Blog-TOWER OF BABEL

I have become quite sentimental over the last few months. I have pondered the last twenty years of corporate work. When you showed up for on interview, people told you that they were thankful that you could make it. They laughed and joked, told old stories of bizarre flights and they hired you right away. They gave you a uniform that you were not ashamed to wear, like Brooks Brothers, or Ann or Calvin Klein, you were given an expense account (not that of a supermodel) where you could actually eat and maybe wash the great food down with a few glasses of vintage red.

Crews had your best interest at heart. You got two weeks off if you got married and as long as you needed to have a baby. The carpets and interiors of the jets were new and the wood sparkled. The supplies to perform you job were unlimited, and if you got sick, they filed nothing and you still got paid. Catering was whatever the passengers and crew wanted. The crew ate what the pax ate. There was never a compartmentalized box lunch with mystery meat and polyester bread, with token shrunk plum and saran wrapped brownie from 2009. The hotels smelled good, the lobby with marble flooring and a great staff. They remembered you and what you drank, and your room number without reminding them, people acted looked better and stood taller back then. Room service was an event to witness and you could leave your shoes outside your room to be shined. The bathroom was larger than my present hotel room. There were sometime heated towel racks and hot pipes to warm up the bathroom floor. All these things required thoughts of the guest.

Now, it is suggested we live on 25-50 dollars a day. whether in Chicago or London, no dry cleaning, no movie, no snack and no love. If catering is over 50.00 per person, they do not want to pay for it. No magazines, no cell phone, not internet,  imported chocolates or bathroom amenities, no floral, no eyeshades, no linen, no fine china, no mileage, no tolls, no no no no.

Are we headed to a socialist flying position? Am I supposed to fill up on the vending machine honey bun or Oreos packet? The FBO provides popcorn, apples, cookies, creamers, coffee, tea bas. pens, and mints. If I fill up on these comp items, will I be dead by next year? Or will I live long enough to be told I do not get any Medicare or Social Security, because the government ran out of money? What a choice.

When you see that 25 year old flight attendant in the FBO, you can smile at them and know that they will never know what we had. It is sad in a way. Her life will be filled with only cut rate hotels with see thru towels with no fabric softener,  Applebee's, Ponderosa, a dirty uniform from Cintas catalog, a cell phone bill, no movie, no pillow chocolate, 40 watt bulbs, a banner across the toilet saying it has been sanitized, a broken alarm clock  and a broken attitude.

We knew what the days of Camelot were, and the memory is forever mine. I have lived at the Peninsula, The Mandarin. the Ritz, the Greenbrier Resort,The Park Lane London, The Hotel Gansevoort, they were all the bomb. I can see for miles in my memories.
 

Corporate flying is slow right now, or the timing is off. I got a call at 300 am 2 weeks ago to fly, we had 23 inches of snow, un-shoveled, an asap trip. Needless to say, it was a no go for me. Then I was offered a 1 week trip SINT MAARTEN - trip, while I had a 2 day Ireland turn. Then, I had a juicy cushy 5 days in DC trip, during the time the movers were coming. If you cancel on movers 10 hours prior It can get costly. I moved my movers twice due to snow. I could not do it again, besides, I had a deadline to get out of where I was. 

So to be frustrated or not? What good would it do? The only cure to this is to jockey for more trips in the future. To say, "I could have made $6,000.00 in February” will only make you want to kick your dog. It is what it is. Fate, luck and go forward with plans. We all know that January and February are a bit slow. 

For the 10 days I could not work in February, I will make them up next month. Money is money, and you just have to stockpile a bit in your savings for lean months. August always is slow for me. So in the past two years, i worked like a pig dog in July and go away in August. I do not even sweat August anymore. 

So if you know your trend and the trend of private flying, you will stay abreast. be more sane and not have to worry about nothing coming in. It is my theory on corporate prepare and repair. 

I found some bold truth this morning at 719 am, Sept 1st, the year of our freshman year, lord help me with coping with Ben’s growth. I cannot handle that he is in high school. High school either makes one, or breaks one socially, emotionally, and academically.

I was an outcast in high school. If it were a rendition of the Breakfast Club, I would have been played by Ally Sheedy . No words would ever cover my thoughts, my poetry or my teenage pain. I felt like a poet laureate and that the rest of the world was stupid. I would picture myself living in a Parisian garret , living on leftovers from the class c restaurant below me on Rue des Terribles  , and having a French brooding boyfriend who shouted a lot and smashed the good paper plates. Ah, to be broke, talented, in Europe, jobless and in love. (sounds like a freelance flight attendant, doesn't it?)

Ben is playing high school differently. He still talks to his parents, not much, but does talk when needed. He is clean cut, hates drugs and alcohol, (whew), and wants everyone to act not in a rude way. I watched as his 73”, very thin frame loping into Branford high, he looked back( slo mo) and waved. I choked, gasped and cried. It is the beginning of the animal that will eventually, but hopefully not, eat him, and spit him into a man.

I felt as though I was witnessing the end of all things common between us. The word "mom" erased. What will he be, who will he marry, will he fall in love? How many times? Will he live his dream of being artistic? Or will it be wiped out by college? I said to Ben today "do not loose your dreams, be who you want to be.” Am I living thru him or warning him that he may have to sell out and become a carpet salesman in Paramus, NJ?

Think about it. What were your dreams in high school. Mine were to travel, fall in love with a few tormented (check), marry a foreigner (check) join the peace crop ( no check), write my memoirs (I am working on it ok,!!!!! I am waiting for the publishing company to call, it is a 212 area code! do not ask me again). Have a cool child with a heart with not much chance of becoming an asshole (double check), get closer with my family (check), forgive my mother (no check, check in mail), and have a lot of diverse friends, check check check) and if in USA, live by the sea, near a cafe, library and art gallery.

So my question deigns truth, did you become who you dreamt?

 

I have not had much to write about lately. I accept a trip, it cancels. I get another one, i cannot take it because it overlaps on the one I have, then that cancels. I am holding a bad hand. I better keep my sunglasses on, someone may see my bluff. 

I am on a what was to be a 24 day trip. We were to go to london, which we did for 8 days, turned into 11, then on to nice, was to be 14, it is now 6, back home on the 6th of july. total days "laying about" a lot. We may leave for New York on the 6th or go back to London. 

It is Africa hot here in Nice. Waiting till the sun loses some strength to go for a shop and drop. The children in France are so breathtakingly beautiful, they look like ads for A and F or the gap. Their hair styles and clothing choices must start at birth. Their eyelashes are an inch long and they love their moms and dads. They hang on their every word. It is like parents KNOW STUFF, secret clues about the world, the planet, music, art and food. I like kids because they are innocent, real and not all up in their own villa about money, status, gossip and all the crap that floats thru an adult mind 24/7.

I want to go back to age 9. No puberty for me. Give me 9. The children in London are not bad either. I look at kids when I am away from ben. The kids in London, are fair skinned, and they have the coolest school uniforms. They are proper, plaid skirt or shorts, starched white shirt and a beanie. I am sure they are mortified, but it pleases me to know there is order in the world. I had to wear the same as a child. 

 

I think I have become jaded working on private jets. It is like i lost my soul, my childhood gone and I am really at the beck and call of the rich. I am always reminded of the Areosmith song. "eat the rich". Well, lets not let the rich eat us! Another day another 450.00, really? What is this going to bring me spiritually? Hello?

 

I feel like I am in a play or a TV series. Being freelance, I am the understudy, the fill in person, if someone gets sick, or wants time off or surgery. If my son asks me why I am not working, i sometimes say, " no medical problems this week. CHARACTER playing flight attendant sarah willis- fill in- played by Betsy Dwyer- a nobody from the wrong side of the tracks. 

 

 I am going to take August off. It is summer, I deserve summer too right? I need a vaca as well. I will be played by myself and there will be no fill ins or understudies on that. 

 

I spoke with daniel a few days ago. I needed guidance on what to write about this time, It had been a while. I am going to write from the heart this time, not hiding anything.

I have been on 6 trips in 5 days. How? you ask. 

5 day Tortola, 4 days Jamaica, 4 days super bowl, 4 days Vancouver. 

all cancelled. I am using my passport as a coaster. I feel like I am suck in a permanent dress rehearsal. 

My warm weather and cold weather suitcase lay confused in my car. magazines , lemons, lime and milk bought but not consumed. You are on, you are  off, you are on standby, you are going, you are not going. Owner wants the a/c, no flight attendant, you are not on the overflight, they want a male, they want a yoga instructor, do you know magic tricks, they want mandarin speakers, they want vegan chef, they do not want me.

I am up, I am down, I am still on the ground. I just need a takeoff and a landing, with whatever in between. I will speak in devils tongue, just get me GOING. My son keeps finding me at home, looking a bit scruffy, bewildered and lack luster. He will eat those lemons for dinner. I will throw the milk at that wall i have been staring at for 1 month. I do not even know how to pack anymore. 

I forgot shoes, the most important part of a together outfit. I did reap 2 cancellation fees for my efforts, I will go buy  25 cupcakes with the money and eat them all while I again, watch OPRAH and DR PHIL. I am going to burn my blue and white cloud bathrobe that my mom gave me 8 years ago. It could stand up in the corner by itself by now. 

My unemployed look is.. blue cloud bathrobe, white socks, hair akimbo, raccoon eyes, rainforest expresso coffee with vanilla creamer, pen over my ear, trips sheets all over the desk, glasses, phone in said robes pocket, and maybe a hammer (you never know when you will need one). The dog looks at me in hope of WALK? 

I look at my dog and say FLY? My cat, who is alway on my bed (get a job, cat), looks at me, and thinks "what a loser, come on, take a nap with me." I will never complain again about having a full-time job. I looked in the New Haven newspaper, in the want ads, and where there was 4 pages of ads, now, there is one column. HVAC technician? Surgical nurse? Hospice care? Let Yale University experiment on you? possibly. Spinal Tap test 400.00,????? yeah . Buddy Acne patient. paid study? 

All I say is next week will be better. It better be. 

My parents taught me thru fear. They did not administer to soft spoken lessons that I give Ben. I try to teach him thru "love and logic".

When I discovered I was pregnant, I had to look back on how I was reared, and It was now, really funny. Then, it was not. 

The Irish Catholic God was accountable for pretty much everything, your thoughts, actions and deeds. I remember burying my hamster with a cross, holy water and a little casket, talking to this little dead furry body, saying "you must repent" this was to wash away "hammy's" wanderlust and sinful ways. I was convinced all freedom, fun and racy  thoughts about someone else’s body, was going to make me burn in hell like a million stars. I tried to picture hell at age 12. 

Of course it was all shades of red, fires everywhere, people running, moaning, screaming. All my teachers were there, because, in my mind, I sent them there a few times. Hitler was there, Machiavelli James Dean, Charles Milles Manson was going there, the woman down the street who beat her kids, she was there. The dog who bit me when I was 6 was there, and all the kids who called me skeleton in grade school, had a row of bus seat with their names on them in hell.  The guy who broke my heart when I was 13, he had a seat as well. The gossipy girls in my class were on their way there, and the creepy guy in the candy store was there. 

My parents told me that if I did not do as they asked, academically and in the house, that they would drop me off at the orphanage, "for a trade". Yes, i did believe this. I would want to know where the orphanage was, to sort of get a look see at my new digs.

I always wondered about the "birds and the bees". I still have not gotten that "talk". Ask your mother, ask your father. I was bounced around, back and forth, until the "fast girl ", debby told me. I almost threw up. I could never picture my own parents partaking in such savage liaisons. 

My parents also used the hell phrase on dating. My father would answer to door of the impending date, and interview him as if he was going to be performing brain surgery. Not many boys were fond of this torture. If I partook in any FUN, there would be a lightening bolt, going thru my head, that only my parents could see. I was going to start wearing a hat, so they could not see the bolt. This was counterproductive. 

I was also told if I frowned my face would freeze like that. If I was not married by age 23, I was to be an old maid. If I married outside of my religion, I should be banished to a life of incredible unhappiness. If I did not bring up my kids catholic, i would never be spoken to again. If I came home pregnant, I was just to pack my bags and leave, and never contact them again. Al these things involve leaving without wanting to leave. If I stole, my hands would fall off. If I complained about walking to school, my parents walked to school with no feet, in 3 foot snow drifts, with no coat, hat or gloves. Money does not grow on trees was another. There are people starving in china, was another. 

If you lie, your tongue will fall out or your nose will grow longer. If you get fat, no one will love you. If you do not have a job, people will think you are lazy. If you do not make the curfew, we will lock you out. 

So why am I so normal?

Aviation has wiped out all of my catholic guilt, I have made me normal, free spirited, and possess a devil may care attitude. It has saved me from a a frightful life. I am still catholic by the way, just not a small time girl type catholic.