Would you like to hear about one of my most embarrassing moments? I’m almost too embarrassed to talk about it —-I’ve never told a soul. I don’t think anyone even knows it happened, except those who were there —and they’re probably still laughing.
This was 1970 in San Francisco. My three roommates and I were brand new TWA flight attendants right out of flight training in Kansas City, and as green as a Florida lime.
In those days, everyone in the domicile had to bid on flights and if you won one, it was yours all month. At the end of the month, the flights for the next month were posted, then bid on, and the results posted in the crew lounge.
Flight attendants were paid for a certain number of flight hours each month. The most popular flights were obviously those that used the most number of flight hours up the fastest, so you had the rest of your month free to do whatever you wanted.
The least favorite flights were the short commuter puddle jumpers to Los Angeles and back again, every day of the month.
Where I was domiciled in San Francisco, the choicest flights every month were always won by the most tenured flight attendants. We three were new and had no tenure. That meant we were “on call” and had to be ready to go to the airport on a moment’s notice —-the entire month.
Because you were on call, you were also limited as to what you could do in your free time —-no drinking, bag always packed, cash in your wallet, and since we didn’t have cell phones in those days, no overnights with anyone away from home.
What most of the flight attendants I talked to did, which helped a little, was to buy a wig —-at least there would be no worries about a bad hair day.
One afternoon I got a call after I left the pool at our apartment complex. It would be a non-stop coast to coast with an overnight layover in NYC. The crew would take a limo to the Commodore Hotel (now called the Grand Hyatt New York), and the next morning, deadhead back (empty plane) to San Francisco.
I showered, dressed in my uniform, put on my makeup and since my hair was still damp, I put on a wig, grabbed my suitcase, purse, and left.
Okay, now we’re going to jump ahead to mid-flight. After dinner clean up, we pulled the movie screen down, dimmed the lights, and the cockpit turned on the in-flight movie.
Someone had to serve drinks during the movie, so being the non-tenured new girl, I had to ‘volunteer’. I filled the tray with drinks, balanced it between both hands and bent down to go under the movie screen … and the little hook … on the bottom of the screen … caught in my hair … and yanked my wig off!
I turned my head for a peek and there it was, dangling under the screen. “How the hell was I going to get rid of the friggin’ tray so I could grab my wig?”
Thankfully, an aisle seat passenger offered to take the tray which freed my hands … did I mention that my hair was damp from the shower when I put the wig on?
As I ran to the lavatory with my wig and looked in the mirror, my only thought was, “O H - M Y - G O D … I LOOK LIKE ART GARFUNKEL …”
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I'm tellin' ya, C.J. Ya gotta write a book! That's hilarious and with all due respect to Mr. Garfunkle--OMG, you must have looked a fright! But, the wig, hanging from the hook under the screen? Didn't the "audience" burst out laughing? Nowadays nobody'd even notice because they'd all be playing games on their iphones....