The FA bailed again! Claimed her ear trouble popped up once more and she had to get off the trip. Suddenly it dawned on me that it wasn’t a relapse at all. She’d been living out of her feed bag. This in itself is not unusual. Many thrifty folks brownbag. I do as well. Leftovers, sandwiches, fresh fruit, trail mix, water bottles. I load my roller bag. Terminal food can be mediocre and pricey. I can actually pack for 2, even 3 days. In Jan’s case it was from need. Payday was just a few days ago but I don’t think she had any cash left and if this was true, she was also out of food and wondering how she was going to face the day. Sorry I didn’t recognize her plight ’till too late. My bad.

My company has been trying to emulate the success model of a particular airline with the initials SW. Known for the ability to turn a flight on a dime we strive to match their efficiency. Our initiative is called a Goal 25. It used to be a Goal 20 but nobody could ever achieve that one so they made it a Goal 25. The idea is that from the time that the aircraft pulls into the blocks – disgorges passengers, bags unloaded, serviced, re-fueled, provisioned to when the door is again closed and ready to depart with a new load of people – that no more than 25 minutes elapses. Hustle.

We lost our FA. Well, we knew it was coming. She’d been saying how that pesky cold was coming on and her ears were bothering her during the climbs and descents. In fact she relayed an amusing story. The FA jumpseat (she rides backwards) faces the first class pax. She watches them and they watch her (when they aren’t otherwise absorbed in their newspapers). I guess during an episode of trying to equalize she suffered some discomfort resulting in watering of the eyes. A front row pax saw the tears and assuming the worst asked her sheepishly, “Are WE okaayyyy?” No telling how they must have agonized over what horribly onerous piece of information that the FA certainly MUST know but was keeping within. No folks, if there is something wrong with the airplane the FA’s job is to brief and prepare everyone, not internalize. This morning she bailed out.

The FA giggled and was wiggling her polished toes. No, this is not a hot tub story while on layover. She was right behind me at 5:30 am in the sreening line retrieving her removed shoes. I saw two of them poking through the hole in her hose. She was actually proud to display them and not embarrassed. I should have glanced up at the TSA watching the diversion to see if he was amused (or not).

Fuzzy Dice, Dingo Balls swinging from the rearview mirror — my FO brings SpoongeBob SquarePants with him. SpoongeBob enjoys the ride height and view from a window ledge mounted ashtray. In the shuffle of airplane swaps yesterday, SpoongeBob stayed behind in his perch. He is on an adventure…

On an airport appreciation break and trying to escape the usual food haunts my crew and I wandered over to big brother’s cafeteria. This a foreign land and our uniforms make us obvious. Careful with the eye contact so as not to meet an evil eye stare challenge we lean against the wall outside the security door. Some good folks come along allowing us to tailgate inside. The obliging Captain (with the door keycode) recognizing our hat emblems remarks smartly. “oh I see how it is… If (when) you guys cut away from big U… how you guys gonna eat?” I didn’t know. And was that figurative — get thru the door to the buffet? or literal — put it on the table?

Enthusiasm is the best way to explain it. Since the announcement of ‘operation independence’, there is a decided shift in mood with all hands pitching in and going the extra mile to get the job done right. Today after having arrived late, due to ATC and traffic congestion, we got a 19 minute turn (a pitstop — from arrival to departure — deplaning, general servicing, re-fuel, and reboarding). At-a-way!

You can now print out your BOARDING PASS prior to leaving home base via your desktop PC. This seemed like a good way to shorten the process. In theory you can by-pass a crowded ticket counter and bee-line for the gate. Thus, the escaltor ride up to security and our departure gate was the first adventure (pitfall) of the journey. dhs was nearly to the top of this escalator, nervously (no morning coffee yet) shuffling-juggling for the TSA agent — passport ID and E-ticket when the ticket leaped from her grasp and sailed loose – barrel rolled, and despite desperate air grabs, fell to the deck and was sucked from sight. Eaten by the moving stairs. Note to self: Use heavy bond paper in the printer next time…

Standing on the tarmac, flight bags ready, I watch our new bird pull into the gate. Gleaming new paint shines in the light and I’m feeling fortunate to be flying one of the new ones. The smile fades when I realize that this is AC 861, the aircraft that had a rough beginning: T-boned by an airport BUS, it has been rescued from the brink in an heroic salvage effort. All within its young life. We will be sure not to push the performance envelope with this one. Handle gently.

Tis’ the season and I’m carrying as much fresh fruit in my overnight bag that I can. Rather than make a mess of it in the cockpit, I step off during a lull in the action and bite into a sweet one. I was enjoying a particularly juicy bite, leaning forward at the waist to avoid drippings on my shirt or shoe tops when the passengers began to file past for boarding. I finished up quickly and cut into the line. ‘Ummmm. That looked delicious!’ remarked the woman in front of me. I was pleased that she was admiring my choice of snack and began to blurt that ‘it was a nectarine and aren’t they great and…’ she nods and reaches out and flicks a dangler from my chin. Just a wee bit embarrassing. Must have been Mother Instinct made her do that.