February 24th, 1989
On the train…
It’s twelve forty am on Friday night (I guess technically Saturday now) and I’m on the train. After observing some of the human behavior on display in this late night carriage teeming with people (not to mention the putrid smells) I’ve concluded that if I were a newly arrived alien, I’d waste no time in returning to the planet from which I came!
Sitting across from me is a couple who have literally not stopped kissing for the last ten minutes. I shall deny all and any knowledge of CPR when one of them finally keels over from lack of oxygen. Needless to say, I am not in uniform.
It’s interesting being on the other side of such a glaring display of affection (more like obsession with these two.) It makes me think of Ben and how we might appear together to others when we steal the odd kiss or two within public view. I tend to get so caught up in him when we’re together that I never pause to think about how we look together, but thanks to slobber mouths, I think that just changed.
I can’t help but wonder what Ben might be doing in Italy at this very moment. He may still be on airport duty or possibly at a party somewhere, then again probably not as Saturday is his busiest day of the week when the new tourists arrive. He’s probably already in bed.
Finished off week four with a visit to TriStar House, which is where I’ll be checking in, for the first time, on Sunday. The building is huge and I have to admit it felt a bit daunting watching the ease with which crews were coming and going, but I know in no time I’ll be doing the same.
First order of business, right as you enter TriStar House, before briefing, is to drop off your suitcase to one of the many people that work in the luggage area. There’s a yellow label we attach to our checked luggage, on which we write the three-letter airport code and flight number of our destination. Hopefully that info is enough to ensure its safe arrival! Company regulations call for the use of either a Samsonite (my choice) or a Delsey suitcase and from what I saw today, it was mixed.
It was pretty amazing being in TriStar House, kind of the heartbeat of the airline when you think about. It’s where each and every cabin crew member and flight deck crew on every British Airways flight departing LHR checks in. After dropping our luggage off, we check in at the crew desk to find out which briefing room we’re in and then we meet the rest of our crew and after briefing, head out to the aircraft on the shuttle bus.
I didn’t expect to be going out after class, but Carl suggested we should all go out for a drink to celebrate our upcoming first flights. Only a few from our group didn’t join us at the Green Man and that was only because they have their first flight tomorrow morning.
Just as Carl and I were getting out of his car, a British Airways Boeing 747 flew overhead and we both let out a cheer. Carl agreed with me that there’s something really exciting about being so close to the different types of aircraft and the possibility of where they can take you.
Sam and I were the first to leave the Green Man and we had a great laugh together walking to Hatton Cross. On the tube, we met a few Aussies who had just arrived from Sydney.
“Which airline did you fly with?” Sam asked.
“Oh, Qantas mate, the only airline worth flying. The flights were chockers but ripper.”
“I see. Doesn’t British Airways fly that route?”
“Yeah but, no offense, I heard they were a bit stuck up.”
“Interesting,” Sam said.
Sam and I stood up as the tube pulled into the station at Green Park.
“Enjoy your time here,” Sam said.
“Yeah mate, thanks. By the way, what time is it?”
Sam looked at his watch. “It’s just after ten, on Tuesday night,” he said with zero expression as we stepped onto the platform. We linked arms and when I glanced at him, his expression was one of glee.
Must stop writing…looks like tonsil hockey is over and the lovebirds are now in disagreement over who loves who more. This might be worth watching!