I am amazed that Pilot Husband can get through the metal detector at security. He is one of those people who must have taken a strange fall as a child and ended up with a horseshoe up his a$$, because everything always works out for him. This fact manifests itself when we attempt to nonrev (fly for free, space available) together. It always works out for him; me... not so much.
Many years ago, Pilot Husband was invited to a two day interview process with Hawaiian Airlines. Being the loving and kind wife that I am (pause here for laughter), I offered to travel to Los Angeles with him, spend the night, see him off, and hang with friends and family for two days, after which we could travel home together.
We got to LAX easily enough, travelling on my company, even treating ourselves to First Class upgrades. Unfortunately, People Magazine must have been really interesting that week because after the dinner service, our Flight Attendant disappeared, not to be seen again until short final. That meant that I, in non-rev, plain clothes attire, spent the last half of the trans-con flight refilling drinks for everyone in First Class including PilotHusband, passing the snack basket around, and picking up trash. When we arrived in LA, Pilot Husband was well rested and I was exhausted.
Two days later, after much success for him, we met at LAX to journey home together. That's when the drama started. Due to a mechanical cancellation, our flight home with my company fell apart. Pilot Husband ran to the Continental gate, and was able to get the jumpseat home, and subsequently offered a vacant seat in first class. Meanwhile, I managed to get the last Flight Attendant Jumpseat on an Airbus with my company. Unfortunately, that meant that I had to sit knees to knees, facing the passenger directly across from me, at the bulkhead row. And I swear to you, it was the creepiest, most vile member of the flying public, I ever encountered... and it wanted to chat. It was going to be a long 6 hours.
Somewhere over Arizona, Pilot Husband was enjoying Shrimp Cocktail and a cute Hugh Grant movie. Meanwhile, somewhere over Arizona, the pilots of my flight took pity on my plight and invited me to hang out in the cockpit. Pilot Husband, on his flight, was enjoying a salad with edible flower blossoms. AngryPilotWife, on her flight, was sleeping on the floor of the Airbus cockpit. Things got worse. While PilotHusband moved on to steak and lobster tail, the senior Flight Attendant on my flight was about to check on the boys in the cockpit. Unfortunately, she forgot I was there... on the floor... and she stepped on me, leaving orthopedic shoe prints on my back. When she returned with coffee a few minutes later, (as PilotHusband was enjoying an ice cream sundae) she again forgot I was there (hey! I said she was "senior"), and she dumped two cups of hot coffee with extra sugar on my head.
Curiously, PilotHusband's relaxing and enjoyable Continental flight arrived in CLT within minutes of my non rev flight from Hell. We walked to the employee lot, holding hands... he, relaxed and content. Me... bruised and sticky.
It just doesn't seem fair.
Many years ago, Pilot Husband was invited to a two day interview process with Hawaiian Airlines. Being the loving and kind wife that I am (pause here for laughter), I offered to travel to Los Angeles with him, spend the night, see him off, and hang with friends and family for two days, after which we could travel home together.
We got to LAX easily enough, travelling on my company, even treating ourselves to First Class upgrades. Unfortunately, People Magazine must have been really interesting that week because after the dinner service, our Flight Attendant disappeared, not to be seen again until short final. That meant that I, in non-rev, plain clothes attire, spent the last half of the trans-con flight refilling drinks for everyone in First Class including PilotHusband, passing the snack basket around, and picking up trash. When we arrived in LA, Pilot Husband was well rested and I was exhausted.
Two days later, after much success for him, we met at LAX to journey home together. That's when the drama started. Due to a mechanical cancellation, our flight home with my company fell apart. Pilot Husband ran to the Continental gate, and was able to get the jumpseat home, and subsequently offered a vacant seat in first class. Meanwhile, I managed to get the last Flight Attendant Jumpseat on an Airbus with my company. Unfortunately, that meant that I had to sit knees to knees, facing the passenger directly across from me, at the bulkhead row. And I swear to you, it was the creepiest, most vile member of the flying public, I ever encountered... and it wanted to chat. It was going to be a long 6 hours.
Somewhere over Arizona, Pilot Husband was enjoying Shrimp Cocktail and a cute Hugh Grant movie. Meanwhile, somewhere over Arizona, the pilots of my flight took pity on my plight and invited me to hang out in the cockpit. Pilot Husband, on his flight, was enjoying a salad with edible flower blossoms. AngryPilotWife, on her flight, was sleeping on the floor of the Airbus cockpit. Things got worse. While PilotHusband moved on to steak and lobster tail, the senior Flight Attendant on my flight was about to check on the boys in the cockpit. Unfortunately, she forgot I was there... on the floor... and she stepped on me, leaving orthopedic shoe prints on my back. When she returned with coffee a few minutes later, (as PilotHusband was enjoying an ice cream sundae) she again forgot I was there (hey! I said she was "senior"), and she dumped two cups of hot coffee with extra sugar on my head.
Curiously, PilotHusband's relaxing and enjoyable Continental flight arrived in CLT within minutes of my non rev flight from Hell. We walked to the employee lot, holding hands... he, relaxed and content. Me... bruised and sticky.
It just doesn't seem fair.
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