warm is good

Can I just say that I’m absolutely tickled that it’s the day before Thanksgiving, and I ran around today in a tank top? I realize that most folks prefer cold holidays, complete with white fluffy snow and all, but not this sister, no mam. (flashes back to winters in New York city)

I remember one Thanksgiving in particular,…the year was probably 1989? I was a first year Flight Attendant still required to carry a beeper in order to be available within a moments notice to fly where ever the company needed me to be. A senior flight attendant decided to call in sick (most likely a ploy to stay home for the holiday), which meant a poor merciless rookie like myself would be awoken from a deep sleep around 3:00 a.m. to the sound of a ringing telephone, and greeted by a gruff voice.

Sleepy disoriented FA: Hello?

Gruff voice: FA Bell?

Sleepy disoriented FA: Uh…maybe?

Gruff voice: this is crew schedule

Sleepy disoriented FA: thinks to herself, *damn* and attempts to disguise voice

Gruff voice: We need you for a trip departing JFK at 0700. Three day SDQ position 2

(thats a trip to the Dominican Repulic working jumpseat #2).

Sleepy disoriented FA: Are you sure you really want me to do this? I took a Benadryl before I went to bed and I was really comfy when you called. Are you aware of how cold it is outside?

Gruff voice: dead silence. (they never had a sense of humor)

I looked out the window. Oh goodie. It was snowing outside. The ground was covered in a good three inches of fresh snow that luckily hadn’t turned to sludge yet from the morning sun and traffic. Long story short, the next few hours consisted of me crawling out of my warm bed at 3:00 in the morning..., dressing myself in the required navy uniform with three inch pumps, grabbing my wheelies to carry my matching navy suitcase, attempting to pack for a three day trip, sleepy and let’s not forget drugged on antihistimines. If I remember correctly, I think I packed mismatched socks, a walkman, two turtle doves and a partridge in a pear… wait… that’s another holiday. Anyways…

If you’re not familiar with living in NYC, it’s a good two hours to the airport when you rely on public transportation. You can expect something like this:

First go down the 34 story elevator from your apartment to the cold outside, where you will walk three blocks in the dark, snow and wind to the nearest subway station. You will occasionally look back and marvel at the trail your wheelies leave in the snow, and wonder if some drunken homeless hunter will follow the estranged animal tracks to shoot it. In the subway you will be required to schlepp your own luggage up and down 40 flights of stairs, as this is not the south Scarlett, and you will be carrying your own luggage thank you very much.

You will encounter strange individuals on your journey who sing, shake cans, and on occasion might even growl at you, as you walk by pretending not to notice the smell of urine or the wad of bubblegum that has just attached itself to the bottom of your shoe.

One twenty minute train ride, and you get to do the whole process again, as your journey to Grand Central includes a transfer to the S train. It’s a good idea to stay awake on the subway, despite the early hour and your drug induced grogginess, as the guy next to you is eyeballing your cream cheese bagel you picked up between transfers.

Arriving at Grand Central, you will climb additional flights of stairs returning you to the earth’s surface from the dank underground of the NYC transit system, where you will then hurry and wait for the hour long express bus to transport you to JFK. The time is probably 5:30 a.m. by now.

Board the bus making sure to select a window seat to use as a head support cushioned by your jacket. This is your opportunity to eat your bagel and grab a quick nap, because the next time this bus will slow down will be as it rolls through the airport terminals just slow enough for you to jump off without twisting your ankle. It helps to fling your luggage out the door first rather than dragging your wheelies behind you, as you will inevitably become tangled in the folding bus doors and piss the driver off as you block traffic trying to free your wheelies and yourself from the hinges. Once at the office (aka airport), sign yourself in the required hour early, change into your extra panty hose that are now snagged and running amok down your leg and try to remember if you packed a bathing suit under your winter sweaters.

Although the trips were adventurous once they left the frozen tundra of New York,….the logistics of getting to and from work in the snow, were anything but pleasant for me. This southern girl will be content in her dark colored shorts from here on out, and you'll never hear me singing the song. I'm dreaming of a white....Christmas.

Grab the sunscreen. Sunshine is a good thing!