Heather McKeown
Ye Olde Berkshire Libraree
Basically, every flight attendant goes through the same sort of life experiences while up there with the customers. We hear everything, see more and sometimes are targets for the angst, frustration, fear or bullying of those who sit in our comphy leather seats. We were hired because we are capable of rolling with the punches, well, the verbal sort, anyway. Wisdom and our positive reactions are honed from flight to flight. Creative ways to respond to some untoward comments or the usual complaints of the traveling public are in the back pockets of the average flight attendant. These tools are easily whipped out and employed to calm, encourage, empathize, sympathize or deflect misdirected anger of those who see a uniform and plan their attack. Right now, I'm sitting in an A-320, commuting to JFK from BTV. I've watched every crewmember aboard do something amazing since boarding began. Sandra Bailey tactfully and with such grace, made sure a Vietnam Veteran with prosthetic legs was seated comfortably. Jamie Calcutt saw a woman crying and delivered some water and kindness. Sarah Zarzuela noticed that I was bleeding from a cut on my arm and whipped into action with alcohol pads, healing antibiotic cream and a bunch of bandaids. All these positive considerations were bestowed before take off! It's my opinion that these women would be just as marvelous and sweet, full of initiative and kindness OFF a plane as when they're on it. I know I'm not...the situation I experienced last week proved that this stewardess has crossed the line of demarcation between 'Jeckle and Hyde'. You all knew I had it in me, but how would you have handled this scenario?
I try to live up to the example of my brothers and sisters in blue, both on the plane and at home. I've learned so much from my wonderful crashpad friends, too. To say they counsel wisely would be to grossly understate their positive influence on me, my life and my personality. On planes, I always have one or two other peers to inspire or help me with everything from lifting bags, to getting me through service before landing. Yes, I'm slow with service. Everyone gets 'something' before deplaning, but I enjoy the experience more than the passengers do!
I digress. Now, why am I writing this? This story poses a question to all who serve and smile 'even when out of Bloody Mary mix”.* Are you as nice, poised, patient, kind and forgiving out of uniform as you are IN it? The challenges are usually the same at home as they are in the air, right? On the ground we have bills to pay, family and friends to see, groceries to buy, issues and problems and more issues on a personal level. I do, anyway. I try to think about what I'd do on duty when faced with people who know me as a plain old town librarian, granny and former herdsman on a dairy farm. Until last week, consistency was easy. I roll with the punches at home in pretty much the same way as I do at 35,000 feet. Yet, even an old flight attendant can reach the end of her tether if an insult is so offensive that all poise, charm, sense of humor and temper are lost. Have you ever wondered what YOUR breaking point might be? At which mark on Life's graduated scale of moods would you find yourself tipping, uncontrollably, onto the side that leads to 'total meltdown', 'this is too much', 'get outta' my way, 'cuz I'm coming atcha' using the worst naughty words in the Universe!' Thank heavens my vulnerable state and subsequent incident happened when I was out of uniform, out of position, out of work for a few days. I was also out in my back yard. I now know where my patience end and a killer emerges. In short, I know when I go from mature and maternal to kid-in-a-sandbox, my-dad-can-beat-up-your-dad to: NEVER MIND-I'LL KILL YA' MY OWN SELF!!!!
Well, I arrived in my little Vermont village at about 9:15 on a cool autumn night. Deciding that, before the snow falls, the varmint living under my house needed catching, I baited and set the Have-a-Heart trap right beside the beast's entryway to its cave. The overriding purpose of this sort of trap is to catch some destructive or toxic trespasser on your property, place the caged beast into your car and drive the mucker over the mountain and release it alive and healthy, with your blessing to invade another basement in the next county. This was not the first time I'd set the trap, but, in the past, the bait's eaten and the empty cage is halfway across the garden by the next dawn. On the last setting of said humane trap, I put a huge rock on top, and bigger ones on every side. “A-HA! It'd take a black bear to move this trap!” I thought. I was totally happy with my efforts and, when I was falling asleep, there was a smile on my face because there would definitely be a trespassing furry thing confined and ready to be trucked to the other side of the mountain by morning.
The following morning, I sallied out in my best flannel jammies and heavy rubber knee high boots. There it was. Black with a white strip and huge. To move the animal, I would have to throw a cover over the cage. Skunks won't spray if covered, for some reason. However, the rocks were so heavy that I approached with my trusty rake to move them. Did you know that a six-foot handle isn't long enough to escape the fecund weapon of a skunk? Well, take it from me, when you hear, “I wouldn't touch that with a ten-foot pole!” you should probably never shoot for anything less than a 25 or 30-foot tool when dealing with a trapped skunk. Maybe longer? Don't do as I do or, in this case, what I say, because chances are I'm wrong with any estimate of safe distance.
My neighbor, Jamie Doe, once told me that a skunk can't spray if his tail's not up. I wasn't exactly sure where its tail was, in the dusk of early morning, but I hadn't had my coffee so I wasn't focused anyway. I also believed that any spray would squirt out like water out of a hose. Wrong again. Very, very wrong. Instead, I saw nothing. Felt nothing. Yet, in the poetic way of a Robert Frost moment, I fell under an invisible aura of the best any skunk could offer. I suppose it could be painted in a holy way, like someone suddenly getting the spirit of acceptance into the kingdom of the born-again world of religiousity. The heralding angels in attendance, looking down with unconditional love and the peaceful countenances of Mother Teresa, would fill out the picture. However, I didn't feel the love. Nope. I grabbed that cage and tossed it into the pond. As it disappeared into the depths, I felt no guilt. P.E.T.A. would have me stoned in a public square even if I had no plans to make a fur stole out of the remains. I apologize to no man. Sorry animal activists.
Back to my original question: Am I as nice out of uniform when a blast of disagreeable abuse comes my way? In a word, NO. I lost every bit of my original kindness and patience last week in one nano-second of reactive KARMA. So...I guess the travelers who board my flights from now on are dealing with a new being. New to me, anyway. I had no idea I could go from a Have-a-Heart user to a sociopath with the ability to end a life. I guess everyone has a breaking point, eh?
*the famous line from VIEW FROM THE TOP...everyone's favorite flight attendant flick
Author of: ABOVE AND BEYOND Inspiring Adventures into the Blue (Flight Attendant stories)
Thanks Heather .... I truly appreciate your stories and perhaps a preview of your next book
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