Pan Am Unbuckled: A Very Plane Diary (11 page)

“Fasten up” he said “And whatever happens, don’t touch anything.” So I folded my hands in my lap and clutched my knuckles. He said it was a quick descent. I didn’t have the experience, then, to estimate how fast we were going down. Soon enough, our wing tips were below the height of the mountain peaks on either side of us. We floated over Kowloon and onto the runway at Kai Tak airport. It was unbelievable! At that moment I understood why pilots liked to fly.

The minute we landed, the captain got me back in my jump seat and the first officer got back in his. I was on the right hand seat now and could see sampans and ships of all sizes in the bay—and all of Hong Kong lit up in neon lights.

Unlike the airport in New Delhi, Hong Kong was modern, bustling, fully air conditioned and jammed full of shops. Shopping started the moment we touched our toe down in Hong Kong. (I later told my mother that I wish I had had every nickel I had ever had in my whole life in my hand— to spend in Hong Kong.) The captain told me “Before you go shopping, talk to me.” Turned out, he had contacts for Mikimoto pearls, Rolex watches and Louis Vuitton luggage—the real stuff. I didn’t need another bag and I already owned a watch…but I could never own enough pearls.

Layover was at a hotel near the Peninsula Hotel, on the Kowloon side. We each had individual rooms—which looked like berths on a luxury yacht. In addition to the shopping, the reason crews liked Hong Kong was because of the atmosphere and the lifestyle we could have while there. And that meant grand Marnier soufflés for dinner and orange cointreau pancakes for breakfast— for free—on the patio of the Peninsula Hotel. The Peninsula Hotel was one of the ‘grande dame’ hotels of the world…along with Shepherd’s in Cairo, Raffles in Singapore, and George V in Paris. Wealthy travelers knew to order the orange pancakes for breakfast, even though it wasn’t listed on the menu. And it turned out that savvy business men knew they would be dining vicariously in the company of stewardesses. The sight of Hong Kong harbor from the breakfast terrace of the Peninsula Hotel was unmatched—360 degree sweep of the whole bay.

I followed the captain’s advice on places to shop and ended up with some great deals—which included my Pan Am discount on a Sony clock radio and a Nikon camera. The camera came with a 1.2 lens and the Sony clock radio was made out of rosewood. My Beirut, handcrafted, red suitcase was getting heavier and heavier.

The crew dinner that night was on-board a Saipan restaurant in a bay around from Victoria Peak. I barely ate anything. It was starting to catch up with me—I was tired and a little bit on overload from all of the sights and experiences. I missed out on one whole day in Hong Kong—sound asleep in my little berth room— with the air-conditioning on full blast! I also started to worry about how much money I was spending.

One of the least expensive and most fun things to do in Hong Kong, was taking the second class lower deck of the Star Ferry. The ferry left Kowloon to go to the Hong Kong side about every ten minutes and went the whole width of the bay— with all of the sights and sounds— for the equivalent of an American Nickel. In later years, every time I returned to Hong Kong, I rode the Star Ferry 2
^nd
class, because it was so much fun watching the common people commute with their goods and animals.

The next day, in the late afternoon, we headed back to Bangkok. By this point in my pattern, I had mastered my French foreign language flight announcements. And, for the first time, on the flight back, I had to change the flight number from Flight 2 to Flight 1 in French.

Part 3

Perks & Quirks

Pan Am provided special opportunities for it’s crew in the form of free flights, personal leave-of-absences and other special benefits. This section shares with you some of the ways that I benefited from these ‘Perks and Quirks’.

It has been a pleasure serving you

Il a été un plaisir de vous servir

Это было очень риятно служить вам

ASV

Pajama Flight

My Pan Am ID card was my pass to the world! When I wasn’t operating a trip, I could, on my own time— thanks to a very generous travel benefit policy— go virtually anywhere in the world by just showing my Pan Am ID card. Other airlines honored it, too, by offering huge discounts on their fares. But, on Pan Am, we boarded on ‘space available basis’ for free. In the 1960’s, there were some restrictions on the number of flights we could take. But, eventually, it became a limitless benefit. Additionally, if we were unmarried, our parents and siblings flew, without limits— for free. After we were married, Pan Am included our spouse and children in the benefit. The one caveat was that you could not use these benefits until AFTER you passed your six-month probationary term.

I may be accused of breaking a few rules and pushing the envelope when I took a particular night-flight in September of 1969. It had been a sweltering day in New York City — 83 degrees in the shade, and the humidity felt like it was above 70 percent. That night in the apartment with no air-conditioning and the only breeze coming from our small fan, we came up with a scheme. My roommate, Robbie, who was a veteran Pan Am flight attendant of 2 years, had an idea that I should not spend my next 6 days of time-off sweltering in NY when I could spend it in San Francisco with my college boyfriend, Doug. So, how can I do that without spending a lot of money for a flight—when I’m still on my new hire probation? Well, Robbie knew that Pan Am was ferrying an aircraft out of JFK that night—the continuation of Flight 1 from NY to SF. This around-the-world daily flight left JFK half empty, and employees knew they could get on it and be in SF by midnight. It was Robbie’s idea, that I could get there using HER ID card. She explained to me, that it was such a common (daily) occurrence, that no-one even checked the ID’s—and “No-one would notice.” I thought, “Well, why not give it a try?”

I was already in my pajamas by the time we came up with the scheme. It was late at night and a very short time before the flight was to leave. So, to save time, I threw a trench coat over my pajamas and rushed to JFK. When I got to JFK, I acted like I knew what I was doing. And, sure enough, they let me on with Robbie’s ID—no questions asked.

I slept most of the trip—on three rows across—with my trench coat buttoned and tied around my waist, and didn’t really think too much about it until it was time to get off the plane. My boyfriend wasn’t even awake yet when I arrived on his doorstep, and his roommate let me in.

My time in San Francisco was fantastic. Doug and I ended up going to Esalen at Big Sur to listen to a group of up-and-coming musicians play and sing a cappella. I will never forget hearing “Helplessly Hoping” sung by Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young— with the Santa Lucia Mountains on one side and the Pacific Ocean waves on the other. The roster of performers included many who had just come from the Woodstock Music and Art Fair the month before. We slept in our sleeping bags under the stars. One night we had fallen asleep on the top of a farmer’s hill and woke up at the bottom. There weren’t any cows at the top of the hill—but LOTS of them at the bottom.

University of Moscow

When I thought about it, I was pretty sure that the biggest reason why I got hired by Pan Am was because I spoke Russian. I had mixed feelings about that, because being a Russian speaker was the reason I got stuck at the New York (NY) base right out of training. Out of all the bases in the world, NY would have been my last choice—as I had already lived in NY and now wanted something new. But, there I was—securely based in NY. But, then, in the winter of 1970, Pan Am offered 26 Russian-speaking flight attendants an opportunity to attend the University of Moscow for two full months—and I was one of them!

At that time, Pan Am was the only American airline with landing rights for Moscow. The Pan Am terminal at JFK had a special dedicated area for Aeroflot—the USSR official flagship carrier. Because of the cold war, it was necessary (and a big deal) that the US and USSR had friendly relations when it came to their airlines. I didn’t yet appreciate what value my Russian skills had, but there were only about 50 Pan Am employees system wide that had Russian language skills

Pan Am offered all 26 flight attendants tuition-plus-salary to go to Moscow, and attend what the Soviets called their “Foreign Student Exchange Program”. In our Pan Am group, I already knew one of the Russian students—Regina. Her parents were from Lithuania, and she was very eager for this chance to go back— and for the first time since her parents had fled communist takeover, perhaps reconnecting with her family. The rest of us were Americans who benefited from the public schools decision in the 1960s to offer Russian as a language. If only my Russian teacher, Mr. Martinez at Chamberlain High School, could see me now – actually going to Russia— to add to the language foundation he started.

Our Pan Am flight was met in Moscow by members of the US Diplomatic Corp. To say that our bags were scrutinized was an understatement. I don’t’ know how they missed some of the ‘contraband’ that I had in one of my suitcases— four extra pairs of Levi’s and two Beatles albums. They came in very handy later on.

Our bus stopped at the US Embassy before going to our hotel. Instead of entering through the front door of the Embassy, we were ushered around to the back and walked down the utility stairs into a basement room. The Ambassador, himself, greeted us and explained that this room in the basement was the only area in the whole embassy complex which they thought was secure. The rest of the building was constantly bombarded by radio signals, eves-dropping and spying devices. The Ambassador wanted us to understand how important it was for us to be there and how unusual it was for Americans to be in the USSR at all. He also wanted to warn us about some seamier sides of life in Moscow. One important thing: sexually transmitted diseases were rampant— especially gonorrhea. Whatever we did, we were to never go off by ourselves.

I was very shocked when he started talking about the sexually transmitted diseases, as that was not a common talking point for young ladies at that time. I had only been with Pan Am for about a year, and I still felt and acted like a new-hire. On a positive note, he wanted us to know that his office was being blanketed with invitations for us to attend various functions around the capital. But, he reminded us that we were there to go to language school, which was the priority, but that during our stay we would get to go to some of these events.

‘Intourist’ was the official travel agency of the Soviet Union, and technically, they were responsible for our group—just as they were responsible for every non-USSR visitor within the Soviet Union. Without a USSR passport, we could not enter the USSR unless we had an Intourist escort with us at all times.

Briefed, jet-lagged, and very curious, we were checked into our hotel. Our rooms were all on the same floor. The proverbial babushka was ready for us. She NEVER smiled, was NEVER friendly— but sitting in her chair at her little desk directly opposite the staircase and next to the only elevator on the floor, she made us feel safe. NO-ONE could come or go without her knowing.

Regina and I were assigned to be roommates. Later, we found out why. The Soviets were very interested in keeping track of her and me in particular— because Regina was Lithuanian, and they mistakenly thought I was the daughter of a government official. (That was funny in retrospect, as my father was anything but a government man. As an executive of the National Association of Broadcasters in Washington, DC, one might characterize him as the ultimate union guy fighting the government. He helped lobby against FCC regulations and lamented any government interference on the basis of free speech.)

It turned out that the beds in our room were nailed to the floor. We figured out that there were small cameras in the molding on the wall that were aimed at our beds. (As I recall, none of the other rooms had this special feature) Regina was trying to talk to her family via public telephones, but mysteriously, every conversation got cut off. My mother, the prolific letter writer that she was, had sent me ten letters over a six week period— all of which were given to me already opened.

Our daily routine was quickly set. The hotel rooms were spacious with 15-foot tall ceilings from which hung lovely chandeliers, and they were well heated. Breakfasts were served in a gorgeous dining room each morning complete with croissants, jams and hot chocolate. We were picked up by a bus and driven through the streets of Moscow to the university campus and then it started feeling very restrictive. As a recent college student at University of Florida, I was accustomed to coming and going and interacting with my student peers. But in this setting, we were segregated to meet only with our group. We were exclusively in the company of each other, our teachers and our Intourist guide.

The language instruction was phenomenal. It was an intense program, and I do believe we all thrived. I was listening and speaking Russian in an environment where the nuances of the language and practical experience were all brought together for me.

In terms of academics, the eight-hour classroom day was intense. They served lunch in a dormitory type building on campus. In the evening when we were taken back to our hotel I was emotionally and mentally drained. That did not deter us, however, from accepting all of those invitations that the Ambassador had told us about. We were wined and dined at the opera, ballet, symphony concerts, the Bolshoi Circus and receptions—which were huge drinking events that resembled cocktail parties.

One day I had an adventure that was not planned for me. As a group, we were going to an exhibit at the Kremlin. Instead of going by bus, we were going to ride the subway. The subways were built in Moscow to double as bomb shelters during World War II and they had high speed escalators that went down the equivalent of about 5-stories. I had a fear of heights— and here I was toward the back end of the group about to step onto the high-speed escalator. I just couldn’t do it. The next thing I know, my group is all gone, and I am standing there by myself. Even the Intourist guide was gone. I was completely on my own. Oops! That is exactly what the Ambassador told us not to do.

Taking advantage of the freedom, I turned around and walked out of the subway building into the streets of Moscow. My long suede coat, Central American hippy-styled shoulder bag, and my Nikon Camera with 1.2 telescopic lenses made me look very out of place. I thought “Wow, I can take some really neat photos.” But, what I found was that as soon as people thought I was taking a picture of them, they turned around to face away from me. They didn’t know who I was. I spoke in Russian to say I was an American, at which I got one of two distinct reactions: they ran away from me; or they would smile and try out an English phrase like “Hello” or “How are you?”

I was on my own for about an hour, just walking along the sidewalk, looking into stores and taking photographs along the way. I thought that I was being ‘a normal tourist’. I recall that the stores were product specific—a butcher, a baker, a dry-goods store, a store that sold socks, and a store that sold sweaters. Each store sold a particular thing. It seemed that the shelves were half empty. People were lined up at the doors of the shops, waiting to buy something inside. They did not peruse the shelves themselves. Someone at the counter did that for them.

It occurred to me at some point, that I was disoriented and didn’t know where my hotel was. I asked a man for directions. He told me in Russian which way to go and then frowned at me. I felt that I had done something wrong. Within a half-hour, two policemen and that same man appeared to help me get to where I wanted to go. I told them that I just needed directions, and they explained that they were there to take me back “Now.”

When the rest of the group returned to the hotel, the Intourist guide was in tears. Regina told me that she was worried that she would be fired. I phoned the embassy and told them that I didn’t want the girl to lose her job because of me—that we had been there for three weeks and she had been very nice to us—that I was still learning the lay of the land and how the system worked— and I really didn’t want her to lose her job over me. She was not fired while we were there.

The whole group had a chance to go for three days to St. Petersburg by plane. This was Aeroflot’s idea. They wanted to show off their domestic air service. The tour of the galley was a real eye-opener. They cooked the meals over open gas flame stoves, in pots that hung with chains—attached to the fuselage! Fortunately, the flight had no turbulence.

We had a wonderful time in St. Petersburg going to L’Hermitage (The State Hermitage Museum). It was a nice break from going to class every day. I often thought back on a little museum ‘The Museum of Soviet Realism Art’. It was so dramatic. We went back to Moscow by bus and spent some time in Ekaterinburg. Our guides wanted to be sure that we got to see the site where the last Russian Tsar, Nikolai Romanov, and his family were assassinated. The bus ride gave us a more personal glimpse into rural Russia which was ‘day and night’ from urban Moscow. Farming was done with horses and horse drawn carts were a common sight.