© KENNETH E. HALL 5 June 2014 Houston
[БОРИС и Кошка патрульный]
In the somewhat carefree, or certainly less uptight days before 9/11, my company offered daily non-stop DC-10 service from Houston to Paris, Charles deGaulle Airport. Back then, we were treated much like wayward stepchildren by the French airport authorities (ADP), who never seemed to figure out just why we were there, or what we were doing. Our daily arrivals came as a complete mystery to them, and they were always quite put out about each and every need or request we might make - large or small. It is a wonder that they even allowed us to land at all.
When we did land, we were usually relegated to a remote part of the airport, far away from the terminal, at what is known in the industry as a "hard-stand." This was done perhaps to keep any Yankee germs from contaminating la Belle France. Access is by bus only - no terminal nearby, no jetway to shelter passengers and crew from the elements, and no ready-access to company personnel who processed and checked in the customers.
When boarding, constant communication with our gate people is super important. On every flight, each crewmember has specific duties to perform. On this day, as I had often done before, I was in charge of greeting and boarding the passengers for their Houston-bound flight. It was full, as usual. One-by-one, the buses pulled up, and up the stairs came the passengers.
The first ones come bounding out of the gate like thoroughbred racehorses who had been chaffing at the bit. They charge up the stairs and make a mad dash for their seat, often pushing their desperate way through the flight crew. The main flow of passengers comes next, followed, only after an appropriate lengthy wait for effect, the last passengers who demand and expect their flight not only wait for them, but to delay their entire system because they do not choose to adhere to mere airline schedules.
There are people in this world who somehow feel the overwhelming need to bring an inordinate amount of attention to themselves during check-in, boarding, and subsequently throughout the rest of the flight. It's what they do. They enjoy the attention from their captive audience. On nearly every flight, there is at least one... that one passenger who just somehow has to be noticed, one way or another. They usually come on among the very first, so as to attract more attention, make a grand entrance by kicking up some fuss or histrionics and drama at the main door of the aircraft - to boldly announce to the crew and to the rest of their fellow passengers, that Royalty has arrived, while artfully impeding the orderly flow of passengers who just want to get on and to sit down.
One of the first people to mount the flight of air stairs on this day was an older woman with a huge bundle under her arm, and a big wide hat atop her head. Aunt Clara had arrived! I greeted her and looked at the bundle beneath her arm to discover it was a kennel - furnished with the most beautiful white Persian cat I had ever seen. It's eyes of china-blue would make even Vincent vanGogh blush with shame!
"What a beautiful cat!" I exclaimed, as I took her ticket and told her where to find her seat...
CAT!?!?!?
Wait, just a minute... but our company rules say no transporting of live animals in the cabin on international flights - except for service animals such as seeing-eye dogs, etc. I asked her to wait for a moment so I could check with our International Service Manager, who (SURPRIZE!) was nowhere to be found. Meanwhile, the stairs became full with passengers climbing up, and waiting. Another bus was just now pulling up with more people. There was no place to put Aunt Clara to wait out of the way of the flow of traffic. How I get into these situations, I'll never know.
So I had to tell her to board the aircraft, and I'd have management deal with her later - we had a plane to board. In a few minutes I located the manager and told her about the issue.
"Why did you let her in?" she asked, "You know the rules!"
"Where would you like me to put her? With that stupid kennel, she was blocking up everything." I explained, "and besides, the gate agents would never have sent her down with that cat if it wasn't allowed."
So she went back to see the lady, and returned immediately, somewhat flustered. "She doesn't speak English, and that kennel won't fit under her seat or in any of the overhead bins. It can't go on a seat: it's a full flight! That cat has to go underneath in the cargo hold, that's all there is to it."
[And the staff at Charles de Gaulle Airport issued her a boarding pass and let her come all the way up to the airplane to let US deal with it! God, I love my job!]
So I went to the back to see Aunt Clara, and I explained the situation to her in French, only to be met with a blank stare. "Vous parlez FRANÇAIS, non?" I asked.
Blank stare.
I tried German, Spanish, Italian, then Portuguese. Nothing.
"Вы говорите по-русски?" (Do you speak Russian?) I tried. SUCCESS! She speaks Russian. So I explained to тетя Клара (Aunt Clara in Russian) the situation about her cat and the too-big kennel, the full flight, and how Boris (not his real name) would need to go as cargo.
"Как груза? Абсолютно нет! - As CARGO? ABSOLUTELY NOT!" came her strongly-worded response, accompanied by an indignant look Catherine the Great would have been proud of.
♕
Since the gate agents caused this problem initially, they would need to come on board and resolve this impasse. Problem was, nobody spoke Russian. They called ADP for an interpreter and one was dispatched forthwith, in the form of a lady from Poland. Polish has similarities to Russian, but by no means are the two languages mutually understandable. It turns out that my Russian was better than the interpreter's, and better than anyone else at Paris' showcase world-class airport - - and once again I was in charge of dealing with Aunt Clara.
But there was brewing yet more trouble, which starts with a "T" - right here - in River City: a passenger sitting directly in front of my Russian lady began to have an allergic reaction to the cat! Just what we needed! To make matters worse, there was a group of about a dozen or more folks from New Orleans, taking up the seats just in back of the old lady. They were very upset about the cat, too, and even more antsy about taking off on time. They were gradually getting boisterous and vocal about that. (Being from New Orleans, I found it very odd that anyone from there would be loud or boisterous!)
Boarding had been nearly completed, and it was obvious that we were going to take a delay if we didn't get this woman - or her feline - or BOTH off the aircraft post haste. But there she sat immovable, arms crossed defiantly, a scowl on her face.
There was a man who was supposed to be seated, but he stood in the aisle in a quandary because the cat kennel was in his seat. He was French, and so quite reserved, but even a Frenchman can be moved to protest under the right conditions... These were they.
The allergic woman now became very vocal in her protest, and this one loud-mouthed, obnoxious wise-guy from New Orleans (I know the type!) joined in and began to lead a chorus of JEERS against the hapless Babushka!
"LEAVE! LEAVE! LEAVE! LEAVE!" the whole delegation from New Orleans began shouting in unison, joined in soon enough by several others. It was embarrassing. I was looking around for a Candid Camera - this stuff just CAN'T be real, I thought.
Finally several gate agents arrived on the scene, had me to convince her to get up out of her seat, and eventually escorted a fuming and defiant Aunt Clara and Boris off the plane, to the wild cheers and applause of the whole cabin! It was something like I had never seen before!
The doors then closed, we took off without any further adieu, bid a fond "До свидания!" to Aunt Clara, Boris the Cat, and to Paris, and headed west into the sunset - toward Houston and home without incident.
Our crew all had a good laugh after we cooled off, and I was hereby officially authorized to henceforth remove any and all wayward cats - Persian or otherwise, or cat-ladies, from any aircraft in the skies, being officially appointed "Commandant of the Pussy Patrol"
________________________________________________________________________
AIRPORTS and airport frustrations:
http://kennyduke.blogspot.com/2014/06/institution-of-aggravation.html
A serious medical emergency:http://kennyduke.blogspot.com/2014/05/a-heartfelt-lullaby-tiho-noce.html
Miscellaneous stores from the Theatre of the Bizarre!
http://kennyduke.blogspot.com/2018/08/air-lines.html
September 11 - my story:
http://kennyduke.blogspot.com/2018/09/above-us-only-sky.html
An emergency landing!http://kennyduke.blogspot.com/2018/09/fate-denied.htm
Being sent home:http://kennyduke.blogspot.com/2018/10/air-lines-deportee.html
A childhood view from the ground: http://kennyduke.blogspot.com/2014/05/an-observation-autumn-1958.html
A serious medical emergency:http://kennyduke.blogspot.com/2014/05/a-heartfelt-lullaby-tiho-noce.html
Miscellaneous stores from the Theatre of the Bizarre!
http://kennyduke.blogspot.com/2018/08/air-lines.html
September 11 - my story:
An emergency landing!http://kennyduke.blogspot.com/2018/09/fate-denied.htm
Being sent home:http://kennyduke.blogspot.com/2018/10/air-lines-deportee.html
A childhood view from the ground: http://kennyduke.blogspot.com/2014/05/an-observation-autumn-1958.html
Links to all of my stories can be found here:
http://kennyduke.blogspot.com/p/welcome.html
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