More Confessions of a Hostie by Danielle Hugh Read Free Book Online Page B

not boarding an aircraft if one has offensive body odour. Now, more than ever, do I think that ‘passengers must have acceptable body odour’ should be printed in bold on the front of every ticket.
    Before the lovely elderly couple need to return to their seats for landing, I make sure they receive a little wedding anniversary ‘gift’ on our behalf to take with them. Our onboard manager knows exactly how difficult it has been for the passengers, particularly those in the back few rows, and allows me to also give each person in the back three rows, with the exception of you-know-who, a ‘gift’.
    It is not the circumstances, but how you react to them that defines whether you are happy or not. For all the trauma, drama and discomfort they have endured, the passengers are still happy, at least with the cabin crew’s performance. They are aware that the flight could have been plain sailing, but it wasn’t. However, they are also aware the crew did everything we could to make the flight as comfortable as possible for them, and for that the passengers are thankful and tell us so. It is refreshing to have such appreciative passengers on the flight.
    â€˜The deepest principle in human nature is the craving to be appreciated,’ William James has observed.
    I may smell like a sewer and am worn-out, but knowing that I have made a difference and that difference has been appreciated makes me immensely happy as well. William James knew what he was talking about.
    It is a pity that this feeling won’t last though. As soon as I land, I will have to spend my time in Japan with my face buried in piles of emergency-orientated paperwork. I would have really liked to let my hair down and a have a big night out. But a girl’s got to do what a girl’s got to do. And this girl’s got to work now.
    The older I get, the more sensible I am becoming. It’s a shame, really.

time spent laughing is time spent with the gods – the japanese say so
    We land in Narita early in the morning, Japan time. It is the land of the rising sun and I have witnessed yet another sunrise. I have worked a long and arduous day, and without any breaks. I fall asleep on the bus ride from the terminal to the hotel.
    In most major cities around the world, the airports are generally located some distance from the city centre. This means that we have to endure long bus rides to our hotel. Narita is, however, only ten minutes away from our hotel. Tokyo’s airport was built just outside the village of Narita, and consequently hotels and infrastructure for transiting passengers and tourists were built nearby. For someone who struggles to fall asleep at the best of times, I am perplexed at how I manage to fall asleep on a ten-minute bus ride, but I do.
    My body is still screaming for sleep when I get off the bus, but as soon as I walk into my hotel room, I head to the bathroom. I turn on the shower to the strongest water pressure I can get – in Japan, this is just a dribble. What the shower lacks in pressure I make up for in heat. I make it as hot as I can tolerate, then take up residence. I have had long showers before, but this would rank as one of my longest. On the plane I was engulfed by every toxic smell known to man and although liquid soap and my (expensive) perfume have helped a little, I still feel like the bad odors have penetrated into my soul.
    Two bars of soap and a container of body-wash later I make my way out of the shower to dry off. I douse myself in the most fragrant moisturiser and deodorant I can find in my toiletry bag, and then splash on the last few drops of my perfume. I slide under the sheets, totally exhausted, but smelling like Coco Chanel’s rose garden. I should fall asleep straight away. I don’t.
    I take a sleeping tablet and have my obligatory four hours of sleep. I need more, but four hours it is.
    When I wake up, it is early-afternoon. I draw back the curtains and observe