Sunday, April 13, 2014

Palm Sunday Serendipity (continued)

Approximately 5:45pm...

As natural light wanes, the shadows lengthen and the delicate light of candles, already lit, adds a sense of awesome reverence to this sacred place. The bells have pealed continuously for over a half-hour, underscored by the hushed greetings and murmurings of the pious, now gathering.  In some such places, reverence is austere, even cold. In St Mary Abbots, it is as warm, comfortable and welcoming as a cashmere blanket.

A young couple, their precious cargo bundled in a stroller, are the youthful exceptions to the patronage of tonight's far.  By all appearances, those who gather here this evening have always done so and will continue to do so until the time when they gather in another, even holier place.  

The alien screech of a siren somehow finds it's way in from the still-bustling street. The unwelcome sound underscores the shortness of the distance yet the vastness of the dissimilarity between the "within" and the "without".  I am constantly reminded:  sanctuary. 


The Passion of Christ is the most moving part of the Easter season for me. I take it very personally when we answer Pilate in unison:  "Crucify him!" when he asks "what of Jesus?"  Thus, we accept the responsibility for our Saviour's fate, a fate suffered so that our sins may be forgiven.  Tonight, rather than actively participating in this annual ritual, I will hear others sing it, as interpreted by Johann Sebastian Bach.

The instrument tuning has started again...

The vicar welcomes us warmly and admonishes us strongly:  "mobile phones" are not permitted.  

"Switch them off. 


You simply don't need the damned things!"

He then took his place in the choir where he sang with a perceptible gusto. Though it wasn't possible to distinguish which was his voice, if its quality matched its passion, he was certainly a notable asset to the performance.

The interlude in the performance occurs at the point where Jesus agonizes in the Garden of Gethsemane.  How ironic that so many of the celebrants choose to stretch their legs in St Mary Abbot's garden, resplendent in springtime.

When we return, we follow Christ's passion in earnest culminating with the soprano's solo lament, "It is fulfilled".

What a wonderful service.  What a wonderful experience.  What will my next cancellation bring?  For all of life's blessings, especially the unforeseen ones, I am so grateful!

I remember thinking, "This is such a special experience, I can't believe that I'm here alone."  But I wasn't alone.

The faithful are never alone.

Palm Sunday Serendipity

I was awakened (repeatedly) this morning to be told that our return flight to Houston was at first delayed, then cancelled. Divine providence!

As I write (on my iPhone), I'm sitting in a pew at St. Mary Abbots Church, just off of the Kensington High Street on a glorious spring morning in anticipation of BACH: St John Passion (The Purcell Orchestra, St Mary Abbots Choir & Singers, Conductor Prof. Mark Uglow present an Easter performance by candlelight) at 6:30 tonight.   Many of the musicians have arrived and are rehearsing on vintage wooden wind instruments, most if which I can't name but whose sounds are oddly, old-worldly familiar. 

From the moment I stepped onto the grounds of this Church of England, I've been made to feel so welcomed. The lady from whom I purchased my ticket appeared only SLIGHTLY less ancient than the church. Despite my interrupting her lunch, she seemed so pleased to chat and brag about what is sure to be a memorable evening and performance.

Just now, I'm sitting dead-on in the middle of the choir.  More musicians arrive and "tune".  The great organ comes to life.  My presence here is not even remarked upon.  The Sun's rays are streaming through the celestory.  Suddenly, all is silence. 


The soul recognizes the comfort of its spiritual home in Earth. 

A solo, tenor voice rises. It is that of the conductor. 

Strings find their melody and harmony. The tenor voice is replaced by soprano as the conductor faces his charges and the Renaissance comes to life in the still air. A mournful cello underscores the lilting voice of an earthbound angel. 

The tempo jumps to life. The remaining players take their parts. Ethereal, spiritual, heavenly...

At a break, I leave the sanctuary of the church and emerge into the rare but welcome brightness of mid-day London.  My anticipation of the evening, itself a serendipitous gift from the Father, rises, then falls as I emerge from peace into chaos:  Sunday afternoon in crowded, boisterous Kensington High Street.  

The universality of the yin and yang, separated by a few steps and centuries-old stone walls.  

Wednesday, April 9, 2014

One Overcooked Steak is One Too Many

When I work a "premium" galley position, or any galley position for that matter, I become very task-oriented.  Flying home from Tokyo this week, I worked the A zone galley.  I was responsible for assuring that our premium food service was delivered according to company standards for 25 of our highest-paying and most loyal guests.  Preparation and timing are critical.  They require much focus from the galley Fight Attendant to be accomplished well.


When my Japanese-speaker colleague informed me that the "1K" gentleman (very high frequent flyer status) specifically asked that his steak be cooked "medium rare", I took the request quite seriously.  He said that he was almost always disappointed with the degree to which a beef entree was overcooked on the airplane.  (The editorial side of me can think of SO many responses to that statement!)

Many factors can/will contribute to the degree of control we have or don't have to meet this customer's expectations.  Chief among them is the degree to which the food is pre-cooked in the flight kitchen before ever being loaded onto the aircraft.  (For the uninitiated, we don't so much "cook" the meals onboard as we "re-heat" them, even in a premier class of service.)  Another variable is the inconsistency of the onboard ovens.  Sure, they all look the same but their performance can vary wildly.  Another variable is the amount of time between the end of the cooking cycle and when the meal is presented; sitting in the ambient heat after cooking completion, the meal continues to "cook".

When the Service Manager arrived to help me "plate" the A zone meals for delivery, a significantly longer time than usual had elapsed since the end of the cooking cycle.  I was aware of that variable and asked that he designate a steak from the lowest oven rack for 2E to assure that he received the LEAST cooked option. (Our convection ovens tend to cook from the top-down.  Those on top are cooked the most; those on bottom, the least.)  Upon removing the container cover, it was clear that 2E was to be disappointed today.

Although I only cooked the meals for 18 minutes, I fear that the "sit time" doomed us to failure in one very important customer's eyes.  It was my responsibility.  My sit time calculation was off and the result was overcooking.  "Well done" would have been understatement!

After completing the plating for all customers in our cabin, I took a moment to clean up and prep for the next part of the service:  cheese and dessert.  A spare moment allowed me just enough time to face the jury and accept the verdict...

"Mr. Wu.  My name is Tony and I'm the galley FA today.  I am the one responsible for your meal preparation and I want to apologize for not meeting your expectations on the steak."  Mr. Wu's face pretty much said it all.  He was disgusted.  I looked at his plate and he'd taken a bite or two, enough to reveal the grey interior of an overcooked steak.  After he took a moment or two to let me know JUST how disappointed he was, I apologized again and excused myself.  Sure, I don't have total control over such things but I have enough that the result could have been considerably better than it was.

My order-taking colleague, Mitsue, was waiting when I returned to the galley.  "What did he say?", she asked.  "Oh, I think you know...".

Of course, it's not the end of the world!  Mr. Wu survived, as did my crew and I.  But I think it's safe to say that everyone concerned was disappointed.  I didn't and won't lose sleep over the situation but I won't forget it either.  Talking to Mr. Wu about it was a little "outside the box" but wouldn't it be worse to leave it alone?  Leave him to think I don't care?  Or worse, leave him to take out his frustrations on my colleagues working the aisle positions when they had no control over it?

After the service was complete and the cabin was settling in for the night, I stopped by and asked Mr. Wu what he'd like for the pre-arrival brunch.  We have 3 entree choices but limited supplies of all.  I thought it would be nice if he at least got his first choice.  Mr. Wu said he'd like to have the udon option and, without so much as a smile, he said,  "Can I get that medium rare?"

Monday, April 7, 2014

My Deadhead Odyssey

I dedicate this blogpost to my friend Seth Miller and all the "road warriors" for whom my experience today is just another day at the office.  All day long, I found myself thinking, "what would Seth do?"  (I'm happy to say that I didn't follow what I was certain to be his advice on some very key points; alcohol consumption, for one.)

Toward the end of March, I traded my scheduled Tokyo trip on April 9th with a colleague who was to fly April 6th.  The move would strategically allow Philip and me more time to get to Pensacola to check on the progress of our "retirement project" at Navy Point.  The early Tokyo flight, for which I traded, is a new frequency that just started on April 1st.  When I learned several days ago that our trip's originating flight leg was cancelled and that we would be "deadheading" (deadheading is when a crewmember is paid to ride as a passenger in order to cover a trip) to Narita (Narita is the larger of the 2 major airports serving Tokyo.  It is also the name of a small town nearby, housing a well-known Buddhist temple), it certainly changed the complexion of my decision to trade.  Houston-Narita is a +/- 14 hour non-stop flight.  Though I've worked it often, I've never been a passenger on such a long flight before.  Just imagine, all the things I hate most about flying as a passenger (confinement, sitting for extended periods, lack of control, confinement, boredom, confinement, dehydration, mind-numbing fatigue, confinement, etc) would be extenuated to a degree that I'd hoped never to experience.  This was to be just another example of the sage thoughts of my first Flight Attendant supervisor, "There are 2 kinds of people:  those who have and those who are going to..."

Charged batteries on the PEDs, shelf-stable snacks, a lumbar support pillow, hot water bottle, ice bag, and a suspension of dread accompanied me to my EconomyPlus aisle seat on flight 7 this morning.  22C was the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, as I'd been attempting to change to an aisle seat ever since learning that I would be deadheading.  Crew Scheduling assigned every crewmember a window seat, a situation ill-suited to my 54 year-old male physiology.  (Of course, every seat on the flight would be full and then some...since our earlier flight had cancelled and those customers must also be re-accommodated.)  I was quickly joined by another Flight Attendant in 22A whom I'd never met and we anticipated the pending arrival of our middle seat seatmate.  It was just a matter of time, wasn't it?

Not today!  The seat map on our airline's mobile "app" showed that 22B would be occupied but that hapless individual never showed.  What good fortune!  As is so often the case, our good fortune was fleeting.  A "person of size" assigned 2-3 rows ahead of us was in possession of a 30-35" wide posterior which simply did not conform to the limits of our 18" wide EconomyPlus seats  (EconomyPlus offers 4-5" additional legroom but no additional width).  When the working Service Manager, my friend Jamie, approached in the company of the gate agent, I foresaw what would be asked of me.  The gentleman of size, seatbelt extender in hand, followed them closely as they slowed and hovered near my seat.  Jamie bent to ask if I would change seats, as much to relieve the poor lady in 20B as to accommodate the subject genetleman's size with the additional space of the vacant center seat in my row.  "Of course.  I'm happy to help you, Jamie."  And I am.  How many times have I been faced with a similar predicament, only to make inquiry after fruitless entreaty of those simply to self-important to be of assistance?  The gentleman was exceedingly grateful, as was the young woman who was to be my future seatmate and who now recovered the full use of her seat.  The prospect of 13 hours, 22 minutes "sharing" her 18" wide B seat was obviously not terribly appealing to her.

Our boarding was delayed somewhat by the maintenance department as they finished resolving one of the niggling little issues that can and do plague an intercontinental airliner.  The fact that our flight was destined for Japan and that many of today's passengers were, in fact, Japanese, aided us in mitigating the impact of that delay.  The Japanese are an extraordinarily disciplined people.  As one might expect, boarding was orderly and quick.  With the possible exception of my reseating experience, there was little to slow down what can be a cumbersome and frustrating process.  When I first flew to Japan, from Hawaii, in the 1980s, I was struck by the culture of discipline and the value that its practitioners place on order.  A full 747 could be boarded in a fraction of the time that the process would take to other destinations.  And I used to joke that flights to and from Tokyo were predictable:  when the flight landed 8-10 hours after departure, the lavatories were cleaner and more orderly than they had been when freshly serviced.  

My colleagues in the cabin today were friendly and helpful during boarding, traits which tend to "ratchet down" the air of anxiety and stress that often accompanies this critical phase of a flight.  The aircraft itself appeared tidy, spacious, well-thought-out and comfortable, I noticed from a passenger perspective.  Cleanliness is a critical component to that all-important first impression.  The Service Manager's announcements and those of the designated Japanese speaker were EXCELLENT:  calm, unemphatic, well-toned and enunciated, the epitome of professional.  It was clear that the ISM, Jamie, did not deviate from the company's announcement script and her delivery was perfect, in my estimation.  (Whether or not the Japanese speaker deviated from script, I really couldn't say.)

I felt a certain pride as the crew were called to their positions in the aisle for the video safety demonstration.  They exuded the unmistakable air of assuredness and comfort of place and function.  The video began, its tone underscored by RHAPSODY IN BLUE.   I thought to myself, "if I didn't hear, see and participate in this day-in and day-out, I would find it all to be truly impressive."  It impressed me anyway!

13 hours, 22 minutes from take off to touchdown today.   Wow, even as I write this, I glance up and learn that we have 12 hours, 24 minutes remaining.  After 30 years of flying, it is still almost unfathomable to me that a vessel larger than my 2200 sq foot home, weighing hundreds of thousands of pounds and accommodating 267 passengers, their belongings and supplies for their needs for an entire day can leave the ground under its own power and stay aloft for such an extended period of time!  My grandfather, Harold Reece, who taught science in the public schools of North Georgia for nearly 50 years would be incredulous.

As I looked up from my vegetarian lunch tray of Chana (chickpeak) Massala (the option today was an Asian-inspired chicken dish) I noticed that AIRSHOW precisely predicted that we were exactly 12 hours from arrival at Narita.  The cabin crew has been quite efficient to deliver and recover a first round of drinks, lunch and second drinks in an hour and 22 minutes since takeoff.  A third lunch choice, tradttionally a beef option, was eliminated by my airline employer at the beginning of April, likely for cost reasons.  Of course, marketing the decision as being "health friendly" by only offering chicken and vegetarian entrees is the purported  rationale.  Ours is a nation, a society locked in the throes of an epidemic of obesity.  In stark contrast, most Asian cultures manifest a self-discipline that puts them at odds with issues of overweight.  That contrast is underscored by the populous of today's flight.

Now, at 32,000 feet with 5938 miles remaining to fly, the truly tedious part of the trip truly begins.  The crew is clearing the cabin from the prescribed 1st service, my fellow travellers and I are setting in, and somewhere near the four corners of Utah, Colorado, New Mexico and Arizona, I notice that the remaining 11 hours, 23 minutes will take us almost directly over Salt Lake City, Northeastern Nevada, "coasting out" over Northwestern Oregon on a northwesterly arc which traverses the Aleutian Island chain before gently turning to the Southwest, toward landfall over Eastern Honshu, the island upon which Tokyo is located.  Near the midpoint of our flight, the crew will over a sandwich and ice cream service with beverages and, shortly before landing in Japan, another hot meal, a brunch, and final beverage.

I normally have NO problem filling time and space with words.  Today, you may be relieved to learn, will likely be an exception!  This former "Continental" Boeing 777-200ER offers hours and hours of individually-controlled seatback video programming in addition to the AIRSHOW, to which I keep referring.  Undoubtedly, I will spend some of my "free" time today engrossed in such mindlessness, noise-cancelling headphones assuring that I am undisturbed by others, even in such unnatural proximity.  (I purposefully haven't indulged as yet because I am annoyed by just how effective the noise-cancelling headphones are when I'm a working crewmember and attempt to interact with those who are blissfully unaware.)  Even with my poor hearing, I want to at least be unencumbered when someone attempts to interact with me.

I can't help noticing that in the EconomyPlus section of the cabin, a substantial number of our customers are wearing headphones of the "BOSE" variety; expensive and effective.  Of course, there's quite a lot to be said about effective noise reduction.  DISCOVER magazine published a fascinating article about the fatigue-inducing and -perpetuating effects of constant noise.  Noise is often overlooked for the degree to which it contributes to fatigue and stress, especially in travel.  I'm quite conscious of it at this moment as the low-frequency droning of the engines is superseded only by the high-pitched "ringing" in my ears (tinitis) that I've suffered for the last 15-20 years, no doubt, a by-product of my vocation.

Hours drag....

With less than 500 miles to go, the crew turns up the cabin lights for the pre-arrival brunch service.  In the interim, I have screened 4 feature-length films, 2 recent releases and 2 classics, along with 2 vintage episodes of SEX AND THE CITY.  My ears are aching from the noise-reduction earbuds I've been using, my right foot is aching where I fractured a metatarsal a few years back, and both legs have a general "numb" feeling which I suspect is the result of extended sitting compressing my lower spine (my theory based on nothing but my opinion.)  As with the mid-flight sandwich and ice cream, I decline the food offered in favor of 1/2 a 12" subway sandwich that I bought in Houston which has pretty much surpassed it's "use by" date/time.  As they clear the cabin, the crew offers arrival documents for those remaining in Japan and we receive an update on our ETA from the cockpit as we start the gradual descent from 36,000 feet.

Once the aisle is somewhat clear, I make my 11th and final productive visit to the onboard facility.  I consciously made these visitis at regular intervals, as much for the preservation of the integrity of my lower back as for the other relief provided.  I consumed just over 2 liters of water during the flight:  more than some but much less than some colleagues.  Dehydration, like ambient noise, is the constant nemesis of the 21st century air traveler.  Even the most frequent flyers, those who sport the expensive BOSE noise-cancelling headphones, underestimate the beneficial effects of adequate hydration in flight.  

Dehydration, noise, pressurization and poor ambient oxygen concentration all conspire to overwhelm one's state of well-being on extended flights.  They are supplemented in this battle by high-fat, high-sodium onboard food offerings.  One seldom arrives at his/her destination after a flight of this duration feeling rested, refreshed, or even moderately healthy.

Upon arrival at our Narita layover hotel at around 4pm local time (2am Houston time), a 6 hour nap on my stomach helped to somewhat restore the lordosis I'd sacrificed to my Economy seat.  Philip and I met at the hotel gym at half past midnight for an hour's workout.  We had dinner together (healthy options brought from home) afterward, picnic style.  Now, shortly before 4am local, I'm ready for another nap before working the flight home later this afternoon.

When offered the chance to work a flight of this length or deadhead, I think I'll take the EASY option:  I'll WORK every time!  It's highly likely that the next time I work the Houston-Tokyo trip, I'll be extra sympathetic to the situations of those in my charge.  The crew on today's flight set the bar high, indeed.

Thank you to my colleagues, the Flight Attendants of flight 7 IAHNRT 6APR!

Tuesday, April 1, 2014

21st Century Mom

As I exited the moving sidewalk in Terminal E/IAH today, I glanced up and realized that an "unmanned" pram was careening straight for me. Actually, it wasn't unmanned.  It was being propelled by a little blond person, a female who may have been 3-5 years old.  In my shock, I stopped, seeing that she had her eyes dead on me and would surely avert a collision.  She didn't.  

I can't get past the "vacant" look in her eyes before, during and after our little meeting.  It convinced me that this was the child without consequences who seems to pervade the 21st century.

Expecting that any further interaction with a parent would result in my being the culpable party (WHEN did I become so cynical?), I began to be on my way, hoping to soon forget the incident.  One step and I heard a woman, obviously the mother, shout, "Catherine.  You stop right there."

She didn't say "Tony" but I stopped dead, nonetheless.  Here we go...

"Why did you do that?  You turn around and do the right thing!  Right now!  You apologize to that gentleman. ........" 

The "....." went on for a minute or two but I had already stopped hearing.  I couldn't believe that in our self-focused, age of no consequences that a young parent was actually about to teach an important lesson.  What could I do but help the poor, embarrassed mom, who I now noticed had an even smaller child perched on her hip?  Poor thing, she looked totally overwrought.  So, I turned full-face to my assailant and tried to look as glum and injured as i could without smiling or laughing.  OK, Catheirne.  You're on!

Poor little Catherine, on the verge of tears, sheepishly looked into my eyes and apologized sweetly, so  whole-heartedly.  I smiled and said, "Catherine, you are a very lucky little girl."

Then, I looked at the mom and said, "thank you for renewing my faith in parents."  Looking mystified, Catherine's mom smiled, said "thanks", adjusted Catherine's sibling on her hip and walked away.  

Catherine is a very lucky little girl, indeed.  I hope that the lessons her wonderful, hapless mom teach are richly rewarded.

The rest of us will certainly be the beneficiaries.