Tales From My First Year as a Hostie
G&Ts, Bloody Marys and God Knows What Else
Today I flew from to Johannesburg. It was my second time to Johannesburg and I was praying for dear life that it wasn’t going to be as miserable as my first.
The first time had been Christmas Eve. I’d been on standby for the few days leading to Christmas and after a few days without the dread phone call, I’d lulled myself into a false sense of shit-I-might-just-be-able-to-spend-Christmas-at-home-ness.
The flight was full of South Africans heading home for Christmas so I spent the flight pouring countless G&Ts, Bloody Marys and god knows what else. If you thought it was possible to run out of alcohol on a flight, you’re wrong.
Plus I’d never worked on a Boeing 747 before. Trying to find anything involved opening about fifty million stowages whilst simultaneously pulling my hair out every time the stowage DIDN’T reveal what I was after. Needless to say, I reached Johannesburg with a decidedly thinner head of hair and ten broken nails.
After fourteen fun filled hours, we reached Johannesburg. I would have jumped for joy if I’d had the energy.
The final straw was when I couldn’t access wifi in my hotel room. I know it’s a first world problem but when you’ve had a shit day and just wanna fall into a glass of wine at the end of it, it’s like getting home to find there’s not a drop left in the house.
So there I was, early Christmas morning in my pajamas balling my eyes out on the couch in reception which I’d figured out was the only place in the hotel that I could access wifi. All I wanted to do was send and receive some Christmas messages from home. Hotel staff must have thought I was a nutcase. Yep, 40 years old and still a big baby.
So needless to say, I was approaching my second trip with dread.
It couldn’t have been more different. And thank god for that. It probably helped that the flight was half empty and I’ve worked about a dozen trips on the 747 since then so feeling slightly more familiar with my surroundings.
Plus it always helps when your passengers are not assholes. Well, there is always one and god knows why it’s staff travellers that are always the most demanding. You’d think that because they paid bugger all for their seat, they’d just sit there and shut up but oh no, they want more of everything.
I can understand why full paying passengers are demanding because it’s every person’s right to get their money’s worth but when you’ve paid practically nothing and don’t seem to possess the words PLEASE or THANK YOU in their vocabulary, that shit just gets my back up.