Tag: flight attendant

Honest Jane

Every now and then you make a mistake and then find yourself entirely dependent on the actions of others to get it fixed. As much as you might want to make things right yourself, you’re forced to sit back and hope for the best from someone else. Such was the case this past Labor Day, when my wife was so eager to deplane from our return flight home that she left her iPhone in the seat pocket in front of her. When you realize the magnitude of this kind of mistake – and it hits you after you’re long gone from the airport – it kind of takes your breath away.

Let’s be fair.  Leaving things on planes is not my wife’s specialty; it’s mine.  I’ve left everything from reading glasses to a Kindle e-Reader to a really nice pair of Bose headphones behind, a sort of “Merry Christmas” to those who clean the planes.  So my wife would be forgiven for her audible gasp when she realized her out-of-character mistake.  And my mind promptly went to the consequences of her actions: a) A trip to the Apple Store more than an hour from our house, b) The purchase price of a new iPhone, and c) The likelihood my wife hadn’t backed up her left-behind phone (and all those precious granddaughter photos).

As it almost always does, the problem-solver in me shifted into high gear.  I realized my wife had shared her (iPhone) location with me, which meant my phone could see if her phone was still on the plane.  So I had her check my phone (since I’m a responsible driver) and guess what?  Not only was her phone not on the plane anymore, it was moving.  Down the airport concourse, away from the plane, boldly in the direction of the free world beyond.

At this point two more thoughts entered my mind.  One (sadly, the first one), whomever cleans the plane pocketed the phone and was casually on their way out the door, with hopes of breaking through the passcode and wreaking havoc.  Or two, an employee of the airline was carefully shepherding the phone to the front counter, where maybe-just-maybe they’d make an effort to contact my wife.

“HJ”

Why wait for either scenario to play out?  I told my wife, “Call your phone”.  Which she did, and guess who answered?  Honest Jane.  Okay, Honest Jane wasn’t her real name, but after the conversation that followed it really could’ve been. “HJ” was walking down the concourse towards the front counter, phone in hand, where she intended to check the flight record for contact information for my wife.  Pretty sure this long stroll from airplane to counter wasn’t part of Jane’s regular job description.  But she made it sound like a walk in the park – happy to do so.  Were we still at the airport (and with my wife’s approval), I would’ve kissed HJ on the cheek.

Instead, more options.  Do we turn the car around and go back to the airport, rescuing the phone but adding another three hours to our drive home?  Or do we ask HJ for a more convenient solution?  I chose Door #2.  HJ thought for a minute as she continued her walk and then said, “Well, you could set up a personal FedEx account, create a shipping label addressed to yourself, overnight the label to here, and then you’d get your phone back in a day or two.”  Well bless your heart HJ, you’re a problem-solver too!

As of this post I’m happy to report my wife’s phone has been reunited with its owner.  All means of texting, social media, and exchanging of granddaughter photos has resumed.  But a question remains: What to do about HJ… or more to the point, how to thank Jane for her Honesty?  Trust me (and trust HJ while you’re at it), I’ll come up with something.  After all, Honest Jane’s a rare breed.  She deserves an attagirl.

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LEGO Neuschwanstein Castle – Update #6 (read about the start of this project in Fit for a (Fairy Tale) King)

We have towers!

Normally I’d update you on my latest efforts of castle construction, followed by a brief commentary on the movie soundtrack I chose for my background music.  Today I must cover both topics together.  For the second Indiana-based movie in as many weeks (alongside Rudy), we have Breaking Away (1979).  This “little” movie and its heartwarming story will always be one of my favorites.  Now if only I could say the same about its score.

Bags 11 and 12 (of 23 bags of pieces) started out innocently enough, with the creation of one of Neuschwanstein’s spectacular towers.  But like Breaking Away‘s soundtrack, things went quickly south.  After finishing the tower I realized I’d left off an entire level, which meant deconstructing almost back to the bricks at the base to get it right.  At the same time I realized several windows from prior construction were out of alignment, which meant even more deconstruction.

Normally I’d take these missteps in stride but the Breaking Away soundtrack was really, really getting on my nerves.  I forgot one giant detail about the music – it’s all opera, and it’s all in Italian.  Words of advice: don’t try linking foreign language operatic soloes to particular moments you remember in movies – it doesn’t go well.  Well, except for M’appari tutt’amor from Act III of the comic opera Martha.  It’s the film’s signature solo and the song the lead character chooses as a serenade to a college girl he can never have.  This captivating scene, and so many more like it, is what makes Breaking Away an unforgettable film.  Just don’t bother with the soundtrack afterwards.

Running build time: 6:33

Total leftover pieces: 43

Window Addressing

My wife and I just returned from a trip to Boston. On the flight home, we took our seats as usual: she at the window and me in the middle. It was a peaceful journey, save for the rather chatty woman across the aisle. But then, as we began our descent into Denver, behold an uncomfortable moment. A glare of sunlight through my wife’s window struck Chatty Woman in the eyes, who immediately turned and snapped, “CLOSE THAT WINDOW!” I just smiled from the middle seat and assured her the glare would move on momentarily (which it did). Chatty Woman gave me a stare and a huff, and turned away. Gee, nice to meet you too.

I’ve touched on the dynamics – er, politics – of airplane passenger seats before, in Flight of the Humble Bee (a taste of first-class), and Center Peace (life in the middle seat), but I always thought window-seat dwellers were far enough to the left or right to escape judgment. No longer. In fact, more than ever the spotlight shifts to them.

Let’s review the powers held by the different seats on the plane. The aisle seat, some would argue, commands the most power because a) the occupant controls the freedom of all others on his/her side of the row, b) the occupant has the easiest access to everyone else and everything else on the plane, and c) the occupant can lean or leg into the aisle as he/she pleases (a power move in itself, albeit a weak one).

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The middle seat [or in larger planes, middle seats. To you, the occupant of the middle seat in a row of 5+, you have my utmost sympathy] has powers inversely proportional to the aisle and window seat occupants. That is, the more empathetic your seatmates with your middle-seatedness, the more likely you’ll get perks (i.e. the use of both armrests, requests to the flight attendants, the window shade setting to your preference).

Speaking of the shade, that my friends, is the power-play of the window seat. Whether the shade is up, down, or somewhere in the middle is entirely up to the occupant (or occasionally directed by the flight attendants). Once upon a time the window shade was a minor prop; only down when the shared overhead movie screens (or sleeping passengers) demanded dark. Today? Every mobile phone, tablet, reading device, laptop, and in-seat movie screen is photophobic. Light sensitivity abounds.

Here’s the change in dynamic you’re not aware of. The passenger in the window seat is not the person he/she once was. Before, people chose the window seat to enjoy the high-skies views, or more importantly, to keep their geographic bearings or avoid the claustrophobia of a closed-up cabin. Today, people choose the window seat to control the shade, for optimal lighting of all those handheld devices.

To further complicate the matter we have the Boeing 787 airplane, which replaced the window shade with electrified gel sandwiched between panes of glass. The gel darkens or lightens depending on the amount of applied current. Cool tech, but also a compromise of power for the window seat occupant. The flight attendants (as they deem necessary), can darken all of the windows during sleeping hours or movie time or even hot days. Might want to check the type of aircraft before you board your next flight.

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I suspect if “CLOSE THAT WINDOW!” persists, the airlines might jump at another opportunity for profit. Someday you’ll find yourself choosing a seat in the “light” or “dark” section of the plane, with a fee placed on one or both types of seats. Not a fan. Then again, if the airlines would sequester crying babies, cell-phone talkers and other audibles into a soundproofed section, I’ll be the first one on-board.

Some content sourced from the 9/18/19 Wall Street Journal article, “The Showdown at the Window Seat”.