i feel like a martini, shaken not stirred

After my massage I go back to the hotel. Often I try and have a little nap before attempting to work through the night, but my massage was so good I opted for an extra session. When I walk into my room, I notice that there is a note under my door. Also, a light is flashing on the bedside phone.

This can’t be good news.

I am informed that my flight has been delayed by several hours, and thus going to work has also been postponed by a few hours. That’s not enough time for me to leave the hotel or to have a quick nap. At least I have the comfort of staying in my hotel room, whereas the passengers would have to wait at the airport. And Manila’s airport is not the world’s most modern place. The terminal is so antiquated that it doesn’t even have a Starbucks. How uncivilised, I mock; if the passengers are anything like me, and need coffee as much as I do, they are going to be furious.

The flight back home negates all the good that the day of shopping and massage has done for me. As well as being late, the plane is full of rowdy drinkers. Also, to make thing worse, we experience constant turbulence. Gabrielle is playing princess games again, as I had expected, and is sitting in our crew rest area, pretending to be sick. She pulled the same trick the last time I flew with her. She sat down for the whole duration of the meal service and joined us when all the hard work was already done.

The rest of the crew barely have time to bitch about Gabrielle as we are swamped with drink orders. Moreover, the turbulence is becoming more severe, and walking straight is becoming an almost impossible thing to do.

As I stagger through the aisle, carrying every imaginable combination of alcoholic drinks on the menu, I feel as if I’m the ball in a pinball machine. I bounce off the seats. I bounce off the bulkheads. I bounce off passengers’ shoulders, elbows and knees. Yet, somehow, I manage not to spill a drop.

Aircrafts are designed for making maximum revenue. Seats are crammed into a small vessel, and the aisles are narrow. Moreover, the average seat has been designed to comfortably fit an eight year old. As most of the passengers are surely larger than an eight year old, body parts spill out into the aisles.

I can understand that some people cannot help but take up more space than others. What I cannot understand, however, is how some passengers lack spatial awareness and stick their elbows, knees and feet out into the aisle. If the cart bumps into them, it doesn’t hurt the cart. I am, however, not quite as sturdy as a metal cart.

There are usually two of us on a cart, so the odds are you end up spending half your service time walking backwards, and going backwards makes it all the more difficult to dodge passengers. Flight attendants, therefore, train themselves to get really good at walking backwards. If they ever introduce a backwards-walking obstacle course at the Olympics you can bet that a flight attendant will take home the gold medal.

Walking through the cabin with a cart or a tray of drinks is difficult, yes, but add to it the additional challenge of a moving, vibrating, shaking floor and it becomes almost impossible. Much of the time we use the cart like a walking frame, to keep ourselves standing and stable in these turbulent times.

Unfortunately, turbulence has been rough and persistent for most of this flight. I actually feel a little squeamish, and I know I can’t be the only one. Onboard are dozens of men who have spent many days getting drunk in sleazy Manila bars, and are now continuing with this habit on the aircraft. Add constant bumps and shaking to the alcohol intake and something has got to give – and it does.

It takes only one man to start the show: one man throws up, then another, then another one, and so on. It is like someone lined up a row of bicycles and pushed one over, for it to fall into the next and push it over, which then falls over. Once it starts, it never stops. The drunken passengers are going down like flies.

I have never thrown-up onboard before, but this flight might change that. I have cleaned up vomit more times than I could care to count, yet, I feel I’ve never felt this way before. I’m sure that even if I do as much as see a stray carrot, I would lose control. I am not the only one feeling this way, I discover. Most of the crew are feeling the same way. ‘What do we do?’ we wonder nauseously.

Only one thing can prevent the passengers from drinking, we soon realise, and this one thing will also prevent us from cleaning up messes while we are feeling sick ourselves. We call the flight deck and ask the pilots to turn on the seatbelt-sign.

I scurry into my crew seat quicker than a rat does up a drainpipe. I am so thankful for the break. This turbulence is not severe, but just extremely relentless.

I have been in severe turbulence before; it is sudden and unexpected, and clinging onto something usually helps in such cases. One time I was out in the cabin, handing out meals from a cart, when sudden turbulence hit the flight. Before I know it, I am flung to the ceiling. When I crashed down to earth again, I fortunately landed on what was possibly the world’s fattest passenger.

‘Sir, would you like a lap dance with your dinner?’ I almost blurted out.

It is easy to laugh off things when you avoid serious injury by sheer luck. Sadly, on that same flight, several other crew members were not so lucky. One guy broke a bone in his wrist, another hostie hit her head and several passengers also sustained minor injuries.

Ever since that flight, whenever I feel that little shudder, which indicates that a major jolt is about to follow, I wrap my foot under the nearest support bar located under the passenger’s seats and hang on for dear life.

Though I am confident that this flight won’t be as turbulent, I am not looking forward to facing the vomit-drenched masses when the seat-belt sign goes off.

I’ll get the disposable gloves and the spill kit, and then hand them over to Gabrielle, I think to myself.

I have a little chuckle as I imagine myself approaching Gabrielle and saying, ‘You’ve had a nice little rest, haven’t you dear? Now get your lazy butt out there and clean up all that vomit!’

Just as I am praying for the seat belt sign to stay on for the whole flight, the dreaded ‘bing’ sound goes off.

I unbuckle my seatbelt and mutter, ‘Oh God, here we go.’

The next six hours are pure torture. The entire crew, with the exception of Princess Gabrielle, work like dogs to clean the cabin and feed the passengers. Just as the annoying turbulence subsides and the last of the vomit has been cleaned up, guess who miraculously recovers? Princess Gabrielle, of course.

It must have been hell surely for her, sitting there and taking rest, while we were busy doing work that felt as terrible as having our teeth pulled.

Most cabin crew are extremely diligent and work harder than is required of them. The few members who don’t do any work, like Gabrielle Reiner, almost always stick out like a sore thumb. Being a flight attendant is truly about working in a team, and if someone doesn’t pull their weight it becomes noticeable immediately. All the crew members have noticed Gabrielle, and none of them are happy.

None of us tell the Princess what we really feel about her though. Most of us just avoid her, but I can guarantee that nobody will forget her or her actions – or the lack of actions. When I get home I will do everything in my power to forget this flight. However, I cannot forget Gabrielle’s laziness, no matter how hard I try. My blood boils as I think about how the princess gets paid as much as I do, but gets away with doing half the work I do. And it is not just me who gets short changed by her behaviour. All the crew members need to work harder, and the passengers ultimately receive proportionately less service. For every action (or lack of action) there are consequences. I am so angry.

I once read a great quote in a comic strip: ‘I know the world isn’t fair, but why isn’t it ever unfair in my favour?’