Precious Cargo

It's 2am....I'm awake in a dark room....but where am I? SERIOUSLY, WHERE AM I???? I struggle to find the switch for the light on my night stand. Finally, after knocking over every single thing on the table top, I find that ever-elusive light switch and fumble to turn it on. I look around. Nope. Still have absolutely NO idea where I am.....I reach over to find my glasses and realize that the telephone is my salvation. The telephone. The answer to my question. I rub my eyes, don my glasses that have seen better days (they've been rumbling around in my suitcase WAY too long) and I lean over to look at the phone. There it is. The Marriott in Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan. Ah ha! Its all coming back to me. Then it hits me. Damn. It's 2am and I'm wide awake. This, among many more things to come, is an occupational hazard....forgetting where you are and needing something in writing to confirm your location. Its happened countless times....the hotel rooms are a blur....my "homes away from home". Same old room....the overly coordinated chairs and nightstands, the sometimes yes, sometimes SO not, comfortable beds, the 'business style' desk and chair with (hopefully free - a gift from the Gods) internet connection, the bathroom with the mini-soaps and shampoos that I so rarely use (I've come to bring ALL of my own products - I'm a walking drugstore/salon)...its all there. Same thing, different city. And honest to God, I love all of it. It means that I'm on the other side of the world, in a new and inviting city, ready to be explored....although I WILL wait 'til daylight to begin my exploration.

So in spite of sleeping medication that would put down a Clydesdale, I'm awake. Time to check my email inbox. I pop open a diet coke, (there it is again, my 'addiction' :)) and flip on my computer. I pray that there is SOMETHING in my inbox that will connect me to my world back at home....a seemingly insignificant email from a friend or family member, but OH so significant, something that will make my day. What did we do before the internet? How did the average flight attendant SURVIVE without it? what did they do at 2am when they couldn't sleep? I'll tell you what they did....they struggled to go back to sleep, woke early with a hot cup of coffee, and got out and EXPLORED. I tip my hat and bow down to them. They were the "traveler warriors". They actually CARRIED (not ROLLED) their bags through the airport. They wore mile-high heels (bunions be damned!) and ALWAYS looked impeccable to a fault in their uniforms. They served champagne and 5 course meals in first class. Their makeup was beautiful, even after a 16 hour work day. They NEVER wore flat, frumpy shoes inflight. And they never, EVER, stopped smiling.

Flash forward a few decades....traveling has changed. A LOT. Although I have to say right now, that I am proud to work with the people I fly with, because while lots of things have changed, those smiles have never gone away. I work with a crazy bunch. Being trapped on a metal tube, hurdling forward at 500 miles per hour can make you a bit "cagey". But my group of coworkers is a rare bunch....much different than many of the flight attendants you see today....(my apologies to those of the wonderful 'mainline' folks that ARE out there) but my coworkers come to work ready to serve. We may not serve 5 course meals anymore, and hell, we dont even have first class on our planes, but we are there to serve... and you can see it in the eyes of my coworkers. We KNOW that our passengers are precious cargo....they are the proud men and women of the armed forces, and they are OURS to care for, even if for only a few hours. And yes, it's "Chicken or Pasta", "Chicken or Pasta", "Chicken or Pasta" over and over again....350 times in a row to be exact....(we have some Big ASS planes), but we offer that "Chicken or Pasta" with style and panache and ALL the love and care in the world. Our passengers aren't on their way to Disneyland or the beach....they're on their way to WAR and we may just be the last civilian contact they have for a very, very long time.

Ahhh....MY passengers.....they are incredible. They are exhausted, worn down, covered with sweat and sand, carrying rucksacks and weapons, not oversized, unapproved carry-ons and Mickey Mouse ears....they are thrilled to be served a hot meal, elated that they can have ice with their Cokes, and don't care that the movie selection has been out of theaters for months. I have yet to be (and never expect to be) yelled at by a passenger....they are too polite for that. I have been called "ma'am" more times than I can imagine, and have seen more photos of soldiers' wives, husbands and kids than I can count. And I truly cherish every single "ma'am" and photo. As someone wise once said, "I am their wife, their girlfriend, their parent, their friend, their soulmate, their buddy, and their sounding board." I have laughed, and cried, with my passengers many MANY times. And it never, ever gets old. There is nothing like the flights HOME, with the eager, anticipating faces on my passengers' faces....and there is nothing worse than saying goodbye and thank you to them, fighting back tears, as I send them off to war. I always say a prayer, for every single one of them, and many times have to excuse myself to the comfort of the isolated lavatory, so that I can sob in private. It never gets easier. They are my precious cargo and I thank God every day for letting me be a part of their journey.

For they will always, and forever, be a part of mine......