Confessions of a Hostie Read online

  Ryan races away as I try to make Mr. Weiss as comfortable as I can. He is still conscious, I tell myself, trying to feel strong.

  Just then I feel a hand on my shoulder. I turn to see the concerned, yet reassuring face of Dean.

  ‘Danielle, I am a medical doctor. I’ll take over from here. Let your manager know I am here. Please do bring the defibrillator, but hurry back because I need your help.’

  I don’t have time to think. I scurry toward Ryan.

  We return to Dean – sorry Dr. Dean – and find him kneeling next to Mr. Weiss, talking to him in a soft and reassuring voice whilst checking his pulse. Dean subtly acknowledges our return and continues to monitor his patient. Mr. Weiss appears to no longer be in pain, but is still clutching his chest and looks exhausted.

  Dean turns to us, ‘I am positive he has had a heart-attack, but it appears to be over now. Please keep the defib handy. If you could bring me an oxygen bottle and some extra blankets, that would be great.’

  I jump in, ‘I’ll get them’.

  When I return I assist Dean in hooking up the oxygen to Mr. Weiss while Ryan places the blankets over him. ‘I’ll see if we can get onto Global Lifeline,’ Ryan tells Dr. Dean and then leaves.

  Global Lifeline is, as the name infers, a medical response organisation that we can get in touch with in situations just like this. Dean has obviously liaised with Ryan to inform the flight deck of the state of affairs. I’ve been in a couple of medical emergencies before. Each time we have diverted to the nearest airport, making sure that the appropriate medical facilities are nearby. This time we are in the middle of nowhere. A million different questions are going through my mind. I could ask any one of them to Dean, but instead I just sit by his side. Although I am not really doing anything, I am there. If he needs my help, he will ask.

  Ryan returns to tell Dean that the flight crew is trying to call Global Lifeline and that they will relay the information when they have an answer.

  ‘I just need to pass on some additional information to the pilots. Now, Dr. Weily, you are a medical doctor?’

  Dean replies, ‘That’s right. I’m a GP, a general practitioner.’

  Ryan continues with a series of questions, obviously intended to cover us legally and ethically.

  I see that Mr. Weiss is very drowsy, but appears stable, so I duck away to get a glass of water for both Ryan and Dean.

  While I am away, I go to the boss’s work station and look at his copy of the passenger list.

  4J – Dr. Dean Weily.

  I know the name Weily is reasonably common, but I have usually seen it spelled ‘Wiley’, ‘Willey’, ‘Wyley’, and ‘Wylie’, but rarely ‘Weily’, the same spelling as Danny’s surname. I am so curious to ask Dean whether he’s related to Danny, but I know that now is not the appropriate time to ask.

  Dean and Ryan decide to move the passenger in 5K to 4J, so Dean can sit next to Mr. Weiss and monitor him as well as keep an eye on the oxygen cylinders. Each bottle lasts for just over an hour, and we still have a number of hours left to finish with this trip. With Dean sitting in the window seat, it makes it very difficult for me to communicate with him, although I give him all the assistance I possibly can in making Mr. Weiss comfortable. I even forgo my time-off to help.

  At one point the call-light comes on, and I investigate. Mrs.Vandenberg wants to know what all the noise and commotion was about. When I tell her that a man has just had a heart attack, but he seems OK now, she says, without one morsel of empathy, ‘Can you keep the noise down then?’

  When we do another meal service before landing, I contemplate doing something evil. I think about getting some eye-drops and putting a few drops in Her Majesty’s meal. I have heard this has no long-term health effects, but acts as one almighty instant laxative. As wicked as some of my thoughts can be and as intense as my disdain for this woman is, I just can’t go through with it.

  i knew he looked familiar

  Ryan has chatted with Dean throughout the flight and been updating the techies about Mr. Weiss’s condition. Dean chooses not to eat and continues to keep a constant vigil over his patient.

  I really want to ask Dean if he knows Danny Weily, but I’m feeling just too awkward to ask under the circumstances.

  ‘Do you need to make a connecting flight to Tanzania tonight?’ is all I can muster when I do get a chance to talk to him.

  ‘No, I am staying in Johannesburg tonight and then fly out in the morning. I am actually staying at your crew hotel.’

  ‘How does he know where the usually stay?’ I think, but still don’t ask.

  Damn it, ask Danielle, ask!

  I ponder momentarily, before my curiosity gets the better of me, ‘How do you know about our crew hotel?’

  He is also trying to be mindful of Mr. Weiss, but answers anyway, ‘My brother organised it, and he is—’

  I interrupt him, ‘Danny Weily? Oh my God, you are Danny’s brother!’

  Dean smiles, but tries to be restrained, ‘You know Danny?’

  This is not really the right time or place for me to jump up and down and yell ‘Oh my god! I just don’t believe it!’ I simply and coolly say, ‘I know Danny very well. Listen, we’ll talk later. Have you made transport plans to get to the hotel when we land?’

  He shakes his head.

  ‘I’ll arrange for you to come with us on the crew bus.’

  He is appreciative. Before I walk away, I direct my attention to Mr. Weiss. He is still on oxygen and very weak. He can understand what we are saying, but does not have the strength to speak.

  I talk with Ryan and inform that Dr. Weily is staying at the same hotel as us, and Ryan is more than happy for him to catch the crew bus if the captain is OK with it. Ryan also tells me that he has already gifted Dr. Weily a nice bottle of champagne, as thanks for all the help he has done for us. I don’t tell Ryan, but I had also slipped Dean some French and a fine bottle of red as well. Dean is going to walk off looking like a pack horse.

  As soon as we land, medical staff are on hand, and with the assistance of Dean, they leave with Mr. Weiss before any of the other passengers can disembark. Dean returns to pick up his bag (and additional bags, compliments of the airline) and I tell him to wait by the luggage carousel for me. From there, I can direct him to our crew bus.

  I notice that Dean offers to let all the crew sit down before he has boarded the bus. Dean appears incredibly savvy with regard to crew etiquette. When I wait back with him, he insists that I sit down first. Although there are other spare seats available, he chooses to sit next to me.

  ‘You’ve been on a crew bus before haven’t you?’

  He smiles, ‘How did you know?’

  ‘I notice things. Have you been on any trips with Danny?’

  ‘Several.’

  As a crew member we get fantastic staff travel benefits. We are also allowed to nominate one other person to receive the same benefits. I’ve had my mum on my staff benefits for a few years. However, she has been away with me only once, and I am considering offering the benefits to Helen instead. I am mindful of the fact that Helen is a mother of two, which makes it difficult for her to get away, but I know how much she would love it.

  Dean is on Danny’s staff benefits, but based on what he is saying, I gather he has only recently taken these trips.

  I do some calculations in my head: he has only recently started travelling the world; he is probably three or four years younger than Danny, he is going to Africa for a few months doing volunteer work; he has no ring on his finger. I deduce that he is recently separated or divorced.

  I probably shouldn’t try to play amateur psychologist, but I would bet my still new D&G jeans (which are now my favourites) that he has only recently become single.

  When we reach the hotel, some of the crew members are going down to the bar to unwind and to take advantage of our free welcome drink. Dean asks me if I am going too. I wasn’t, but I am easily persuaded once I find out that he’s planning to go.
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br />   Most of the crew turn up at the bar; this is a bit unusual as many say they will, but rarely do they come. This is surely antisocial behaviour, but after a seventeen- or eighteen hour working day and enduring numerous time-changes, sometimes you have all the right intentions to be social, but can’t follow through; fatigue hits you like a sledgehammer before you even make it to the shower.

  Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, after a massive day your body overtakes your mind and you hit the wall. This time I push through that barrier, and feel surprisingly good. The company helps; Dean is as witty and charming as his brother. There are similarities, but they are very much different people. We spend some time at the bar, and then he asks me if I am hungry. I know he must be famished so we leave the rest of the crew and walk to a sensational steak restaurant near the hotel. I am beginning to suspect that all of the restaurants in Jo’burg are steak restaurants.

  But no one’s complaining about that: the steaks in South Africa are awesome. Dean brings along the bottle of red wine I gave him onboard, and the restaurant has no problem with us drinking it there. My filet mignon is to die for. I much prefer quality to quantity when it comes to meat and men; as for my meat, any steak that can be cut with a butter knife is my type of steak. This steak is the best I have ever had, and the company is even better.

  Dean is divorced, like I had already guessed, but doesn’t like to talk about his personal life too much. He doesn’t have children, and from what I gather, that was the marriage’s problem. She wanted kids, but Dean didn’t.

  ‘I am a bit like Danny, in that I like to explore and travel. I had all those years at medical school and then I got married and set up my own practice … Life just seemed to be passing me by.’

  Our conversation flows effortlessly and although I have been awake for over twenty-four hours already, I somehow wish the night would never end. I get the impression that Dean feels the same way. Before he has finished his steak, which is the biggest I have seen anyone eat, he reiterates what a great time he is having and coyly asks a question.

  ‘Is it is OK for me to call you back home? When I return from Tanzania?’

  I am so excited, but reply as nonchalantly as I can, ‘Are you asking me out on a date, in two months’ time?’

  ‘If I could, I would ask you out on a date tomorrow night.’

  I smile. ‘Tomorrow night works for me.’

  one year later

  We had that date, and many more after that.

  The last twelve months have flown by. Life is so good. Dean and I have been seeing each other since his return from Tanzania. Yes, we are very much in love, thank you very much. Though there has been talk of us moving in together, for now we both are enjoying our own independence. He has been on a trip with me, quite recently – any guesses who was on the crew with us? Danny, of course.

  I always dreamed of celebrating New Year’s Eve in New York, and I finally got my wish this year. Spending New Year’s in Times Square with Dean and Danny and Bernadette was sensational.

  Danny has easily embraced the fact that I am dating his brother, so much so that we bid for some trips together. It was actually Bernadette’s idea to do so.

  All my stars must have been aligned this year, as I also had a Christmas at home this year. Dean and I had lunch with my family and dinner with his, including Danny and Bernadette. Dean is going to Tanzania again and has asked that I visit him during my holidays, which start soon. We are even planning to go on safari together in the Serengeti.

  I put Helen on my staff-travel benefits, and she has done three shorter trips already. I think her husband is starting to regret the decision as Helen has really taken to the life of travel and fancy five-star luxury like a duck to water. In other news, I heard a rumour that Princess Gabrielle has apparently quit flying. Mary broke up with Mike, got back together with him, broke up again, made up, broke up, patched up and finally broke up for good – that is all I’ve heard this week at least.

  Work is still as hard and as taxing on my body as it always has been. I still struggle with the jetlag, the fatigue, the dehydration, the illnesses and the bumps and bruises from working at 35,000 feet in an aluminum tube. Would I rather be doing something else?

  Not a chance in hell.

  sneak preview of volume 2

  “More Confessions of a Hostie: The Second Sector” by Danielle Hugh Chapter 1

  a shin is the perfect device for finding a glass coffee table in the dark

  I sit up with a jolt. The room is pitch-black except for the glow from the bedside clock: 2.15 a.m. Where the hell am I?

  I try searching for the light switch, but then give up. I roll out of bed and make my way toward the window. It is then that my shin discovers the glass coffee table with ferocious force. I clutch my throbbing leg, screaming out things that would make a seasoned sailor blush.

  If I wasn’t so jetlagged, deliriously tired and hopping about like a one-legged rabbit, I would be far more excited that I am in Hong Kong.

  Who am I kidding – I am still excited!

  I know I ought to be putting some ice on the already darkening bruise, rather than making perceptive but useless observations about how the bruise is ironically taking the shape of Hong Kong Island. However, thoughts of shopping in a hostie’s wonderland far outweigh the ones about the bruise on my shin. All I can think about is buying shoes.

  Hong Kong is a single girl’s shopping Mecca. Here, East meets West, and girl meets shoes. It would be nice if I could manage getting a few more hours sleep though. The flight over was a nightmare. We were nearly two hours late departing, thanks to a storm that hit the airport whilst the passengers were boarding. The sky turned black, and the winds were very strong. Even a massive aircraft like the jumbo 747, although sitting on the tarmac, rocked quite a bit. When the last passenger had boarded, all I had been able to see out the window were flashes of lightning and pouring rain.

  The captain had immediately made a PA to inform passengers that due to the severe weather outside, particularly the lightning, the loading of their baggage into the cargo hold was momentarily suspended, until the lightning was gone.

  I’ve had some dumb things said to me in my twenty years of flying, but one passenger wins the blue ribbon in that category.

  ‘How long will the lightning delay the aircraft?’ a woman asked me.

  I replied, ‘I don’t know, ma’am. That is up to a higher authority to decide.’

  She doesn’t understand my tongue-in-cheek response. They say lightning never strikes twice in the same place, but people who ask silly questions do strike repeatedly.

  With a very serious expression, she asked, ‘So, who does know then?’

  No, no, no! Don’t make me say it, I think to myself.

  ‘So your question is basically this: How long will the lightning last? I have already told you that I don’t know. We already know the captain doesn’t know. The ground-staff don’t know, the airport doesn’t know, the airline company doesn’t know and I’m guessing that if Albert Einstein were still alive he wouldn’t know. Only one person knows – that’s God. G.O.D., the Almighty!’ is what I would have loved to scream out, but how can you be sarcastic to someone who would lack the basic commonsense to understand sarcasm? Albert Einstein himself once said, ‘Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity, and I’m not sure about the universe.’

  Instead I tell the woman that weather conditions are out of the airline’s control and that the captain will be told by the ground staff when it is safe to continue loading bags.

  In addition to the irritable passengers and the extra hours we had to work, it proved to be an eventful flight. A woman collapsed in her seat, and we spent much of the flight treating and monitoring her condition. Fortunately there was a doctor onboard (as there usually is). It was diagnosed that the woman had a severe twenty-four-hour virus. With oxygen and some onboard medication the woman’s condition improved slowly, but we still needed to monitor her, which added to o
ur already heavy workload.

  Elsewhere in the cabin, an elderly woman had lost her necklace. This woman had been brought onto the aircraft in a wheelchair and she had been so feeble. If she were my mother or grandmother I would never have allowed her to travel on her own. I had helped prepare her tray during the meal service and had then helped her eat as well; I had done everything except spoon-feed her. Not long after we had cleared the tray she discovered that her necklace was missing. I prayed she hadn’t left it on her tray as the chances of finding it amongst hundreds of dirty trays were almost none.

  It had probably fallen between seats or under her cushion, I guessed. I helped her up from the seat, so that I could search in and around the seat. As I lowered my head to her seat the smell hit me at the exact moment as the wetness of the seat cushion oozed through my fingers.

  She had urinated in the seat. Gross, gross and triple gross.

  I donned gloves, removed the cushion and replaced it with the only spare seat cushion available on the plane.

  I eventually found the necklace where I had suspected it would be found. I also found that it was a piece of very cheap costume jewellery and had a broken clasp, which effectively rendered it useless anyway.

  Was all my discomfort and effort worth the effort? Nope.

  The smell of urine lingered in my nostrils for the remainder of the flight and through the bus trip to our crew hotel. On reaching the hotel, the first thing I did was run into the bathroom and give myself a long, hot shower. Then, I had the choice of either crawling straight into bed or to go out for crew-drinks and treat myself to a couple of glasses of wine, and unwind with the crew.

  I went with the more sociable option. I might be still paying the price for those few wines, with a hangover (and now a bruised shin) but thoughts of shopping have put back the spring in my step – or ‘in my hop’.

  Whoever said money can’t buy happiness didn’t know where to go shopping. Sadly, shops aren’t open in the early hours of the morning, so after watching infomercials on TV for several hours I decide to have another long shower and then hit the gym. I’d like to say that I love going to the gym, but I don’t. Guilt is my motivator and boredom my vindication.