Flight attendants are not what they used to be. A dangerous combination of “clinically depressed” and “pathologically angry” most flight attendants apparently hate their job, their passengers and their life; raw meat is flung at zoo animals with more grace than you see when a flight attendant throws bags of peanuts at the huddled masses in Coach.
A flight attendant is supposed to provide security and comfort, but I’ve seen them ignore behaviors that may well threaten my security and absolutely affect my comfort. I saw a flight attendant keep walking while a woman was applying nail polish. Another said nothing when a woman changed her baby’s very messy diaper on the tray table. A third never paused even though the man next to me was flossing. Is it a wonder that my in-flight expectations are low?
But Darla, a flight attendant on a recent flight to Detroit, was like a jolt of pure oxygen. She was middle-aged, stout and stern, and she did not put up with any nonsense on her flight. For example, while we were boarding, Darla made an announcement: “We’re on a schedule, people. Get those bags overhead as fast as you can. If you can’t lift your own bag don’t expect me to do it for you.” I was instantly smitten.
As we were taxiing out Darla came back on the PA. “I’m not telling you people again to turn off your cell phones,” she said. “What part of “off” do you not understand?”
Darla marched down the aisle searching for miscreants. She stopped next to the man across the aisle who was still talking on his phone. She stood arms folded, until he reluctantly ended the call, but as soon as she walked off he started to dial again. Darla was back in a flash. “Is that the new I-phone?” she asked pleasantly. “I’ve never seen one. Can I take a look?”
Beaming, the guy handed her his phone. She turned it off and put it in her pocket. “You’ll get it back in Detroit,” she snapped. He started to protest but she cut him off. “One more word and we’ll take this plane right back to the gate and you can complain all you want to the Federal Marshals who will arrest you for interfering with my in-flight duties.” The man scowled but did not say another word.
In the rear of the cabin a Society Lady had a little dog who was yapping persistently. Darla stopped and fixed her with a cold eye. “I’m not listening to that all the way to Detroit,” she said. “Keep her quiet or she can travel in the cargo hold.”
Society Lady was appalled. “Precious would be terrified down there,” she said.
“You’re welcome to keep her company,” said Darla.
Making her rounds Darla next spotted a small boy who would not sit down for takeoff. “What’s your name, Boy?” she asked. He told her.
“Well, Taylor,” said Darla severely, “if you don’t sit down I’ll tell the Captain and he’ll tie you onto the wing for the flight. Don’t think he won’t.” Taylor, terrified, sat right down, lower lip trembling. Darla looked at the boy’s mother. “In my day a good smack across the bottom would have done the trick,” said Darla, although I’m not sure whose bottom she was referring to, the kid’s or his mother’s.
“I’m writing a letter to report you!” said the mother.
Darla laughed out loud. “Spell the name right,” she said. “It’s D-A-R-L-A.” She pointed her finger at the woman. “But for every letter of complaint Delta gets about me they get six compliments. So knock yourself out.”