Flying with the Rich and Famous: True Stories from the Flight Attendant who flew with them (4 page)

Incidentally, many of these take-offs and landings I am usually in my jump seat between the pilots. But a passenger can sit there too, if the chief passenger and the chief pilot agree on this. Many, many times I’ve put passengers in my jump seat when there was something very special to see – Russia wasn’t one of them, at least that part of Russia. But Alaska, well Alaska is stunning!

As I’ve mentioned, when traveling around the world, I always bring staple food with us. Once when we landed in Perth, Australia, the agriculture inspector came onboard to confiscate all the food like they usually do. Most country’s including the United States confiscate food when you go through Agriculture
upon entry into a country. They usually burn it; this is standard procedure in most countries if not all of them to keep foreign bugs, pests and disease at bay. It is how they keep disease and pests from spreading around the world – think about that for a minute. Anyway, Australia is known for being more severe about it. That inspector stole my mayonnaise. The mayonnaise was not opened and the seal was intact. I was not about to let my mayonnaise go. How was I going to prepare a tuna fish sandwich if my boss wanted one? We still had a long trip ahead of us, and I might need that mayonnaise. I argued with him, he argued with me. I was pissed—he was pissed. Then my chief pilot stepped in and said, “Patty, let the mayonnaise go.” At that point, I looked up at my pilot and I realized I had to let the mayonnaise go, but as I am writing this, I am pissed off all over again.

And speaking of food, I can’t tell you how many disgusting things I’ve tried around the world. That Vegemite stuff from Australia is just gross. Apparently, it’s their equivalent
to our peanut butter, uh—not! And crocodile—mind if I barf? Kangaroo—where’s the toilet? Rabbit—that’s just not right. Snake—couldn’t pay me enough. Eel—no, thank you. Puffer fish—hmmm, shall I risk dying today?

The one common denominator in flying the rich and famous is the constant change in itinerary—and I do mean constant. I’ve had flights change more than twenty times before we actually departed, probably more. Everything can change: destination, passengers, airports, hotels, anything and everything. I never count on anything until I look the chief passenger (decision maker) square in the eye, and even then you’re almost guaranteed it will change again. I’ve been summoned at 7 p.m. for a 7 a.m. charter going to South America (I made it, great trip). I might be sound asleep in my hotel room and get a call that the passengers want to leave as soon as possible. You just never know. It’s a good thing dispatch doesn’t call the crew every time something changes or we’d never actually fly! Due to the
number of people the information is transferred thru, it can become very convoluted. If the crew is the last on list, and we almost always are, we might get to the airplane at our normal one and half to two hours before departure only to discover the passengers are waiting to depart. Uh…oops!

I’ve also re-positioned several times for charters and owners alike. Let’s say the aircraft is in Illinois and I’m in California. I get paid to fly commercially from my closest airport to the closest airport in Illinois. Literally, all I do is go to the airport and get on a plane, they pay for the ticket, transportation and my daily rate. Then I’ll work the trip, getting paid my daily rate and do the same in reverse when the trip is over. Since I love airports, this is like heaven to me - getting paid to travel!

I also used to commute to San Francisco a couple times a week for a company who couldn’t find a full time flight attendant. It started only because this company needed a flight attendant the next day and couldn’t find anyone. So I did it. They
ended up liking me, so I flew up and down the coast for several months while they interviewed other gals. I became good friends with all the United Airline flight attendants, so they upgraded me most of the flights!

The norm for me though is a nice, polite couple who just want to get to Hawaii or the Caribbean for their anniversary. They’re not demanding in the least and just want a light lunch and/or maybe a few cocktails. Then they give me a nice tip before landing and say, “See you in a week!” My two favorite pilots and I head off to a luxurious hotel where we have a fantastic week off on the company’s dollar, thank you very much.

Ok, all you wanna-be private jet flight attendants getting your resumes together—don’t bother. The industry is saturated with laid-off and experienced private flight attendants, not to mention the scores of commercial gals. Besides that, the competition is fierce and as cutthroat as one could imagine. But
heck, I made it!

Chapter 3: As the Jet Rotates

Celebrity Flights

With chartered flights you never know who your passengers will be, whereas with a corporation or individual you’ve flown with before, you’ll probably know their likes and dislikes. For instance, some owners will get pissed if you serve them “designer” lettuce or maybe they dislike tomatoes or something of that nature. And you can run into the brand problem if you fly for a corporation. For instance, if you are working on an aircraft that belongs to a food corporation, then you cannot put on any item that is in competition with those companies’ products.

You may get a bunch of spoiled rotten kids, or a group of ornery, ill-mannered adults, or a plane full of obnoxious drunks. I flew a slew of men once where every guy was so plastered that
they harassed me mercilessly and endlessly. They were becoming extremely inappropriate, so I begged the pilots to increase the cabin altitude—therefore, reducing the oxygen level—until they all passed out. On a charter for a wealthy television executive, I believe this was King Distribution, the chief passenger had ordered individual seafood platters for each person and then he ate his off the floor while lying on the couch!

I flew a charter for three men that had four “working girls” with them. They pretty much locked me in the cockpit the entire time. I really didn’t need to be there at all, but some charter outfits won’t send their 30 million jet anywhere without a flight attendant. This flight was the nastiest I had seen, or rather, heard. I heard, as did the pilots, way too much! It was kind of like; I want to listen, but it’s disgusting and I shouldn’t, but I’m curious. All three of us ended up listening as best we could.

Then again, you might get lucky and have the best group of people ever and get a handsome tip to boot. You might have
the name Mike Smith as the chief passenger on the manifest, but, in reality, it’ll be a celebrity or person of interest. It truly is like a box of chocolates, you just never know what you’re going to get! My line of work is not predictable, not in the least—you must remain flexible, and you’d better adapt or risk being grounded.

PRESIDENT RONALD REAGAN

One of my fondest memories is having the unbelievable honor of flying the late former President Ronald Reagan. I was told that this flight was “donated” for a goodwill event, something that some corporations will do. This goodwill flight was my good fortune, as I always believed President Reagan to be a visionary.

President Reagan was first an actor, appearing in more than fifty feature films. He eventually became president of the Screen Actors Guild, which led him to politics and a run for governor of the great State of California. He won that election and stayed for eight years. Then Reagan achieved the greatest
goal when he was elected the fortieth president of the United States and leader of the free world. He again served two terms and was widely respected and esteemed for creating eight years of peace and prosperity. He was definitely a most memorable presence in the White House.

I arrived at the airport hours beforehand, not wanting to miss any activity. It was an early morning flight and there was to be no food service, so the only thing I could think to do special for him was make some really great coffee. I went to my favorite high-end grocery store and studied the choices. I ended up with a vanilla bean roast, but when I made it on the airplane, my chief pilot nearly had a coronary. “Presidents don’t drink flavored coffee!” he exclaimed. I quickly poured it out and made the old standby: Starbucks.

When President Reagan arrived at the aircraft, not surprisingly, he was flanked by Secret Service, but what was surprising was that employees working at the FBO were
everywhere. It was shoulder-to-shoulder people staring back at me. This was a moment that no one wanted to miss. Gossip flies through aviation quicker than the Concord across the Atlantic—but, still, I couldn’t believe how many people were there to witness a United States president exiting a limousine to board an airplane. It couldn’t have been more than a three-minute show.

President Reagan climbed the stairs to the aircraft with his Secret Service agents and a few aides. Although he was beginning his golden years and was somewhat frail and slightly hard of hearing, I could see the wisdom in his eyes. I wanted to ask him questions—you know the kind of questions that are so beyond finding an answer to, ones I felt only President Reagan would ponder. All I could manage to get out of my mouth was, “Would you enjoy a cup of coffee?”

As I served him, I learned he was going to San Diego to deliver a short speech. We spoke briefly and somehow he turned my stumbling conversation into his genuine gratitude for the
ride. I marveled how President Reagan, considered by many to be one of the greatest presidents of the twentieth century, was so sincerely grateful for a ride!

When we landed in San Diego and he began to make his exit, he made a point to thank me again and shake each of the pilot’s hands and thank them as well. He was the most dignified person I’ve ever flown and undeniably the one I most respected.

TOM CRUISE

I received a call for a three-day charter on a Gulfstream out of Van Nuys airport. This was one of those years I was really busy. I didn’t feel like leaving so soon after my last flight, but when I am called, I go.

My first clue this might prove to be a very interesting or possibly difficult flight came with the laundry list of catering and shopping requests. The next clue should have been that I had been given two-day notice for this flight, instead of the typical
two hours. That turned out to be a good thing given the obscurity of the list; it took me that long to locate everything. Plus the catering requests were all different; everyone had asked for something eccentric and dissimilar.

Finally, I learned my passengers were Tom Cruise, his producers from one of his films, and various other hotshots. Tom Cruise! I was especially eager to meet him and anxious to bestow upon him the best possible service. While awaiting his arrival, I fluffed and re-fluffed pillows, smiling like a cartoon character and thinking how much fun the next three days were going to be.

Our first flight was five hours to the East Coast to scout movie locations. Immediately, it was apparent that the producers and assistants considered themselves genuine VIPs. They began barking orders as soon as they arrived. “Where’s an outlet for my laptop?” “Hang my coat up and don’t let it get wrinkled.” “I’ll take some water, no ice, with lemon.” “Do you have my pulp-free, fresh-squeezed orange juice?” They were all shouting
commands and questions at the same time and without so much as a please or thank you; and they all talked over each other, like each one was more important than the last. I felt like I was surrounded by a bunch of five-year-olds.

While I was running around with a wrinkle-free coat on my arm, pointing at outlets, answering questions and serving drinks, the man who felt he was in charge—whom I dubbed “Mr. King Bowtie” to myself—said, “We are in a hurry and need to take off immediately.” I thought,
Maybe if you weren’t over an hour late, Mr. King Bowtie, we’d be on time!
I secured the cabin for takeoff while everyone glared at me, perturbed that I didn’t ignore the pulled out tables with the contents of their carry-ons strewn everywhere. Exhausted, I sat down for takeoff. Uh-oh. This charter was going to be
work
.

Well before the captain turned off the seatbelt sign, the barking began again, except for Tom. What made me notice him was that he extended me the basic courtesy of “please” and
“thank you.” That and, of course, his huge, warm, comforting Tom Cruise smile.

While constantly running to and from the galley, meeting demands for more pasta for one guy, separate plates for another, and trying to determine how fruit should be cut to qualify as “bite-sized pieces,” someone stumped me with the complaint that his chicken wasn’t “pink” in the middle.
Wow. Sorry sir, not serving salmonella today
. I glanced at Tom who smiled sympathetically. Momentarily, I was caught in his glow, but it quickly passed when someone yelled, “No ice, with lemon.”

Finally, the meal service was over and I had cleaned the galley. Frazzled, I poured myself some coffee, and then I heard from the passenger I dubbed Mr. Tighty Whitey, say: “Stewardess, I’m still hungry.”
Mr. Tighty Whitey, you better get some bigger undies, ‘cause I just fed you, and about that stewardess word…
(A stewardess works on a yacht).

Meanwhile, Tom Cruise had taken his food and drink
anyway it came out of the galley. Because he was so easy to please, I ended up giving him better service than the rest. I don’t know if that was an unconscious “rub” to the other passengers, or because he was Tom Cruise. Whichever, he deserved it for being the only gentleman. He even asked, “How do you remember who is drinking what?” “How can you carry all those dishes in high heels?” “What if we hit turbulence, won’t you topple over?” I laughed and thought,
Well Tom, vanity trumps practicality
.

After food service and a tiny bit of calm, Mr. Tighty Whitey asked me to remove the brown M&Ms from the candy dish! I stood there totally bewildered. I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. So, I said to myself:
Fine, Tighty Whitey, OMG! I feel sorry for your wife. I’ll remove them
. I went into the galley and began to throw M&Ms into the trash, missed and flung them all over a forty million dollar galley, not even caring that maintenance would read me the riot act for littering in their baby. Unbelievable. What the hell is wrong with these
people? Only when I realized that I hadn’t washed my hands, did I crack a smile. My mouth took on a maniacal grin and I began to chuckle, just thinking of all the disgusting oozing germs I hoped I was getting all over his candy. Then, in the midst of my breakdown, I looked up and saw Tom Cruise snickering at me. Our eyes met, and I knew he understood.