Amerikai Magyar Hírlap, 2006 (18. évfolyam, 1-50. szám)

2006-09-01 / 34. szám

Many years ago, when I was a flight attendant for MALÉV Hungarian Airlines, one of my favorite persons, a very famous Hungarian theatrical and movie actor was on my flight. After we landed at our destination, as I was standing by the door, one white­­gloved hand raised to protect the departing passengers’ heads from injury, he confronted me with a question. “You ladies fly every day on these planes in the sky where earthlings have no business to be. Aren’t you afraid of flying?” “Of course not! Not at all!” - I replied without a moment’s hesitation, but he didn’t believe me. “Come on now, I’ve been a clown for 40 years and I’m still scared to death every time I step on the stage!” He did not believe me, even though I was telling the truth. I had been flying for 15 years of my life, started when I was just 19 years old, and all that time I had been convinced that it was not in the cards for me to fall out of the sky. If I was afraid of anything, it was the customs officers, because they loved to search our bags and get us into trouble. We used to think some of them were in it for the thrill of the hunt. One of my best memories from those years is a chock-full flight to Moscow on board an old Ilyushin 18, where the pilots were wondering whether they should leave behind some of the luggage because we were overweight. But the big boss, who was a good cadre for the communists and not an aviation expert, made them take off with all the weight. As the plane taxied, we stewardesses were sitting there on the metal box holding the wines (we had no seats of our own, and the plane was full), wondering whether we were going to make it, lifting off from the ground. The pilots revved up the engines, and the huge plane shuddered as it hurtled down the runway. Those few decisive moments from one end of the runway to the other were just like in the movies, when in the instant of death your whole life runs through the screen of your mind. Those moments, they really could have been our last. One of the girls, a new­comer who was only on her third flight ever, was deathly pale, wringing her hands and saying a silent prayer. The other one, more seasoned and savvy, was cursing the general direc­tor who made us take this risk, saying, “He’ll be the death of us all, the jerk! I wish he were here with us, I’d like to see his face then...” And then there was my best friend Judith and me, having the time of our lives planning our funeral, trying to guess which cute captain was going to say the eulogy for us. We had quite a few candidates lined up, who would have had reason to mourn us with a more personal touch... No, I can say with a clear con­science that I was never afraid of flying, not even when we made an emergency landing one night in Stockholm not sure that the land­ing gear was secured, and a dozen fire trucks came to our rescue with lights flashing and sirens blaring. Not even when we had the FRADI soccer team on board a small charter plane on our way home from Bilbao, and we started losing fuel and oil over the Alps in the middle of the night. It was a beautiful night with a full moon, and as we looked out the window we could see the oil trickling down the wing, sparkling like quicksilver. The pilots had to shut . down one of the two engines, but still, the plane could have caught fire any minute... No, I was not afraid of flying, not even when after nine years of “no incident”, we lost two planes in three weeks time in 1971. Kiev and Coppenhagen. We were so busy flying we barely had time to go to the funeral between two flights, and perhaps that’s what carried us through the worst of it. Gabi - a beautiful flight attendant of Malev’s new generation Keeping busy, doing what we do, life goes on, everything is going to be all right as long as we keep flying! * * * But times have changed and the odds have changed for the worse. When I left the airline I felt no longer protected by a cocoon, flying as a passenger. I was still not afraid but I felt like a fallen angel, I no longer had my wings and anything could happen to me now. Still I could go visit the cockpit during the flight, the doors were always wide open and the crew welcomed old col­leagues. Then came September 11, 2001, and the whole world changed. We had to become aware of the extra dangers facing us in flight. We had to learn there DUNA Travel 8530 Holloway Dr. #102 W. Hollywood, CA 90069 SPECIÁLIS ÁR LAX-BUD-LAX $566.-tÓI +TX. az ár szeptember 3-tól érvényes Információért hívják ZSUZSÁT TEL: (310) 652-5294 FAX: (310) 652-5287 1-888-532-0168 The English Page of the Hírlap can serve as a bridge between the non-Hungarian-speaking members of the family and the community. Use it to bring people to­gether! Subscribe to the Hírlap! Advertise your business in the Hírlap! If any questions or sug­gestions, please call (323) 463-6376 are people - millions of people - who hate us and our whole Western civilization so much they are willing to give their lives in order to kill us, the more the better. Travel hasn’t been the same ever since, more hassle, more restrictions, higher prices, more delays, sometimes sheer paranoia. It took us five years to recover from the shock of those air­­| planes used as lethal weapons, 1 flown into the World Trade I Center. Yet we did recover. I Americans are resilient, they have the will and the strength to turn things around. On the eve of the fifth anniversary, flights were full again, travel to Europe picked up, travel agencies were doing better than ever. They were just about to allow our nail scissors back on board when the London scare pushed us back to the darkest pits of hell. About two dozen Pakistanis were planning to blow up a dozen planes using liquid explosives, carried on board in bottles of soft drinks, combine the ingredients and deto­nate them with their cell phones or digital watches. We all know what happened next. No more drinks, no more cosmetics, no more cell phones, no more cameras in the carry­­on. Airlines can decide no more carry-ons at all. Shoes off, jackets off, pockets emptied for inspec­tion. Anything on the blacklist found in your bag, you’ve seen the last of it. And on the plane too, you better behave! A man gets into an argument with a flight attendant, they take him away in chains on arrival. A person spends too much time in the lavatory, they make an emer­gency landing, just in case. These are the times we live in... * * * Last week I took a trip to Las Vegas, my favorite place in the whole wide world. We work so hard, my husband and I, we need a little relaxation every few months. I made reservations for both of us, but Julius couldn’t make it, so I was traveling alone. I was flying out of Burbank, on Southwest, and that took all the hassle out of travel. Julius dropped me off at the airport an hour and a half before the 3:05 p.m. departure time. Res­ervations made on the Internet, boarding card in hand, I could have walked straight to the gate had I not had to check my luggage in. I usually take my small carry­­on with me, that way it’s sure to arrive and I don’t have to wait for it when I get there. But now, with the new rules, I had to check it in. Other than that, I was looking forward to a smooth and enjoyable flight. The girl at the counter took my ID and boarding card, entered the data, looked at her computer screen and a frown appeared on her face. “You know, your flight has been cancelled for technical rea­sons.” It hit me like lightning out of a blue sky. “Cancelled? So what happens now? Will you put me on the next flight? When is the next flight?” I knew Southwest had a flight to Vegas every hour, but what if the next one is full? “I’ll do better than that. I’ll put you on the flight before, the two o’clock plane that is departing in about fifteen minutes.” “Oh that is great! Then there’ll be no waiting at all, and I get there even sooner than I had hoped. But what about the luggage? Will it make it to this plane?” “You have a good chance that it will. Just go to the gate and hope for the best.” I breezed through security, and my open tote bag was so much lighter than usual, without the bottle of water and the bottle of home made coffee that I always take with me. Hardly any food either, when I’m in Vegas I can never eat until the third day, I am simply not hungry. I felt really light and good and thankful for the lucky break I got. There was one thing though: instead of the “A” boarding card printed out at home, I got a “C” as a last minute arrival. Southwest has open seating, so that meant I would not get a window seat, and would have to take whatever is left after everyone else was seated. No matter, I had put my camera in the luggage anyway, so I won’t miss anything if I take no “wing shots” this time. I just have to pick good neighbors, so as not to be squeezed in between two fat passengers for an hour. Row 8 looked good, there was a slender, all-American blond girl by the window and a thin young man in the isle seat, with an empty seat between them. I grabbed it. The young man was nice enough to say he would move over, and he did, so that I got the isle seat. I slipped the tote under the seat, fastened my seat belt, and hung Birdie on the latch that holds the table. Birdie is my con-AMERICAN Í Hungarian Journat Malév IL 18 (1960’s - 70’s) Malév Boeing 737 Malév LI 2 (1960’s) Malév Tupoljev 154 (from 1970’s) Are You Afraid of Flying? By SUSAN JANCSO I............- .................................-............... I, I Szeptember 1, 2006

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