Blog-TOWER OF BABEL

I was busier than a one armed paper hangar for Jan - Jun, averaging 16 days per month (do not ask me where that money went). Now, there is only sagebrush in my bank account, fumes and dust from days gone by. I cannot even get arrested and if I did, I would have scrappy nails and roots, due to the choice of grocery over beauty and its monthly price. I now call people I have never met in flight departments and tell them my days free. I throw a few days in for myself so they do not think that I am a total loser. It does not help that Obama, who I VOTED FOR, rambles on and on about corporate jet tax. I can see corporate jets lining up in a sidewalk sale, a 2 for 1, hanging upside down on a metal rack, because they simply..... went out of season.

Where are we going to end up? A temp job assignment and maybe the a/c is going to sold, already is for sale, there is a lien on it, or the company has not paid its bills, or the pilots are controlling maniacs, or the last flight attendant went insane. I cannot blame him or her in this arena. Flying used to be so NORMAL, no backstabbing tolerated, if so, you were fired. Now, they get promoted for the stabbing. How do you know where a job called HOME could be? I thought flying would always be there for me, now I do not know if I can be there for it. Can I ever understand how this muck and mire happened?

How did it get to this final dead end? Has our integrity gone missing?Can I find mine on a milk carton? Half these flight departments, have someone missing the sensitivity chip, the one who was cagey enough to survive all the layoffs. You, have to kiss their -----, but at what price can you stand yourself?
 

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.
 

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.