Blog-TOWER OF BABEL

My house has been taken over by the untrainable. You have to be quick in this place to get anything, i.e. food, shower, a nap, solace or shoelace. I get up, there is someone in the shower. I go to the gym, get back there is someone in the shower. I have no idea who is in that shower, My son seems to fit a lot of orphans in his 10 X13. saying stuff like " but mom, they have no heat, their parents  beat them, they live  in a trailer that is not safe from the robbers" Robbers ????/ IN THIS NEIGHBORHOOD?  

My snack and drink are gone, remnants in the trash. My gym sock drawer is empty, no comb or brush anywhere. Vitamin water gone, dove bars gone, I was thinking of constructing a safe room with my stuff, comb, brush, chap-stick, scissors, pens, paper, Advil, vitamin c, sunglasses, floss, M and M’s, licorice, and gum. I can never find anything, it is strewn about. 

Dinner tonight was exciting. I was defrosting 3 Chicken Parmesan from the deli. I hear something drop in the kitchen. There is no one here but me and the frigging animals, dog cat -X2. The dog runs past me, chewing a frozen Parmesan cutlet. I have to tackle this bonehead to get my food back. I”lI feel like I live with hillbillies. !

     It has been a long year. I thought I would be further along, financially and career wise, but I am not.
I send out resumes what I call the ABYSS. You know, the sites, PlaneJobs.com, indeed.com, CareerBuilder.com,  Monster.com, Avination.com, NBAA.org, all of it.  

          I have dreams, where I am standing in a fog ridden line, it serpentines at 90 degree angles, my glasses are broken, my body heavy, my feet shackled in grey murk,  I look back, and there from what I can see are at least 500 people, all shapes and sizes, wearing a navy blue suit, page boy haircut and wings to the right. The line in front of me is the wall of china. I have no snack and no hope.....

        Except when my friend and my flying coach, Cinna Bon (an alias) but same initials, calls me. We bonded over the 2009 layoff of anything living. She always knows to call when I am about to stick pins in my eyes, or microwave my resume or when i will not get out of my pajamas or my own way, and she always champions me to wake the F---- up and get rolling.  She is Winnie and I at times, is that blasted grey donkey, E OR, from Winnie the Pooh .

    She got a job, I think in September 2010 with a really good solid company. When she got it, I was so so  happy on one hand, that she made it, but sad on the other, because now she would forget about my dreadful existence of nothingness and dust. But not my Cinna Bon. I think and hope I have inherited her for life. She is a victim cohabiting with male moody teenager. like me,  and soaring throughout this godforsaken life with a irreverent, crazy sense of humor paired with "I give a shit about other people so screw off bitches" We sort of have fashioned a club, the flight attendants, who do not need a BROOM to fly. The NBs, or non bitches. There is Cinna, Holly, Denise and a few others. We all want to help one another, at pretty much, any cost. No job, too big or small for us. The one sterling rule is "to never turn your back on a good person, and never screw anyone over." It is the "christ to aviation’s antichrist. It works. It is CODE. Like what the Marines speak of in hushed tones, and a simple nod of their lager heads. I am a pleased that the end justifies to means.

   I feel that Cinna bon has on a weekly basis, given me the soul to play any role in life.  The incredible beauty of this story is twofold. I have only met her once, outside if FlightSafety, and I feel like she will always make everything better.

I think people like us who fly like chance but brief encounters. I spend a considerable amount of time alone, which I like. I am actually good at it.

    I love people, I just do not want to be with them 24/7. I have a few days off, wander around doing errands, getting roots done, teeth cleaning, drop off library books, cook . sleep. email, fashion surf, make a few choice calls. But when I get a trip, I get thrown into a plethora of catering, new pilots, line people, nannies, chauffeurs, dispatchers, baggage handlers, assistants, assistants to the assistants, kids, babies, passengers young and not so young, the houseman, the yacht captain , customs agents, crew changing flight attendants, hotel checkin people, rental chair agents usually named brad, todd or heather, and whatnots. When I am home, I only see and interact with the same 10 people.

     I feel like I am in a play with actors walking across my stage, shutting or slamming doors, props of food, coats, umbrellas, briefcases, dogs, and the occasional chair to sit in. Flying really is a very polite spectator sport with second billing. I like to remain in the eves of the structure, appearing when needed or not. I want them to have a good time ,however limited it may be. It does not bother me if the audience does not remember me, I am just the stand in. The real flight attendant is on vacation.

    When we takeoff, the curtain comes up and when we land the curtain descends. Intermission is when the passengers are in a deep sleep, or one hour after they have eaten. It becomes quiet, and the actors take a rest to change shoes, reapply sunscreen, have a meal , readjust makeup,  brush their hair, or have a cup.

At the end of the final scene, the stadium empties, ticket stubs strewn and the lights go down.
A day well worked and none forgot their lines.