I always like to know the back-door of every opening,
entrance or establishment. I possess not a salacious mind but always an
inquisitive one. Before I continue, try
to keep a clean mind as you scroll through my thoughts but judge me not.
My magic carpet ride ranges from a Cessna to a Concorde, an
Airbus to the triple 777. It has always
baffled me the smooth operation of each flight besides the pilot’s skill, the cabin crew
denotes the tone of atmosphere.
The service industry 30.000 ft up perhaps plays an important role than those on
firm land. Why? The accentuation of events played up there
can go wrong demonstrating why Pursers contribute
the calm, despite a calamity happening a few rows behind. They are a different
breed from the norm.
Cruising speed heading west, food served, lights dimmed,
everyone settled into their movie of choice, the rhythmic engine humming,
beckoning sleep, a commotion develops at the back of the plane. A woman, bleeding profusely from her legs
high above Uzbekistan rings for
help. Trained for this emergency, does not necessary mean sharp instant
reaction. There is normally lack of
oxygen for purposes of flying at high altitude; the reactionary time slows down
and cabin crew look to the Purser who ranks above them. Only one bag of saline solution in the First
Aid kit, he instructs cabin crew to administer, calls if there is a medical
doctor on board. Lying on a prepared
plastic sheet, it is required to shout out and repeat every medication used
intravenously for purposes of insurance; while he informs the pilot of the dire
situation with the need to land at the nearest airport. The pregnant passenger is in and out of
consciousness. An airport found, she was
medi-vac to the nearest hospital and the
journey continues minus two passengers.
Drinks trolley commences, situation at even level.
The
other one is life or eros, which is related with sex, procreation, love,
pleasure, survival etc. So catching a
passenger hell bent to be a mile high club member, going at it in full
view of other passengers, or a raucous rhythmic banging emanating from the
toilet door, my purser of “life solution guru” goes about it ever so gently;
ever so understanding but also proof of his ethics, he handles it well. The wet towel distributed before lights-on
time, conveniently affected two purposes: humiliation and embarrassment with
something to wipe off that shameful indignity.
Throughout his 25 years service, the turbulence, electrical
storm, engines failing, the face of
death staring at him, often for an hour
until the plane lands. To
foster one of the two great principles that rule the human's psyche: death or
thanatos (according to Freud's theories). What goes through his mind?
All the wrongs; asking forgiveness; praying; and acceptance
evade the mind, engine noise straining against the wind, swaying, dropping
altitude, making you wish it would stop or descend immediately. It seems his
time had come. But the almighty said it was not so. Each bumpy ride exceeds
others, becomes the norm, shrugs his shoulders and continues to perform the
task of calmness and reassurance. You
think it's easy? It takes every gut,
every sinew in your body, every resistance to perfect that “being in control”
at all times. He has perfected the cool
poker face expression and we, the passengers, feel better.
Today, retirement takes him into training the new generation
of cabin crew. Underneath the facial
lines, when he cracks a smile, that calm exterior belies the effects of near
misses; jet lag; constantly upright, solving complaints; wrong eating times;
colleague politics; company politics; general wear and tear; with the unspoken passenger death on
flights. All these show in moments of
solitude.
With every future take-off, the roar of the engine, the max
speed needed for lift-off, the climb noise everyone is accustomed will leave me
in awe of those that make this job a coveted employment.
The back-door of all things does have its charm, if you only
let yourself be open to learn.
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