Chapter 23
Buzzzzzz.
I slam the button on my phone’s alarm. Okay already, I’m getting up.
I check the time. 11:57 am. No, that must be east coast time.
I blink my eyes, forcing myself upright.
Hawaiian time: 11:58 am.
Oh, hell no. I have to make a 12:45 pm departure. Still have to pack, and check out, and…
All thumbs, I bring up the airline app and Flight Status page. Please, God, make it be delayed.
An on-time departure blinks back at me.
Shit.
I hit the bathroom, throw up my hair, and put on my uniform at hummingbird-pace, while simultaneously pitching stuff into my suitcase. Can’t do the airport shuttle, it takes too long. With my suitcase handle in one hand, sweater over my shoulder, phone in the other hand, I set up a Lyft and beeline down the hotel hallway. The elevator is godawful slow, and I’m in overdrive, so I clamber down three flights of stairs, my suitcase bouncing off the steps behind me. I push past a few guests at the counter, drop off my speed checkout form, and make it to the curb just as my ride pulls up.
12:12 pm. Let’s move! I can make this.
The driver takes forever pulling onto the road. I thrust $20 tip at him and he steps on it, our breaks squealing.
We make good time too. Till the traffic light doesn’t turn for three whole minutes. Feet tap, fingers drum, but there ain’t a single thing I can do to make us go faster.
When we move again, I call the scheduling department to see what my options are. They place me on hold.
Kahului Airport. Here we go. We ease up to the terminal curb and I hop out, still on hold with work. I didn’t even have time to do my makeup. My hair falls down from the half-ass job I did on my bun. At security, I hang up my phone, flash my crew badge, and pass through the X-ray machine.
It’s 12:35 pm. Ten minutes. Please let that aircraft door be open.
Panting, I weave past a string of slow people. Sweat soaks through my blouse at my armpits, but I keep trucking. Of course, the gate is the all the way at the end of the terminal.
How could I have let this happen? Damn you, aloha spirit! You seduced me.
Don’t think. Move.
The gate! There it is. Finally. I bolt for the jetway, but the door is shut. Noooooo…
Two agents work behind the gate’s counter.
“Hi.” I rush up to them. “I’m Cezanne Silver, I’m working this flight.”
The brunette glances over her readers, all slow-like. “You’ll have to report to crew check-in for a re-assignment.” She goes back to reading her printout.
“No, please.” I pat the top of the counter. “The plane’s still here, right? I’m supposed to be on it.”
“You’re late,” the agent says, her gaze brief when it lands on me again. “It’s already pushed. We called in a reserve. It’s your job to know protocol.”
“I tried calling but I couldn’t get through.” My hands shake. My termination warning just expired. This won’t look good at all. “Please, is there anything you can do?”
“Take my word for it,” the other gate agent with short black hair says.
She comes around the counter with a stack of boarding passes in her hand and guides me back onto the concourse. Placing a hand to my back, she says, “You don’t wanna spar with that one. You know how many flight attendants have been written up because of her?” Her hand drops. “I’ll walk you to the office.”
I heave an exasperated sigh. I can’t get written up. I just can’t.
“Don’t panic,” the agent says. “This sort of thing happens. Jet-lag and insufficient rest periods start to add up. People end up sleeping in by mistake, even pilots. Many, like you, have learned the hard way.”
“I just got off probation,” I admit.
The agent’s brows furrow. “How’d you get this route so fast right off probation? Oh, wait, that’s right you’re another Future Star, aren’t you? We saw that under your profile.”
“So, what happens next?” I ask modestly.
“You’ll be rescheduled for another flight. If you’re due for another shift on the east coast, they’ll likely move things around. They’ll need you on the last flight of the day back to the mainland. They can pull off one of the scheduled attendants and offer them the early morning flight. Just like when someone calls out sick, or with irregular operations. Happens more than you think. Don’t worry, though, if you’re a Future Star, they’ll wanna keep you. Good staff is good staff, even when you make little mistakes.”
Right. Good staff. That’s me.
* * *
Spending the day in Kahului Airport isn’t all bad. I FaceTime with Mama, then with Pam. Pam asks me lots of questions about what I saw on the island, like if I went to Mama’s Fish House for dinner or swam in the Olivine tide pools on the north shore. I realize I haven’t seen nearly as much as I’d like to and write down places of interest for my next trip. If there is one.
Pam suggests I get ahead of the situation and email my manager of the incident. Once I find my wits, I submit a formal email. It don’t take Mei-Ling long to respond. She says my no-show will go under review, but she appreciates my being proactive. I’m not sure what that means, or what the repercussions could be. I don’t want to lose my 78 score.
On a whim, I text the one person at Aether who has it all figured out.
She calls.
“Val?”
“You need to up your score. Pronto,” she says.
The island-high from yesterday let me forget about scores and prospects and club rules for a while. Now that I hear her arrogant voice again, though, I’m thinking this incident can be my way out.
“Two months to go. Don’t go below 75. Strategy, remember? I’m counting on you—our team is counting on you. Here’s what you do, when you get onboard, take a pic of the manifest and send it to me.”
“What, why?” My temples throb. Always some kind of game with her.
“Do this for me,” Val says. “A no-show like this will tarnish your record and won’t look good for the team. I need you to be seen as reliable if you’re to be my liaison. On Wednesday the 29th we’ll make it official in PHX at the next meeting. I can’t have you losing points right beforehand.”
“Fine,” I say. Because I don’t know what she has in mind or how to get out of it.
Later when I get my reassignment, I board Flight 93 to PDX (Portland, Oregon,) where I’ll make a connection to DCA. Because my score is Future Star status, I’m assigned the first-class cabin on my own. And as instructed, I snap pictures of the manifest and send them to Val before takeoff. A few minutes later I get a reply:
Seat 3B. Do not take no for an answer.