be the flight attendant extraordinaire.

When they arrived for the next flight, they showed more respect, except for Mr. King Bowtie who was still an alpha-hotel. Some even asked about my time off, but Mr. King Bow Tie never looked me in the eye or said thank you. This was the first time I saw an example of real “Hollywood” behavior that most people only hear or read about.

It wasn’t the last time I had flights like this. I just do my best with the limitations that exist while soaring through the sky in a metal tube.

JACK NICHOLSON

One of my all-time favorite passengers was Jack Nicholson. He’s always been a diehard Los Angeles Lakers fan and would often fly back and forth from Los Angeles to New York on Regent Air to follow them. His courtside antics were always newsworthy. People love Jack. Everybody was enthralled
with him, everyone wanted to meet him, sit next to him, chat with him, anything with him. Jack has been a popular movie star for decades, but at this time his ride to stardom was just beginning, having won one of his Oscars for his crazy portrayal of McMurphy in
One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest
.

He became a familiar and friendly face, and one I always looked forward to seeing. He was an extraordinary guy with a grin that could light up a room. What I remember most is his signature Ray-Ban sunglasses. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him without them. When I first met him, he had chartreuse-colored Ray-Bans that matched his chartreuse-colored socks. I don’t know if he matched his Ray-Bans to the socks or his socks to the Ray-Bans. Either way, it was cool and only something that Jack Nicholson could pull off.

His voice is sexy and soothing, and, well, comforting—like a long-proven friend or a valued mentor. Whatever he says seems monumental because Jack Nicholson has that voice. Every
flight attendant wanted to wait on him or hang with him or just be around him. I will never forget his words or his wisdom—or his flirtation.

Jack radiates immense self-confidence, a laid-back enthusiasm and sexual energy. Adding to his singular good looks and amazing attitude was his smile. He was always smiling and in a sexy way that isn’t designed—it’s just the way he is. Not to mention you can tell he does not give a crap what anyone thinks. He’s the most authentic person I’ve ever flown with. Let me repeat: he is the most authentic person I’ve ever flown with.

Everyone told me Jack was a big flirt so you’d think I’d have been prepared. But when he flirted with me, everything people said went out the window. It became personal. Even though Jack often traveled with his nephew, when he flirted with me, it was like we were the only two people on that airplane.

I remember one particular flight, early on, that especially had my heart racing. When Jack first boarded the aircraft, he
handed me his coat. When I took it to hang in the closet, he thanked me in his sexiest voice while locking in on my eyes for what felt like an eternity. It was a hypnotic stare and one I hated to break. When I brought him his first drink, he touched my arm, and it electrified my entire body. (Or maybe it was the static from the airplane, but I doubt it.) When I went to remove that drink for takeoff, he again thanked me in that sexy voice while his eyes pierced mine—and then he smiled a tiny little grin where his lips curl up just a tad on the sides of his mouth. I felt like he wanted me to be his lunch that day.

After takeoff, I brought him a fresh cocktail, and he began his little quips. He’d say the funniest one-liners with just a hint of sexual innuendo. Then at some point during this flight he got up to go to the bathroom, and he had to pass me on his way to the rear of the aircraft. The aisle was narrow there so he brushed up against me, and we locked eyes again. He stood there for just a smidgeon longer than needed. He said something, but I
can’t remember what because I was too fixated on not fainting. The repartee playing in my head was annoying. I was almost considering taking this bait—but, was it bait or was it just Jack?

Let’s just say that Jack Nicholson got some seriously good service on that flight. I offered him anything and everything on the plane, except me. I wonder how obvious it was that I “over-serviced” him. I hope he got a kick out of it. I know I did.

ELIZABETH TAYLOR

The late Elizabeth Taylor was no stranger to private jets. The beautiful actress had a lifelong career and was queen of the tabloids. Dame Elizabeth Taylor, Cleopatra herself, famously married eight times—really, eight times! Starting as a child star and rising to the epitome of success, she was the ultimate movie star. I would venture to guess that she was the most recognizable face in the world. Plus, she was a philanthropist. What she did for HIV/AIDS was unprecedented.

The first time I laid eyes on her I was stunned at how truly beautiful she was in person. I had seen her on the big screen and television, but film did not do her natural beauty justice. She was stunning. It was like seeing her in high-definition. She was absolutely gorgeous. And then I noticed how petite she was. I had envisioned her larger than she was, maybe because of her star status or maybe because of her larger bust.

Elegantly, she climbed the stairs to board our beautiful 727 in a full-length, white fur that was the most spectacular coat I’d ever seen. I’ve been trained never to show any sign of being star struck and usually had no problem mastering it, but her coat made me gasp. As she strolled through the airplane she held her head high. She seemed to be very comfortable with her stardom, as opposed to those celebrities who would come aboard wearing dark sunglasses and enormous hats, as though that would conceal their identities. She acknowledged any staring eyes with a polite nod or small eyelash wink as if to say, “Yes, it’s me—I am
Elizabeth Taylor,” and “Yes, you may gaze upon me.” I felt that it was okay with her if we stared, not because she was vain but because one couldn’t help it. Curiosity is a natural instinct and she was okay with it. My initial impression was that she wasn’t a diva, unlike some celebrities I had come across.

I was very intent on getting a closer look at Elizabeth Taylor’s violet eyes, but Ms. Taylor was sitting in another flight attendant’s section, my dear friend Felicia. She was as excited as the rest of us to host Elizabeth Taylor on our flight but more exuberant because she was in her section of the aircraft. Felicia took Ms. Taylor’s magnificent coat to hang in our aft closet. When she got to the rear of the aircraft, a few of us were waiting to see the coat and hear what Felicia had to say about her.

Felicia told us that she asked Ms. Taylor how she was feeling that morning, and she had replied that she was in fact feeling marvelous, to which Felicia responded, “Well, if you feel half as good as you look, you must feel fabulous!” To which Ms.
Taylor responded, “That is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me!” Then Felicia blurted out to us that Ms. Taylor was wearing
the
diamond: the famous Richard Burton diamond. The 69-carat pear-shaped diamond he had given her during their first marriage. (She married him twice.) Each of us instantly conjured up ways to get a closer view of her hand.

On examining the coat, we noticed the inside was silk and had “Elizabeth Taylor” embroidered on it. One of the flight attendants was a rather flamboyant gay man named Stephen, who was just a gas. He had a way of making sure we kept our status, in his perspective, equal to the celebrities. “We are just as good as them,” he would constantly remind us, and usually in some hilarious fashion.

Stephen decided he should try on the amazing garment and see if he could
feel
what it was like to be Elizabeth Taylor. When he did, the sleeves came only just past his elbows and the hemline only to his knees. The sight of him turning that coat into
a gag was funny enough, but then he began dancing in the back of the airplane pretending to be the extraordinary star. He had his head cocked to one side, his arms waving and he pranced around as though he were in a sketch on
Saturday Night Live
. It was such a comical sight that Felicia and I laughed so hard we had tears rolling down our faces. It took us forever to regain our composure and touch up our makeup so we could return to the cabin and tend to our passengers.

As the flight proceeded it became apparent that Ms. Taylor was taken by Felicia’s compliment. When Felicia returned, she politely admired the diamond, which was when Felicia learned that is was not the famous Taylor-Burton diamond but the 33-carat Krupp diamond that Richard Burton had also bought her. (She had sold the Taylor-Burton diamond to fund a hospital.) Ms. Taylor promptly removed the exquisite jewel from her finger and told Felicia to try it on. When she saw Felicia’s reaction, she insisted she wear it—for the entire flight!
As if Felicia didn’t have enough bragging rights because Liz Taylor was in her section, she now had this massive diamond to flaunt in front of all of us and the other passengers for the next five hours!