An Olympic Adventure

The people and “climate” of Brazil have always been warm and welcoming, never moreso than during the past few weeks when they’ve hosted South America’s first-ever Olympic Games.  It’s the (seemingly) gratuitously bureaucratic side of the place that can bring any great plan to a screeching halt.

My Flight Attendant crew and I deadheaded (rode as passengers) into position from Houston to Sao Paulo overnight arriving in the early hours of the 21st.  I particularly looked forward to meeting new colleagues from the “other side” of our companies' merger of almost 6 years (yet still flying separately as distinct, pre-merger groups), having a chance to chat and to see for myself, to prove to myself that we really aren’t that different, after all.  We deadheaders were greeted at the gate and invited to come onboard to get settled by the working Purser and several other members of the cabin crew.  In aviation, routes, seniority and available flying are everything.  Though the Houston/Sao Paulo route is one that has gone back and forth between pre-merger subsidiary groups repeatedly, there was no rancor between us, the smiles were genuine, as seemed the feeling behind them.  Maybe everyone was on his/her “party manners”.  That's not so uncommon at a first meeting.

Once in GRU (Sao Paulo), my charter crew was set to meet at 1245 the next day for our bus ride back to the airport.  From our layover hotel in the financial center of this enormous city, a trip to the airport can be quite an odyssey.  With that in mind, we were all assembled there on time.  But our bus wasn't.  At “go” time, a hotel representative informed our ISM (onboard leader, equivalent to a Purser) that the bus would arrive closer to 1305, due to a miscommunication.  That time slid closer to 1315.  Our scheduled ferry flight to Rio (we would operate the airplane without passengers to get into position for our charter) was to leave GRU at 1500.  It was a relief to find that the midday traffic was lighter than usual.  We arrived with an hour to spare....or so we thought.

Our normally scheduled flight departures leave from Terminal 3 which is used for substantially all international operations.  We passed through Terminal 3 security and approached the Immigration control kiosks.  There was some question about our status as we were not, strictly leaving Brazil right away.  Should we retain our landing cards (normally surrendered at departure) and keep our passports unstamped, in the event something should occur that would prevent us from leaving Brazil as scheduled that night?

The question drew conflicting answers.  Kiosk officers consulted their superiors, our GRU station manager, Ichida-san was summoned, and telephone calls were made.  Prior arrangements had been made for us to formally “exit” at this point, since we planned to leave Brazil immediately upon our return to GRU with the Olympians.  But there was a new "Chief of Police" (Ichida-san's term) on duty today and he thought otherwise.  By his directive, we were told to leave Terminal 3, walk a fair distance to Terminal 2, enter the sterile area there as domestic crew and then be bused to our waiting aircraft on a hardstand (airstairs rather than jetbridge) back at T3!

While attempting to do execute that new plan, we encountered misunderstanding-related problems at T2 security, then at the hardstand transportation area.  I reminded Ichida-san that a similar trip was happening in September for the Para-Olympics.  He said that his staff had gone to great pains to clear all arrangements for this very special trip and thought that they had matters well in hand.  It seems it was the willfulness of a local bureaucrat that had changed the plan.

When we arrived at our aircraft (767-400), we were surprised that our Flight Deck Crew was onboard, having SUCCESSFULLY entered the sterile area as normal, via Terminal 3, surrendering their landing cards and having their passports stamped.  Without the assistance of our 3 Portuguese speakers to bridge the language gap, they had accomplished what we could not.  (There's a great deal of kismet involved in successfully planning and executing anything "outside the norm" in Brazil, in my estimation.)

As late as the departure of our ferry flight from GRU to GIG, none of our 39 BusinessFirst (premium cabin) seats had been assigned, yet our economy cabin was near fully-booked.  We expected that VIPs would receive upgrades from Economy, at some point.  We learned what that point would be in flight!

About halfway from GRU to Rio de Janeiro (GIG), a total of 38 minutes, we discovered that all 39 seats would now be occupied by special customers upgraded from Economy.  Accessing the onboard wifi, we used our LINK (an iPhone 6Plus that serves as manual, onboard sales tool, and universal "connected" resource) to verify this information.  We took advantage of the resources available onboard (the LINK, wifi and paper) to put together a seating chart and learned that we would indeed be serving 20 US Olympic Gold medalists, 4 Silver medalists and 11 Bronze medalists.   Several weeks ago, upon learning that this flight would be a quasi-Olympic charter, I did some prep work.  I gathered a passenger manifest and created a spreadhsheet in the configuration of our aircraft cabin.  I plugged in each passenger, by seat assignment, then added his/her Olympic sport or affiliation.  As the games progressed, I updated the data with medals won by individuals and teams.  At this juncture, it was just a matter of getting the right passenger in the corrected seat.

We were so excited.  But our excitement was tempered by the practical:  the GRU station had catered the premium cabin for 27 and told us to only expect 15 occupants.  Now there would be 39!  "Folks, it's loaves and fishes time!"

Upon our arrival, the GIG station did a cabin security sweep and we prepared for boarding.  In spite of the short flight time back to GRU, we intended to give our special guests the full Businessfirst treatement, including a pre-departure beverage service. We knew that we would be boarding through 1L (forward-most left door), funneling everyone through the galley where we’d be working to serve those pre-departure beverages.  What an opportunity to meet the people we'd spent 2 weeks watching compete on the world stage...but we'd be busy.  I remembered my friend Christi telling me about an iWatch feature that allows you to control your iPhone camera remotely.  So, I set my phone up with the camera app open, perched atop a tissue box in a corner of the galley and chose the correct app on my watch.  No matter what I was doing, I could monitor the traffic flow on the watchface and “snap” photos remotely as our athletes passed through.

As the boarding flow slowed to a trickle, our ISM announced that we all  (Flgiht Attendants) needed to bring our passports to the boarding door.  Authorities were insisting that our departure from Brazil be processed before we left GIG to return to GRU.  (They said that we SHOULD have cleared immigration formalities before leaving GRU.  Ironic, huh?)   Their insistence drove a half-hour delay which made some of our guests anxious about their onward connections, all on other flights of my airline-employer from GRU.  Delays provoke anxiety.  One way we thought ofcalming that anxiety was to involve our guests in OUR excitement at having them onboard.

That’s how the idea for the Medal Panorama camera shot was born!

“Would the medalists seated in A-zone mind retrieving their medals so that we can take a “class picture”?  We’ll be happy to email it to anyone who wants it…it’s bound to be a keepsake moment!”  It was a welcome distraction from an uncontrollable miscommunication.  Everyone happily obliged.

Did you know that you have to be perfectly still to get a good panorama shot?!  I didn’t!  But THEY did!  As I started the left-to-right sweep of my phone, I heard someone calling down a seat mate, “Be still or it won’t come out!”  Such a special moment!

The brief flight and abbreviated service went smoothly.  Several of our stars said they were surprised to be treated to BusinessFirst…they never expected it.  And me?  I’m simply blown away by the grace and poise of our Olympic royalty.  What an unexpected, irreplaceable experience that 40 minutes was for me, personally.

We landed in GRU and all dispersed to our onward flights for the journey back to the USA.  Several of our Olympic guests came with my crew tonight to Houston…as did the wonderful working colleagues who brought my crew down 2 nights ago.  Having those folks welcome us who knew what we’d done today eased the way to sharing the experience and excitement with them.  Carmen, Christie, Neil, Sue, Nolan, Janet, Kim and Jesus felt like welcoming family, anxious to see us and to hear our news of the day.

I was briefly in the company of 35 medalists; a DREAM come true for a devote of all things Olympic, like me!  I made the acquaintance and formed fast friendships with 8 of my new colleagues in the process.  In a 32 year flying career, today was a standout day for me, an adventure of Olympic proportion.

Credit where credit is due!

Big SHOUTOUT to our Santiago flight kitchen!

We had only 9 customers in B Zone on 846 departing Santiago de Chile night before last, so I "floated" to Economy Class to lend a hand.  After the service, I sat down with an Economy meal before my break started.  Tray, utensils, plasticware, it all looked the same as "normal" but...

The couscous salad was BRILLIANT!  Fresh, subtle flavors with just a suggestion of pungent onion and pepper.  I haven't enjoyed couscous since my days in the Latin Quarter as a poor college student and NEVER did I enjoy it unheated.

The chicken entree was a Mediterranean preparation of white meat chicken with tomato-based sauce, black olives, capers, and a smattering of goat cheese.  It was FRESHLY PREPARED!  The clincher on this dish was that I found a whole bay leaf in mine.  A bay leaf...whole...in an Economy meal.

The quality of the salad and main more than made up for the choco-flavored (read fake) Cool Whip desert which looked much nicer than it tasted.  The "mousse" was underwhelming and left a "synthetic" aftertaste.  I stopped after one spoonful and am regretting that one.

Overall though, GREAT JOB!

(I wish I'd had my phone in my pocket for a quick photo of the bay leaf.  I'm almost doubting my memory of it!)

Ku'u home

Yesterday, after morning traffic had dissipated somewhat, my mom drove into town for an overnight visit.  Our plan was to spend the afternoon with my widowed aunt and and her daughters at Northside Hospital's Cancer Center.  My aunt was recently diagnosed with inoperable pancreatic cancer and was to have a procedure to stint a biliary duct that had been blocked by the growth of a cancerous lesion.

As Mom, Philip and I had a light lunch, we were mindful of the fact that my aunt has been unable to eat meaningfully for months.  She has been so wrapped up in the care of her second husband (my uncle died some years ago), that her own health has suffered without remark, with hardly even any notice.  If it weren't for the unusual metallic taste in her mouth and the recent yellowing of her skin, we might still think that Aunt Laura "just wasn't eating right".  The fact is, she's hardly eaten at all and her body is noticeably wasted.

To myself, I wonder, "What is the point of sitting with the girls during the procedure?"  But the answer is self-evident.  It's a demonstration of love and care.  It's a repayment of the kindnesses we received when Dad was in decline.  It's a distraction from the galvanizing fact that a life we value is about to end.

In a pre-operative appointment, the physician was hopeful that the stint could be placed endoscopically, a quick, efficient procedure from which Aunt Laura could quickly recuperate.  Once the duct was open, many of her symptoms would be alleviated.  The tumor would still be present.  The prognosis would still be grim but she would gain some immediate, day-to-day relief.  Most importantly, she would have a bit more time free from disease-related stress to plan and make decisions. If the endoscopic procedure didn't go well, they would place the stint via an open procedure, meaning longer recovery and increased likelihood of complications.

The girls, daughters, daughter-in-law and granddaughter were gathered in support of their mom.  A quick pre-op visit revealed that Aunt Laura was at peace.  Just the day before, she had secured a supportive accommodation for her husband who suffers from age-related memory issues.  Were she able to join him there, the facility would welcome her in an apartment-like setting with her husband.  So many concerns were addressed with that one decision and commitment.  But the one that mattered most and most immediately was never at issue:  Aunt Laura was at peace with the idea that her time on Earth was nearly done; she was confident in her physician and reliant upon the Physician.  Her composure must surely have been a gift to the girls.  It was to me.

As her procedure began, we sat together in the surgical waiting room, engaged in the idle prattle of the concerned, a thin guise for the fear and uncertainty that prevailed.  We reminisced, smiled, laughed and supported those we love with the good-intentioned distractions that serve so well.  After an hour or so, we learned that the procedure had gone as planned and that Aunt Laura would be free to go home in another hour, or so.  This hurdle had been cleared handily.  There would be time and relief now to prepare for the next hurdle and for the end of the race.

When Mom and I returned to the apartment, an appetite-stimulating aroma wafted out as the door opened. Philip had been busy doing his part to support the cause, preparing his Aunt Anne's Butter Chicken, jasmine brown rice and broccoli for our dinner, left warming on the stove until he returned from afternoon yoga. Mom and I shared some wine while waiting. By the time he got back, we were ready to be comforted by Philip's culinary expression of love and support.  Dinner was the perfect period at the end of a lovingly-written sentence. 

In retrospect, what Mom, Philip and I did was so little.  In reality, what we did was very nearly all that matters in life.

If, in our very "busy" lives we can't take time to help our fellow travelers along their path, what, exactly, are we here for?  We concern ourselves with so much that, in the end, is of little real consequence.  Why is that?  To distract ourselves from our own mortality?

"Denial is not just a river in Egypt."

To be continued...(thank God!)

Epilogue: Surprise & Delight

We learned as we gathered at the gate that a significant storm system was moving into the Chicago area and could result in delays at O'Hare.  The captain seemed to think that we would still have a window of opportunity to operate our flight at near the scheduled times.  We boarded our completely full aircraft and departed, as normal.

As we taxied toward the departure runway, I thought it odd that we made a left turn, crossing the active departure runway, onto the taxiway between arrivals and departures.  The sound of the #1 engine spooling down as it does upon gate arrival confirmed my suspicions.  We were being sent to the "penalty box".  A ground stop had been declared at O'Hare and our departure would be delayed indefinitely.  The captain did an admirable job of explaining our situation, adding that he would give us periodic updates.  The flight attendants immediately offered water to customers parched by the mid-summer heat and understandably anxious from the news.  Just their presence in the cabin calmed things, I think.

Updates came but they didn't hold much good news or much promise that good news would be forthcoming.  The captain's calm, professional delivery kept anxieties to a minimum.  As we approached the hour mark, the cabin crew offered snacks and a mix of soft drinks.  Unhurried and friendly, the atmosphere remained calm. The gentlemen behind me actually joked about missing their connecting flights.

At near the 2 hour mark, the Captain's news was decidedly not good.  We had been given a takeoff slot hours in the future and the crew would reach their FAA-mandated maximum duty period constraints long before then.  They were making a last-ditch appeal to Air Traffic Control via our dispatchers in Chicago to advance our place in line.  But it was clear that he wasn't hopeful.

A collective moan rose in the cabin.  The cancellation of a full flight between the nation's two largest air hubs sounded like disaster because it certainly would be for those affected.

Without warning, I began to simultaneously hear and feel a rumble from the left hand side of the plane (I'm sitting in the window seat at the left emergency exit). I recognized the familiar engine start as soon as it began.  Seconds later, "Ladies and gentlemen, we were successful!  ATC has moved us to the front of the line. If we leave right way, we're going to Chicago.  Everyone take your seats as quickly as you can."

Folks were seated and the flight attendants had the cabin cleared of service articles as quickly as I've ever seen it done.

"Flight Attendants, please be seated for departure."  The guys behind me laughed, "I don't think they needed to be told!"  No, they didn't.

At present, we're flying a strange arc out to the west of Chicago in order to circumnavigate and come in behind what the captain described as a Level 4 storm, "the kind that can uproot trees."  Fine with me!  I don't hear any arguments from the Type-As seated all around me, either!

And, if anything, I'm prouder of my airline-employer's performance today than I was earlier, in spite of our 2-hour plus arrival delay.  Anyone should be able to do a good job under perfect circumstances (we weren't able to do even that for a while, sadly). 

It's a customer-pleasing, expectation exceeding performance under uncontrollable circumstances that separates the truly good from the merely passable.  I used to work for the truly good.  I'm excited to think that I may have that opportunity again before I retire.

I have a really, really, REALLY good feeling about that.

P.S.  As I exited the airplane and stepped onto the jet bridge, I overheard a woman behind me say, "They did a really good job!"

Yes, they did. 

Surprise and Delight

Few things excite me like making a real-world report as a surprised and delighted customer of my airline-employer. I'm traveling Atlanta/Chicago today at 1701, prime time. 

I arrived at the airport via train at 1535. Upon checking, I learn that my flight is departing on-time.  Checking a little deeper, I learn that the aircraft for my flight will be arriving early from ChIcago. 

I stop into the Club, upstairs, near gate 10.  As soon as the elevator doors opened, I noticed it.  I knew in an instant that the sophisticated, modern, attractive yet subtle aroma I smelled had to be the much-hyped "Landing",  my airline's soon-to-be signature fragrance. To confirm my suspicions, I asked the smiling agent who greeted me. 

"Yes, it is!  I'm can't believe how many people have remarked upon it."

As I moved into the club area with food and drink, I wondered if it might be too much, if "Landing" might not mix well with eau de red pepper & Gouda soup. But the transition was actually pleasant. 

As I write this, I'm enjoying a crisp, refreshing glass of nicely chilled prosecco.  Muted conversations all around me and the occasional laugh reveal calm, relaxed customer experiences; the sounds of the anxiety-free. 

And I'm thinking, "Now, this is the way an experience with My company

should feel, taste, look, smell and sound."  There's nowhere I'd rather be today. 

I'd love to share that experience with you. I hope I did.

Unanswered Prayers

When we received the text from our son, Joaquin, a few weeks ago, Philip and I didn't quite know what to make of it.  He wants to be a Flight Attendant?  a Flight Attendant for our airline-employer?

WTH?

For several years now, Joaquin has been building his life in sunny southern California, working in real estate.  He just earned his real estate license and is the Transaction Coordinator at a well-known brokerage in Los Angeles.  He’s been making steady advances, earned well-deserved recognition and seems as content as we’ve ever seen him since he arrived there.  “Restless”, while it applies to many a young adult seems particularly appropriate for our favorite young man.

But we learned long ago to allow nature to take its course where Joaquin is concerned.  Rather than questioning this new direction, Philip took the lead and I followed in asking how we might support him on the venture.  We provided internal referrals, of course, and placed letters of recommendation in his hand when he flew to Houston last week for his final interview (not that he needed our support.  Joaquin has always been a most persuasive individual.)

Not unexpectedly, he was offered the job!  His F/A Training class has a June 21st start date.  So why aren’t we celebrating?

After much back-and-forth, should-I-or-shouldn’t-I, factual comparisons and the gut check that is a rite of passage for many his age, Joaquin has decided to focus on his career in real estate.  Are Philip and I disappointed?  Yes.  

And no.

There would be no greater honor, no greater validation of the life we’ve built together, than for Philip and me to have the privilege of pinning "our wings" on "our boy."  That moment would be indescribable, really.  But now that we have that rather selfish thought out of the way, we’re so grateful to know that we have instilled in Joaquin the wherewithal to make his own decisions in a logical, rational, methodical fashion; to do what’s right for him.

In a way, his having thought to pursue our way of life is validation enough.  Our way of life created so many opportunities for a young man in need of a break in his life.

One way or the other, we know that our li'l Homey will fly.

Where were you in '62?

May 10, 1962

I tend to personalize important dates to help put them into context. Perhaps you do too?

Fifty-four years ago today, I was a diaper-wearing toddler and John F. Kennedy, Jr. showed great promise as our youngest-ever American president. (His son, John-John and I were the same age). America was the undisputed leader of the free world and the Iron Curtain was a de facto divider of good and evil.  My family and I were eagerly awaiting the arrival of a new baby (May 28th, my now 54 year-old brother.)

American aviation was as diverse as it would ever be with players in every niche, ginormous to decidedly local. One of those players was Trans Texas Airlines who was growing and hiring hostesses to support that growth. 

Gaye Burns flew from Shreveport to Houston for an interview (with a change of planes in Magnolia, Arkansas). She left her 4-year career as a long-distance telephone operator and took to the sky in the venerable DC3. What a life-changing decision she made!

A few years later, TTA started flying to Mexico and changed its name to Texas International. In the early 1980s, TI merged with Continental. 

Now Gaye regularly flies to Germany with one of the largest airlines in the world. It's my good fortune to be flying with her in this, her anniversary month. 

"Hi!  I'm Gaye", delivered with such energy and exuberance  (and double entendre) that you're certain you've just met a force of nature!  (You have.)

And her customer "thank you and good-byes" are another unique Gaye signature, "Thank you for spending the night with us!"

Gaye is, I dare say, unforgettable.

Congratulations to our friend and colleague, Gaye Burns McFarland and many happy returns of the day!

We are so much better because you are here!