Airline Grooming Policies

When the show Pan Am came out (sadly it has now been cancelled) I noticed a flurry of comments and opinions on airline grooming standards.  Many seemed to find the way in which the flight attendants in the show were expected to adhere to strict policies surprising, and some thought that such a thing would never happen today.  Well... I can say that The Airline has never made me get one a scales, thank goodness (although I know other airlines that do include regular weighing schedules for their flight attendants).  However, while things are perhaps slightly more lenient these days, my grooming manual is still twelve pages long.  And I work for a relatively relaxed airline.

Out of interest, I thought I would share a few choice excerpts from the manual, including instructions on uniform and on appropriate self-conduct.

• You shall be aware of the impact that you have on the public when wearing the company uniform.
• You shall present an image of self-awareness and self-care with a professional look.
• Personal variations or individual additions to the uniform are prohibited.
• You shall carry a sewing kit at all times in order to ensure the uniform is in good repair.  (Personally I am not a huge fan of being instructed to carry a sewing kit.  While I see the sense in it, I feel like my next order would be to make a damned sandwich.)
• The uniform shall appear freshly cleaned and pressed at all times.  (Fair enough, but then the material it's made of means that the second you sit down the whole thing creases to hell anyway.)
• Good posture and carriage shall be maintained at all times.  (You try having good posture on the way back to the hotel after a red-eye then...)
• Gum chewing in not acceptable at any time while in uniform. (The only bit that is bolded in the whole manual...which I find rather odd considering the following instruction prohibits consuming alcohol or going to a bar at any time in uniform...makes you wonder where the priorities lie....)
• Re-application of makeup, or styling of hair, shall not be done in public view.  (Yes, this prohibits me from putting on lipstick in a public washroom...who the hell cares?)
• When eating in uniform and in view of public, Flight Attendants shall be seated. (... seriously?)
• Flight Attendants are required to conduct themselves in a mature and responsible manner in all dealings with the Company.  (This one actually makes me LOL)...
• Conversation in the presence of customers shall give the impression that the Company is a professional and efficient organization of courteous and friendly employees.  \
• Skirts may not be hemmed any shorter than 1" above the knee.
• Hair shall be clean, neat, and dry and worn so as not to fall into your face ... Hair colouring should be well maintained (translation: No roots!)  ...trendy styles are unacceptable.  When tied back, hair shall not fall below the shoulder blades at the back (So if you've got super long hair, it's a nun-bun or the chop).
• (Here comes my favourite... make up!)  The intent of cosmetics to improve one's appearance in the airline industry is to support an image of alertness and confidence which is important to passenger safety perceptions (There you have it, folks.  We are so concerned with your safety, even our MAKE UP is in on the game).  Moisturizer and foundation shall be applied prior to makeup application to help combat cabin dryness (The moisturizer, yes, but the foundation? Hells no). ....Heavy dark makeup is not permitted. (I used to be a huge fan of green eye make up on the red-eyes...because literally red eyes are not attractive and the green toned it down a bit.  Only with cool flight directors, though).
• As a flight attendant, your hands may be seen by your passengers as often as your face.  Nails shall be well groomed and manicured at all times. (I got told off on a few occasions because I'm not really the get-a-manicure kind of girl.  Apparently having bare nails looks "cheap".  I had to bite my tongue not to reply that the lipstick on the accuser's teeth also looked cheap.)
• Contact lenses are preferred to glasses... Sunglasses are not to be work in terminal buildings, hotels, on the aircraft or anywhere you may be in contact with passengers.  ...They may never be pushed up on top of the head.
• ...all footwear must be approved by in-flight services.
• Pearl or diamond stud earrings may be worn, provided they are are in good taste (How exactly does one find pearl or diamond studs that aren't in good taste?)
• It is not permitted to wear a necklace at anytime (Absolutely NO ONE adheres to this rule).

AS FOR THE BOYS (yep, they have grooming rules too, although perhaps more relaxed than the ladies...)

• Hair shall not fall forward and shall not conceal the top of your ears and appear unkempt.  The back of hair shall not touch the top of the collar, but not to be so short as to show scalp....Hair shall be kept clean, neat, dandruff free and conditioned regularly.  (The dandruff bit is another LOL).
• Sideburns shall be no longer than mid-ear level...they shall be trimmed frequently to avoid the appearance of being bushy.  Moustaches shall not extend below the corner of the mouth.  The upper lip shall be visible and false, waxed or curled moustaches are not permitted.  Full beards are not permitted.

So there you have it, choice excerpts from the Grooming Standards of The Airline.  And I even cut out the boring bits!  And, so you have a visual, here's me in my uniform last year.  This was a skinnier time, so the uniform got a little loose.  Also, please ignore the fact that it's a lame "take a picture in the mirror" kind of shot. 

 

The Flight Attendant's ABCs - F (foxtrot) is for...

• Ferry Flight - One of the most exciting things for an FA to see on the schedule.  A ferry flight is basically a flight which serves to position the airplane from one place to another...WITHOUT PASSENGERS.  It's like free money.  You get paid to sit on a plane for however long, and do whatever you feel like.  Some particularly mean Flight Directors (see below) may make you work during this time, cleaning the aircraft and such, but for the most part it is widely understood that this time can be reserved for sleeping, reading, or other general relaxation activities.  I personally enjoy to spend the whole time in the flight deck, picking up tidbits of information and storing them away for future use.
  
• Final Approach - A time during which the aircraft is lined up with the runway and about to land.  It's a time during which everyone is supposed to be seated with their seat-belts secure.  Flight attendants included.  So don't get mad if you're ringing the call button and we don't magically materialize at your side.  And no, it's probably not the best time for you to get your bag out of the overhead bin, either. :)
  
• Flight Director - (also known as In-Flight Director, Purser, etc).  The lead flight attendant on any flight.  Apparently someone has to be in charge, and since the Pilots are locked away in the flight deck, one flight attendant takes charge of the rest of the cabin crew.  Some are wonderful and friendly and have a decent work ethic, and so your flight will be relaxed with a good "team spirit".  Other Flight Directors....well let's just say that they are type who will write you up for wearing more than one ring on each hand or not having lipstick on.  In most cases I often find that the Flight Director sets the tone for the whole trip.
  
• Flight Attendant - 

Next time... G (golf) is for... 

"but it wouldn't be nothing without a woman or a girl..."

What do you do if you're interested in something?
Google.
I'm a huge fan of doing random Google Image searches.  So while I was contemplating this post, I thought I'd do a search for "female pilot".

One of the first few pictures I found was this beauty:

This picture is now my desktop background, and I wish I could find a print of it and get it framed and stuck on my wall.  I then scrolled down the page a little way and found this gem...

Sigh.  This is the sort of thing that makes me want to bang my head against a wall.  I suppose it's no worse than all of the ridiculous female driver jokes, but it really fits what seems to be my theme of the week.  Females in aviation who aren't flight attendants are pretty thin on the ground and thin in the air.  In my class at the college there are two girls, and that's a big number, considering one of the previous classes had almost thirty students and only one girl.

The OFC has always been very welcoming to me, and for the most part it certainly seems like women are accepted.  The comfortable atmosphere and general friendliness is something I love most about my flying club.  I have endured a bit of good-natured teasing from my classmates which is, for the most part, no big deal.  However, I have also encountered some more surprising and backwards attitudes.  For example; on our first day of classes one other student told me that every time I fly I could stick a pink star on the tail of the plane, and then in the same conversation asked me to hem his pants.  Not too bad at all really, mostly just the kind of thing you roll your eyes at and laugh a bit.  Perhaps suggest it was time for the mama's boy to cut the apron strings.  But then I've also had few sincere "What, you train here?!" comments followed by considerable laughter, AND have been told by another student that he would be nice to me when he was the Captain and I was still the flight attendant.  

I had a discussion with another student a week or so on the subject of families.  The student was surprised to learn that I hope to have a family one day, but continue to be a pilot.  I'm not sure if he thought I intended this to be a hobby or not, but he seemed to think it a tall order to hope that I may one day find a man who would be happy for me to continue in my dream career, despite having the family I also hope for.  However when I turned the question on him, he didn't seem to find it at all strange that he should one day have a wife to stay at home with his children while he travels the world.

Many things are noticeably geared towards men.  Like our uniforms, for example.  I bought a selection of the "ladies" size of the shirts, and they STILL made me look like I was wearing a sack.  I had to have them taken in so I wouldn't look quite so ridiculous. 

Every so often, even the Instructors will drop in the odd boys club kind of joke.  Not two days ago we were learning about the VOR in ground school and the instructor presented us with a mnemonic.  "TICS".  It stands for "Tune in the VOR code, Identify the morse code, Check the VOR, and Select a heading.".

'Except I use test instead of check,' said the instructor.  "Haha, see what I did there?"

My response was to start singing the chorus of "It's a Man's Man's Man's World", which had been stuck in my head and seemed fitting.

Things like that aren't necessarily harmful, but they do represent outdated ideals.  I'm not one to go on a crazed feminist rant and denounce men as pigs who just want to keep women down.  I'm a girly girl.  I almost always have my nails painted, I like for my hair to look nice, and My Instructor has laughed at me a million times for forgetting to take out my earrings before putting on my headset.  (I learned my lesson when once in my pre-uniform days I had to ask him to keep my hoops in his pocket because I didn't have anywhere else to put them.  I've now restricted myself to studs on flying days).  

The gist of it is that I can't help but draw attention to my feminine side, and I don't see anything wrong with that.  If I were wimping out about the oil stain on my arm, or complaining about having to refuel my own aircraft then perhaps there would be a problem, but as long as I'm getting on with things, I don't see the issue in having painted nails and the like.  I suppose I could try and be more of a tomboy, cut my hair short and never wear make-up, but I wouldn't be happy, so there's no point.

As I said, I'm no ranting feminist.  I'd much prefer to distract them all with my feminine charms, and then surprise the hell out of them when I do well.  I still remember being told that females in aviation have to be "twice as good to be equal".  And I still have that burning desire to be three times as good to be better.  Eat your heart out, boys.

Now the burning question is, do I buy a pilot headset with pink accents and really add fuel to the fire?

Canada Day in the Sky

Yesterday afternoon one of the pilots from the Algonquin program was kind enough to take me for a flight.  The wind was pretty strong, but I said that a bumpy flight didn't bother me if it didn't bother him, so off we went!  We flew south of the city and followed the highway for a while, and then out into the country towards my house.  I almost didn't see it at first - it was right under the nose of the plane, so it was only when we were right above it that I spotted it.  The pilot circled it a few times, and I took a few photographs.  I could see my Mum and Basil (our beagle) out in the garden, and Mum was waving - she figured out it was me.

It was very interesting.  I have never seen my house from above like that, and it was really nice to see all of the surrounding land.  Although I kind of knew, I had no idea that we lived so far out in the middle of nowhere.  No wonder it takes me 45 minutes to an hour to get into the city!  Fifteen minutes in a Cessna is way better!  Time to build a personal landing strip, I think!

The other thing that surprised me was just how many little aerodromes are out here in the country.  We saw at least four active ones, and one abandoned.  And yet once we got away from the airport traffic, we didn't see another plane until we turned back towards the city and rejoined the circuit.

Since HRM, The Queen is in town, there were restrictions in the NOTAMs.  There was an area around the downtown which was restricted airspace for the day - kind of a shame, as it would have been cool to see some of the Canada Day celebrations from above.  These restrictions stopped us from landing on 22/04, our usual runway, and was hindering the use of 25/07 also, so we ended up landing on 32.  A 10,000ft runway seems a little excessive for a tiny little Cessna really...

All in all it was a lovely afternoon.  Really I don't care where I go, I am just happy to be in the air!

We Could Wait for the Weather to Change, or I Could Stand Here and Pout...

I wrote myself a letter this morning.


Dear Flygirl,

Do try not to have an emotional meltdown on your poor Instructor today.  He’s got the patience of a saint, but really, some chick sobbing with frustration in the plane next to him might prove to be a little much for the poor guy.
Just chill out, you crazy bitch.

Love from,
Your Dignity

Then I got in my car and started driving towards the airport.  Halfway there, the heavens opened and it poured!  I sulked for the rest of the way, pretty sure that my lesson was going to get rained out.  By the time I got there the rain had stopped, but there were still some low clouds.  Sure enough, My Instructor shook his head.  I pouted.

We decided to see if it cleared up a little bit, so My Instructor let me play with the new simulator a little bit.  I've never used a flight simulator before, and it was quite the strange experience.  The graphics are really good so it looks a lot like you are flying, and then you have all the controls, but it just doesn't feel quite the same.  It took a few circuits to get the hang of it, but I especially loved not having to actually go around the circuit in order to do another landing.  I was less enthused about the "birdstrike" though...

After a few simulated circuits, the sky had cleared up enough for a few real ones!  I got my plane and headed out for a walk-around.  All was well, so we hopped in, secured ourselves, and I did my pre-flight checks.  Then I turned the starter key and nothing happened.  I had a bit of panic in my mind.  'Oh my god, how did I mess that up?!  Why do I suck so much?'  Then I thought that I really hadn't messed up, and turned to look enquiringly at My Instructor.  As it turned out, it wasn't my fault.  The starter wasn't engaging for whatever - probably the battery, it was determined.

By the time we had told the maintenance crew about the problem and headed back into the club to write it all up, I was ready to go into full on Pout mode again.  Why was the morning against me?  All I wanted to do was fly!  It was TUESDAY.  That's my day.

Luckily, there were other planes available, so we grabbed one and finally got into the sky.  The second plane (C-GKLN) was slighty different to the usual C-150s we fly in.  It was heavier, and had something going on with the wings which apparently made it more stable - I have completely forgotten what it was called.  Whatever it was, I really liked flying that plane.  Something about it just felt really good.  I'm definitely going to try and nab it again in my future lessons.

I didn't even think about my first landing until I was lined up on the runway.  I think I was too busy trying to deal with the strong cross-wind to allow myself to get too worked up about it.  Next thing I knew I was on the runway, and my landing didn't suck!  For the first time I felt able to say 'Oh, that wasn't too bad actually!'  The next couple were just as good, and my spirits soared!  It finally started to feel a little better.  I am a lot better at landing without flaps, so the next challenge is getting it nice and smooth with flaps.  I rounded out the lesson with two of my worst landings to date, but I'm trying to not think about them, and just focus on the good ones!

After the lesson, I grabbed some lunch and settled myself in the club's lounge, with the intention of studying for my PSTAR.  I did get some work done, but also got a bit of football watching done, and a bit of socializing done, too!  Around 3pm, I found myself tagging along with some of the students from the college program.  They were going to the retirement celebrations of a Nav Canada Pilot.  I heard the phrase "low and over on runway 25" and figured it was worth a look!

It was definitely worth the visit.  The pilot had some rather touching words of wisdom to share with us eager young beginners, and we had the opportunity to watch some planes landing from the aerocentre, which afforded a pretty great view.

There were also a few nice jets parked, and a few other interesting planes landed while we were there.

Afterward, some of the Nav Canada employees were kind enough to show us a couple of their planes - a Dash 8 and an RJ.

While in the RJ, a couple of the students were ooohing and aaahing over all of the numerous gadgets, dials and buttons in the flight deck.  I wandered over to have a look, and found a relatively familiar sight.  It was quite similar to the set-up of our B737s at The Airline, although the RJ appeared to have fewer instruments, and not as much going on in the central console area.  I overheard one of the students say 'Wow, it's not exactly like a Cessna...'

I realised something, then.  Although I'm a real baby in the aviation world, at just over 16 hours, I have been lucky enough to spend quite a bit of time in the flight deck of large passenger jets.  Now I am thinking that my experience as a Flight Attendant might actually benefit me as a Pilot.  Although it's not going to be too helpful in the actual flying of the planes, I have been privileged enough to spend quite a bit of time around large aircraft, and I don't find myself intimidated by them at all.  I did pick up quite a bit of information from the Pilots in my incessant questioning of them, and these gems of knowledge make themselves apparent every now and then.

To round out the excitement of the day, an Air Transat Airbus was doing circuits on runway 25.  Proper circuits - touch and gos, overshoots, the works.  It's quite something to see!  Today really was one of those days that it just felt wonderful to be at the club!

747 Hunting... My Favourite Pastime.

"The natural habitat of the 747 is at large airports with likely 15+ Starbucks' and moving sidewalks. When observing the 747 you should camouflage yourself to blend in with luggage or food crates because the 747 spooks easily. The main predator of the 747 is the small but lethal F22 Raptor. For protection the 747 will often dump everyone's luggage mid flight to distract the F22 Raptor while it escapes into the ash clouds over Iceland." -Harri (aka The Tall Estonian)

I have a thing for the Boeing 747.  It is, hands down, my favourite airplane.  Even the ridiculously large A380 cannot compete with the B747 for my affections.

I had a flight out of YYZ last month, and spent some time roaming around Terminal 3 in the hopes of catching a glimpse of the B747.  Unfortunately, security weren't so keen on my wandering around the international gates.  They sent me packing.  So I sat at my own gate, feeling rather disappointed, until a B747 Cargo taxied right past us!  It was quite far away, but I was still pretty happy to see one - it had been a very long time since I had seen one on the ground.  The other Flight Attendant I dragged around Terminal 3 was somewhat less impressed.

Naturally, a few weeks later one lands in YOW.  I'd had an awful day at work, and took a tour past the airport, and there it was.  An instant mood lifter.  The President of China was visiting, and parked his B747 right outside the airport employee parking lot.  Naturally I didn't have my camera.  The following photographs were taken by Ian McCord, who was kind enough to forward them to me for my blog!

 Ian has an impressive photography collection, primarily related to trains, but he has a good selection of aviation photographs as well.  Some of his pictures can be seen at :
http://s839.photobucket.com/home/OCRR4204/index
http://www.flickr.com/photos/71639059@N00/
http://picasaweb.google.com/ocrr4204


Thanks again for the pictures, Ian!

Vivid Memories

Some moments just stick out in the mind.

On the last flight of our Sun Destination charter in the winter, we ferried the aircraft known (to me) as Lettie down to Cancun to "repatriate" 158 Canadians.  I was sad and stressed out, worried that it was going to be my last flight ever.  Thank goodness it didn't turn out that way, but still, I was a little upset.  The other FAs were using the empty plane to stretch out and sleep.  I chose to stay in the Flight Deck with the boys and enjoy what I thought could be my last trip.  At this point, I still didn't know that I was going to follow my new path towards becoming a pilot, so I was really just enjoying the view and the company.

The Captain was agitated.  It was the day of the gold medal hockey game of the Olympics, and we were officially missing it.  After mumbling and grumbling about it, and using lots of choice curse words, he finally decided to send the First Officer hunting on the AM radio waves to see if we could pick up the game.  Sure enough, some random Mexican station was broadcasting it!  The Captain put it on the speakers in the flight deck so that all three of us could listen in.  There was cheering, there was yelling, and many more curse words.

We almost managed to listen to the entire game, and had it not gone into overtime, it would have been no problem.  But we were almost in Cancun, and the guys had to start our descent.  The Captain schemed; 'Maybe we can do a go-around or something and catch the end of the game before we have to land...' but it was no good, and descend we did.  All was going well, but it was a race against time.  The overtime period began - we listened.  We continued to descend.  The announcer started to sound very excited, this was it, someone was going to the net, something was going to happen, Crosby had the puck.....

We hit 10,000ft and lost the signal.

The resulting screams of 'NOOOOOOOO' brought two of the other FAs to the flight deck looking extremely panicked.  Apparently hearing screams and cries coming from the flight deck isn't so re-assuring.  Who knew?

The second we landed and the engines were shut down, the first thing the Captain did was get out the Blackberry and call head office.
'What happened?!  No, the score!  What do you mean you aren't watching the game, turn the damned TV on and tell me the f***ing score!!!!'

Confidence Issues

I have been working on my Private Pilot's License for just under three months now.  This blows my mind a little bit.  For one thing, I'm working on my Private Pilot's License.  It's not really something I ever expected myself to say.  It's slow going, because I can usually only fly once a week, but I'm doing it.  For another thing, it doesn't seem like only three months.  It feels like three years.  I feel like I have always been doing this, like I have always wanted to and needed to do this.  I've gone through so much in such a short amount of time it's a wonder I haven't short-circuited yet.

Training hasn't been all fun happy times either.  Don't get me wrong, I've loved every second of it so far.  But it's been stressful and emotional for me, and very trying at times.

After the first few lessons, the initial "OMG I'M FLYING AN AIRPLANE" factor started to wear off a little.  In my third lesson I had my first surge of doubt.  All I could think of was how poorly I was doing that day, and felt like I had no place being there and should never be allowed to be a Pilot.   And then just when I was starting to feel comfortable with My Instructor, he announced that he was leaving for a week, and I was going to have to take a lesson with a Substitute Instructor.  This lesson was an utter disaster, or at least I felt it was.  Definitely not the Substitute Instructor's fault, but mostly because of my own nerves.  When My Instructor returned from his trip I practically had to bite my tongue to stop myself from crying out 'never leave me again!!!!'. 

My lessons continued, and I started to get edged out about a couple of upcoming chapters in my flight training manual - Stalls, and Spins.  I quickly overcame the fear of stalls, it wasn't really what I had expected based upon the name, and turned out to be something that, once in the air, I didn't really waste much stress on it.  I just got on with the exercise.

Spins was a whole different story though.  I managed to freak myself out completely by looking them up on youtube weeks before the lesson, and decided that they looked utterly terrifying and I thought I was nuts for getting myself into this.  Then, to make matters worse, My Instructor told me I was going to be going out on that lesson with a Supervisor Instructor.  My brain shut down completely.  I had just begun to feel really good about flying with My Instructor, although briefing was giving me grief - I would get nervous and clam up and feel stupid, and that would hit my confidence a little.  And now I was facing this challenging lesson, and I had to go with an instructor I had never flown with before?  Based upon my performance with the Substitute Instructor some weeks earlier, I felt that this did not bode well for me.  The nerves of performing flight exercises in front of a total stranger, and the added pressure that messing up would not only make me look bad, but would reflect poorly on My Instructor as well, PLUS the nerves of my first spin all added up to make me one frazzled little Flygirl for a week or so.

The day dawned, and I probably didn't sleep as well as I needed to.  I was nervous.  I wasn't scared - in my brain, scared is bad, nervous is good.  Scared makes people run away from the things they fear.  Nerves just gives you a little extra energy with which to face your fears.  But I was nervous.

I expected the lesson to be awful, and then to go back and apologize profusely to My Instructor for making it look like he was a bad teacher, which was absolutely not the case.  But five minutes into the briefing I noticed something strange.  My brain was connected to my mouth.  I was able to adequately display that I understood the material using my words.  Interesting.  New.

Things got better.  We got in the plane and I did the take-off, which the Supervisor said was "perfect".  Score another point for me.  Things just kept going right for me.  I did my radio communications by myself.  I had no trouble keeping the correct altitude.  I rocked stalls.  'Oh, wing drop? No problem, just a little rudder here, and sorted!'  By the time the exercise was over I felt like a rock star.  And then it was time for the dreaded spin.  I don't know if I was more surprised by how slow and serene it felt, or by how much I enjoyed it.  Looking up and seeing the ground 2500ft above your head is not something you generally get to see.  It's quite beautiful.

By the time the Supervisor Instructor and I landed, I was buzzing again.  I felt confident and capable in a brand new way.  But then this new found confidence led to more internal struggle.  Why had I never felt that confident before?  Did I prefer this new instructor?  What was going on?  I didn't think it was really about the instructor, because I had really liked working with My Instructor.  But I couldn't deny the fact that I had been a badass that day, and I needed to know why.  I booked a couple more lessons with the Supervisor Instructor in order to figure things out.

After a couple of lessons, I still felt like a confident, capable student pilot.  I tried another lesson with My Instructor, and it felt about fifteen times better than it had before.  Although My Instructor and I did discuss ways we could kill my nerves in the briefings, I think the huge change in my confidence came from my brain somewhere.  I stopped feeling as though flying was something I would never be able to get the hang of, and just started to focus on doing it.

Now I am working in the circuits and practicing my landings (boy do they need some work...) and still feel really good about it all.  My first solo flight is starting to look like something in the foreseeable future, instead of something that makes me giggle nervously whenever mentioned.  There are still a lot of hurdles before I get to that point though, but onwards and upwards!

The Flight Attendant's ABCs - A (alpha) is for...

The idea of a Flight Attendant’s ABCs came to me on a Red Eye to Punta Cana and back some time in January. Red Eyes can be incredibly dull. Usually you do a drink service, a food service, and by the time you are ready to go back out with the bar cart for the second round, everyone has passed out, leaving you and the other flight attendants with little to do but try to stay awake. I would usually try and keep my brain active in some way - writing song lyrics, playing word games, and, on occasion, being a little creative.

So without further ado, I present the idea that has been nagging my creative muse for 4 months - The Flight Attendant’s ABCs

A (alpha) is for…

• Aircraft - Your aircraft is your home while you are working. It could be big, small, multi-engine, single-engine, brand spanking new or older than you. Some people find themselves becoming very attached to their aircraft, especially if they frequently work on the same one. You learn its quirks, recognize its temper tantrums before they happen, one might give it a nickname, and often an aircrew member will have little ways of expressing how the appreciate their plane. I would always take the chance to pat the nose and say “hello girl” at the start of each day.
  
  
• Apologies - Sometimes it seems as though the motto of a Flight Attendant is “Oh, I’m sorry!” S/he may be stepped on, bumped into, rudely spoken to, run over with a baggage cart, or have luggage dropped on his/her head, and the good Flight Attendant will still apologize as though it was his/her own fault. Gushing head wound as the result of someone’s roller-bag? “Oh dear, I am so sorry!”
  
  
• Amenities Kit - Genius. A pack on the aircraft which contains all manner of things to combat every day cabin mishaps. It may contain items such as Gravol, aspirin, bandages, tissues, safety pins, elastic bands, hand cream, pens, notebooks, the possibilities are endless. The one guarantee is that the item will only be present in the amenities kit when you do not need it. If there is a child vomiting all over the aisle, be assured that you will not find a single Gravol tablet on the aircraft.
  
  
• ATC (Air Traffic Control). Officially these wonderful people watch your airplane on their radar and make sure that you do not fly into any of the other blinking dots with squawk numbers attached. Unofficially, they are incredibly useful for updating you on the score of that hockey game you are missing…

Next time…. B (bravo) is for…

Sitting in the Left Seat

In late March I took the first step in my journey towards becoming a Pilot. I had been driving past the Ottawa Flying Club for weeks. One day I finally went inside. It was actually quite nerve-wracking. I walked in the front door and up to the desk where there were about ten guys milling around. They all stopped and turned to look at me.

‘Um…,’ I said. Think of something cool. PLEASE say something cool. ‘I am interested in Flying Lessons?’ Not exactly cool, but to the point. Oh well.

Brief Silence.

Then a kind looking Man With a Mustache detached himself from the group, and suggested we have a seat in the lounge area. As it turned out, he was the Chief Flying Instructor. I instantly liked him. For some reason I had held this fear that people were going to hear me say “I want to be a pilot” and laugh. He didn’t laugh. He talked to me as though it was a realistic possibility. I was having trouble forming sentences more complex than “I want flying lessons”, I’m assuming because I was in shock and/or awe of what I had just done. My hands were shaking. I had made a pro-active move towards forever changing what I thought my future would be like.

The Man With the Mustache asked me pointed questions until we determined that what I specifically wanted was to get my Commercial Pilot’s license in order to pursue a new career, and that I didn’t want to go through the degree program. We chatted a little until I felt more at ease. I told him about working for The Airline, and how I’d taken to hanging out and watching planes take off and land. Once again I expected laughter, but he actually seemed encouraged by my enthusiasm.

‘Flying is something you have to be passionate about,’ he said. 'You need the enthusiasm to be ale to do it.’

We then took a walk outside to the airside of the club, where he showed me some of the aircraft the club uses. He opened the left-hand side door of a Cessna 150 and invited me to climb in. He gave me a brief overview of the plane, showed me some of the controls, and then we took a quick walk over to the club’s new hangar, before heading back inside to meet a few people, including the scheduler. At this point I realised that I needed to leave or else I was going to be very late for work. I apologised, and the Man With the Mustache gave me some leaflets and cards with information, and suggested that before I sign up for lessons, I take an introductory lesson, just to get the feel of things and see if I thought I really wanted to do it.

I left the flying club, got in my car and drove to work, where I spent four hours serving people food and absolutely buzzing with excited thoughts. I could do it. I could become a pilot! Somehow, having been to the club and talking to someone about it realistically, instead of just thinking about it as something I might do, it had become a reality.

I had expected to take more time to think about it, but to be honest I think I knew the second I sat in that little Cessna 150 that I wanted to do it. I was encouraged to see that the Cessna had significantly fewer controls and dials than a Boeing-737, which I was used to from working for The Airline. It made me feel rather less intimidated. And sitting on the left side seat was intoxicating. I remember one day in Initial Training for The Airline, one of the trainers went on a mini rant at us. She was talking about procedures for visiting the Flight Deck at the time.

‘Don’t you dare sit in the Pilot’s seats, she said. ‘Don’t even think about it. You haven’t earned it, you have no right to it whatsoever. Even if the Pilots offer, do not sit in that seat.’ Well… talk about putting the fear of God into someone, but for me at least, it stuck. And yet, there I was sitting in the left side seat of a real aircraft.

I went back the next day and booked my introductory flight. I knew already that I was going to take lessons, but I figured I may as well just do the introductory lesson so as to give myself an idea of what I was getting myself into.

It was scheduled for 5:00 after I finished working at The Restaurant on a Saturday. I had no idea how I was going to get through that day.

The Hook

In November 2009 I somehow found myself in ground school. I had been hired as a flight attendant. I’m not sure how it happened. I had no real qualifications for the job. I didn’t even know I really wanted the job until after the interview. And then I really wanted it. And when I knew I had the job I was afraid I would fail the medical due to a recent surgery. But everything seemed to work out, and the next thing I knew I was training to be a flight attendant and being introduced to this fascinating but intimidating new world.

I realised one day, while my instructor was talking about 727s and 737s that I had absolutely no idea what the difference between the two were. Was one larger? Did one have more engines? Why was one in use and the other no longer?
‘Wow,’ I said to myself. ‘I’m in way over my head here’.

It didn’t help that there were three girls in the course who had been flight attendants before, and seemed desperate to exhibit their knowledge before the rest of us newbies, and scramble for the instructor’s attention. Usually I would just keep my head down and let the others answer questions, but now I found myself embarrassed to not know things. I did what any self-respecting university graduate would have done. I went to Wikipedia.

That night I was up hours past when I should have been, considering I had firefighting training in the morning – something, I assumed, I should be well rested and prepared for. I started with a basic search. “Boeing 727”. That led to “Boeing 737” and all the way up to “Boeing 787”, which was still being tested at the time. My next question was along the lines of “So what’s the difference between a Boeing and an Airbus then?”, which led to more Wikipedia reading. I ended the night waxing nostalgic on the Concorde page, and reminiscing about the time when that beautiful, incredible symbol of national pride flew over my house in England.

And that was probably when I became hooked. All that “research” really made me realise how amazing airplanes are, and after that I simply couldn’t learn enough. I remember walking into The Airline’s hangar in training, and staring in awe at the big, beautiful aircraft that were being worked on. I made friends with the mechanics, and bugged them for information. When I started flying I would pester the pilots with questions whenever I got the chance. On the whole, they were very helpful, and didn’t seem at all bothered by the flight attendant who wanted to learn everything she could. On my breaks, I would visit them in the flight deck. In exchange for making them tea or coffee, every day I would pick one button or dial and say “What does this do?” and from there they would give me a mini lesson until it was time for me to go back to the cabin and keep working.

I found myself becoming attached to the airplane that I most frequently worked on. I affectionately called her Lettie, a name I derived from her registration. Whenever boarding from the airstairs instead of a bridge, I would make an effort to pat her affectionately on the nose and say “Hello Girl”. This probably makes me sounds like a bit of a loon, but I couldn’t help but feel a kind of love for this wonderful machine that flew me to so many destinations and kept me safe at 32,000 ft. She wasn’t a shiny new plane. She was a Boeing 737-400 series. A little ghetto, truth be told. And she had a tendency to leak in the galley. All the time. Every time I would fly there would be water coming from somewhere (usually a result of melted ice in the canisters, or else the Coffee Maker of Doom). But she did the job. 36.5m long, and with a cruising speed of 439kt. Despite her occasional galley-related temper tantrum, most of the pilots agreed that she was the best of The Airline’s fleet to fly, and she was hands down my favourite.

Despite my constant thirst for knowledge about the aircraft and the actual flying, I found myself settling right into the flight attendant lifestyle, and loved almost every minute of it. Naturally it wasn’t all happy times. There were delays, constant catering issues, de-icing for the second time in one day (Ottawa in January is a magical place…), waking up and not knowing what province –or even country- you were in, trolley-related injuries, spending days and days working on minimum crew rest without even time for a beer, and full blown “clashes of character” in the galley. But every job has its issues, and aside from ours, Team YOW generally had a blast.

One day, during a break in the flight deck, it crossed my mind that being a pilot would actually be super cool. I casually asked the First Officer how he had gotten into it. He explained about the degree program. I was interested, but a little put off. It sounded like an expensive venture, not to mention a lot more school. Still, I filed it away in my mind under “Things I might do if I ever had the money and fancied more schooling”. It didn’t seem particularly important, since I’d “Always Wanted to be an Archaeologist”.

It was just the sort of thing I would think about every now and then, along the lines of “Wouldn’t it be cool if…”

Then, one day in the middle of the Yorkdale Mall in Toronto, I got a very bad phone call. The Tour Operator for whom we had been flying had gone under. The Airline was fine, but they didn’t have any contracts for the YOW crew. We were, in short, screwed. Nine flight attendants out of work. Every so often The Airline would tease us with “possible charters”, but on the whole it was a bleak time. I got a bit depressed with the lack of flying, which wasn’t good, but it did throw some light on the fact that I had been really happy with flying. When I found myself driving around the airport and finding the perfect place to park my car and watch airplanes take off and land overhead, I knew it was time to re-examine this “Wouldn’t it be cool if…” idea I had stored away.

For weeks I had been driving past the airport every day on my way home, and I always saw the sign for the Flying Club. Every time I looked it it, it felt as though my brain crept closer and closer towards a conclusion.
Finally, one morning on my way into the city, my brain disengaged completely, and I discovered that my hands were turning the wheel. Before I knew it I was parking in the lot of the Flying Club.

An Unexpected Change of Heart

I’ve always been interested in history.

I could say I have always wanted to be an archaeologist, but that isn’t necessarily true. I think I wanted to be an archaeologist after I discovered I could actually study it and make it a valid(ish) career choice, which was in grade 11. Back then I knew I was going to be an Egyptologist, and was determined to do it. I found the best program in the province, if not the country, that would allow me to study the archaeology of the Ancient Near East.

About two years into that program, I figured out that Egypt, while still a fascinating place with an amazing history that I love, was not going to be the right path for me. I shifted my interests to the Middle Ages, and eventually determined that I wanted to be a field archaeologist and specialize in Medieval defensive architecture.

My point is, people change their minds. I have done it before. If you had asked me five years ago, I would have said that my future would be spent with a trowel somewhere in Egypt looking for Queen Nefertiti. If you had asked me about that same dream three years ago, I would have laughed at how deluded I was, and swoon over a really nicely constructed spiral staircase or a damn fine curtain wall ( I still might, too. Defensive architecture is seriously cool.)

If you asked me today what I see myself doing in my future?
Chances are I am going to say that I see myself flying for a commercial airline.

Tricky.
I feel as though I am standing on a precipice, and am about to take the plunge into a new, exciting, terrifying world. I am at the point where I am very likely to say that I will not be a professional archaeologist.

‘Grad school isn’t for everyone, dear’ my favourite professor once told me. I think she was trying to comfort me. I was having a meltdown in the archaeological lab, mostly roommate based, partially academic. It wasn’t exactly a pep talk though. At the time I was furious and hurt, and avoided her for weeks. Grad school was everything. I was going to have a PhD and dig stuff up! It was important. Eventually I got over it. I figured she just didn’t think I was grad school material because I didn’t excel in her particular area of expertise.

But Grad school isn’t for everyone. Now I think about it, can I really say I can imagine myself working independently on a research paper of epic proportions? Sure, if it was something I was really interested in, but I would still struggle. Realistically speaking, I am the girl who, when faced with a 25 page research paper, would procrastinate mainly out of fear, and pull something together in the end, but never really the best I could have done had I not been crippled by fear for the majority of the semester. Research papers are not my thing. Can’t do much about that.

Can I see myself excavating? Sure! I love being in the field. But can I see myself doing all the research and writing it all up and teaching and everything else that goes along with it? Not so much.

Well… here’s an option. I could be a pilot. I could work in a job I might actually love, make a good wage, and then take some time every year, maybe every few years, and volunteer just to dig on archaeological excavations. The digging was the good part anyway, the part that got me hooked. Watching something unfold in front of you, like a backwards jigsaw puzzle. God help me, I even liked the paper work that came with it. But if I’m being honest with myself, I could leave the rest. The bookish side. Not really for me.

But the aviation industry.
Well there’s something special.