Page 3 of Sparks
“Roger that, and no worries. See you on the ground. Good luck with the irate ones.”
We hung up and the pilot’s voice came on overhead. “Flight Attendants prepare for landing.”
Two steps ahead of you, buddy. I didn’t know the First Pilot. Most of them were men and women who came and went straight from home and kept to themselves. It was the younger Second Pilots, or co-pilots, who fraternized with us FAs. Only downfall? Most of them were married. Even Silas. That was a weird concept for me when I’d started this job. Even though practically everyone back home in Virginia Beach was getting engaged and married, I still wasn’t used to having to check for wedding rings and stuff. It felt like everyone was moving forward but me.
My body relaxed at the feel of the plane lowering in elevation. It was my favorite part of the flight, like when you laid in a bathtub with the water draining and your body got heavier and heavier. It was comforting. The wheels touched down and the brakes pumped hard, pushing me forward against the straps like the end of a roller coaster ride. I loved this part too. But when we slowed, I looked outside of the small window and bit my lip.
Snow was coming down hard, even here in Philly. I held back a groan. It wasn’t just snow, it was crazy wind, whipping the fat, white flakes into a frenzy. Yeah…we totally weren’t going back to Newark tonight. I lived fifteen minutes away from Newark Airport, but snow in Jersey made for even more disastrous driving conditions than normal, especially on all the bridges. And I needed new tires. So, it was kind of good that I didn’t have to drive home in this. But still…I was going to be missing roomie-night, which I’d looked forward to all week. I tried not to let the heavy disappointment show on my face at the thought of being the only one not there.
“Welcome to snowy Philadelphia, Pennsylvania where the local time is 10:15PM. As you can see the storm is upon us. Please check the displays for updated flight information.” My mind wandered during the rest of the pilot’s message as he attempted to calm the passengers. Basically, if this thing dumped on us, a lot of planes would be grounded for at least a day, and ground transportation would be spotty. I hoped people liked sleeping on sketchy airport floors.
Marcelle dealt with the airline agents and paperwork when they opened the door, and then said good-bye to the passengers, along with both the pilots, while I was stuck taking stock of the remaining beer, wine, and liquor inventory in the galley behind them. I remotely heard them laughing about the huge bout of turbulence, and then that low country voice rang through.
“Took that one clean off her feet.”
I glanced up from where I was crouching and saw the officer peering down at me fondly. My stomach flipped. I literally didn’t know how the organ could stay intact after that.
“I saw it from the back!” Marcelle said, laughing. “First she flew up about a foot off the ground and thenplop!” She smacked her hands together and everyone laughed. Wonderful. I gave a tight smile, glad they were finding such amusement at the expense of my pride. Everyone at Omega Skies Newark would know about it by the morning.Sigh.
“She’s still a rookie,” Silas explained, and I rolled my eyes, continuing to smile.
When I chanced a look at the officer again, he gave me a nod and lifted two fingers in a wave, then departed. I felt a weird rush of sadness and the urge to jump up and chase him. How often does someone feel that kind of weird connection or whatever it was? It was depressing to think he was walking away and I’d never see him again or have a chance to get to know him.
“Good-bye, Miss!” I looked up at the warm smiling face of the guy who’d caught me.
“Bye! Thanks again!” I gave him a big wave as an urge came over me. “Where are you guys based?”
“Camp Lejeune!” he said over his shoulder as the crush of camo bodies pushed him forward.
Marcelle and Silas both gave me eyebrow-up looks and I shrugged. “What?”
As soon as passengers were off, I signed my name on the clipboard and did a super-fast walk-through of the cabin, picking up trash and making sure nobody forgot anything important. I came across the vomit bag kindly left behind, and pinched the corner between my nails, tossing it in the trash as I held my breath. A few people left tabloid magazines—score for me! I couldn’t afford that kind of stuff these days. I shoved them in my overnight bag and met the rest of the crew to head out.
The four of us speed-walked through the terminal, following Ground Transportation signs. Tons of people stood in long lines at airline kiosks, probably trying to get hotel vouchers, which might be difficult since the cause of the cancellations was weather, not the fault of the airlines. These poor people. I would hate to be one of the customer service agents here tonight.
Our pilot was on his cell with Omega Skies personnel as we walked, his forehead pinched.
“That’s the best you can do?” he asked. Silas and I shared an uh-oh look when the pilot cursed quietly under his breath and hung up.
“Looks like we’re headed to the overflow motel. Piece of shit. Sorry, guys.”
Marcelle did not look pleased. She loved her comforts. But Silas and I just shrugged.
“Do we get our own rooms, at least?” Silas asked.
“Yes, I made sure of that.”
Alrighty, then. Roach motel, here we come.
Outside, nearly two inches of snow had already accumulated in the untrodden areas, and I pulled the collar up on my wool jacket, winding a tartan scarf around my neck and chin. We made our way through the mass chaos, everyone freaking out to get taxis and shuttles before stuff shut down. I gasped when one taxi slid sideways on the road as he pulled out too quickly, relieved he didn’t hit anyone.
We climbed aboard the shuttle and sat with our luggage between our knees. All four of us immediately pulled out our phones. Mine was still in airplane mode and had been since I left the apartment at five that morning. As soon as I turned off airplane mode a string of alerts sounded: texts and a notification sound I’d never heard before. I peered at the screen and saw an icon that looked like a firework. Ugh, stupid system updates. Before I could deal with it, “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” began playing. Holly’s ringtone.
“Hey, Holls.” Holly had been my roommate during our six-week flight attendant training and we’d become fast friends.
“Oh, my God! Finally! Are you on the road? The weather’s getting bad.”
“No.” I sounded as grumpy as I felt. “Diverted to Philly.”
