The Duty Straight from the Bowels of Hell

You’re a Flight Attendant. Strutting through the Terminal to your aircraft. You’re feeling glamourous and you know you look good in your uniform. You’re going to join a Tech Crew who look drop dead gorgeous in their uniforms and, together, you’re going to fly on a beautiful shiny jet to take beautiful shiny - and benevolent - passengers to their beautiful shiny dream destination.

What could go wrong?

Melissa tells a story of one her duty days that was probably one of, it not the worst, of her career. It’s unbelievable that all the things you are about to read happened in just the one duty. But there it is, in her diary. Most don’t experience these things in their entire career - let alone in the one day!

Oh so young, so full of energy… and no idea what’s about to happen.

In February 1989, I was ‘On Call’ meaning I was rostered no duties other than to be by the phone just in case I was needed.

In the pre-cellphone era, this was quite the commitment as we had to remain within hearing distance of the landline phone. Even popping out to the garden was a risky move. Some of us had pagers. A nifty tool which meant we could nip out to the supermarket, but still had to be able to be close to a public phone, just in case we were ‘paged’.

As it was, I was deep in sleep when the phone rang at 7am. A fellow flight attendant had had an accident on the way to work and the flight she was to crew departed in one hour – to Sydney.

I leapt from my bed as though stung and rushed into the shower. Departure time was 8am. It took me 30 minutes to get to the airport from where I lived. A small blessing was that it was a Saturday morning so traffic wouldn’t be so heavy. I drove like the wind to the International Airport. I parked as close as I could and trotted in my heels into the terminal and straight through immigration. There was no security, as we know it, in the good old days and the officials just nodded at me as I went straight to the gate.

I boarded the aircraft just as the traffic staff came out of the flight deck and the forward door was closed behind me. I briefly introduced myself to the purser and I was allocated a floating position in economy, to give me a chance to recover after my dash. I stowed my bags and got down to the business of preparing a noisy, happy cabin full of people for takeoff.

We pushed back from the gate on time and the Flight Attendants were moving around the cabin stowing the last of the baggage before preparing for the safety briefing. We were down in the galley getting our demo gear when a hush descended in the cabin and the lights dimmed. Passengers weren’t aware of it, but we instantly pricked our ears.

A silent aircraft is a sick aircraft.

Sure enough, the Tech Crew called the Purser, and the news came back to us that the Auxillary Power Unit, which is situated in the tail, had failed. There was no power to start the aircraft and there was neither sufficient power to keep the air conditioning units going nor the main cabin lights. We couldn’t return to the gate either, as it had already been claimed by an arriving flight and disembarking the passengers was not an option as they had all cleared through immigration. Effectively we were stuck in no man’s land, in a non-air conditioned tin can on a rapidly heating summers day.

Yay 😐.

The flight was full and as the minutes turned into HOURS, the humour within the cabin became more than fractious. We did a drink service but kept it to only non-alcoholic drinks to conserve our limited supplies of alcohol for the actual in-flight service. We also didn’t want to inject alcohol into an already testy situation.

Alcohol was being served in the business class section and just to make matters worse for the passengers up there, the senior flight attendant managed to spill the entire contents of a bottle of champagne over a business man. Think about that. Think how long it takes to empty a wine bottle! Extraordinary! He was now sitting in business class in only his blazer and a blanket as his shirt and pants were hanging in the bathroom having been washed by the crew member responsible. Fancy paying for a Business Class seat and ending up naked amongst the well dressed, and well heeled, other passengers.

Hmmm 🤔. I don’t remember him looking this good, though….

The heat inside the aircraft was intense even after we had received permission to open the four main doors, but with no wind blowing outside, inside it was decidedly not fresh. In fact, it reeked! Many of our passengers had already been traveling to get to this flight. Some had come through from the States during the night and others had driven long distances to get to this departure point.

Perfume wasn’t cutting the mustard, so to speak.

After nearly three intolerable hours, the APU burst into life and the air conditioning systems started up. The doors were left open for a little longer to make the most of circulating air and quite soon the atmosphere was altogether happier and healthier. Passengers started to anticipate the imminent departure. Shortly after, the first of the mighty engines roared to life followed very quickly by the second. We vacated our parking spot very quickly and trundled at speed down the taxiway to our departure point. After hours of trying to find things to do, we were suddenly rushing to get the safety demonstration completed and the cabin (which by now was in some disarray) cleared for take off.

It was a relief to lift off and we sat in our jump seats and harnesses coaxing more energy out of our already depleted bodies ready for the two sectors ahead.

We started to prepare for the meal service and the special meals were the first to be cooked. We had nine kosher meals for the Rabbis who had already flown several sectors up to this point. They had flown from New York to Los Angeles and then on to Hawaii before flying into Auckland to join our flight across the Tasman. We began cooking their meals and whilst they heated, we prepared the wine trolley.

A bad smell began to permeate the galley and we all sniffed the air trying to identify the smell. Was it electrical? Armpits? Smoke? The toilet?

Those with the keener (and brave) noses tracked the smell down to the oven in which the Kosher meals were cooking. The galley girl turned the oven off and opened the door and in unison we all took two steps back as an explosion of foul gasses escaped from within. Gingerly she donned her gloves and pulled one of the meals out and inspected it. We could hear popping noises coming from some of the other meals. This was not a good thing.

She next opened a cart and looked at the trays that the meals belonged to. She sighed and stood up. “These expired six months ago!”

A couple of the crew stifled shocked laughter. Straws were drawn as to who was going to break the news to the New York Rabbis. 

I made my way up the cabin and located the men. They were easy to spot with their hats and curls. I crouched down next to one of them sitting in an aisle seat and quietly explained the situation.

I smiled meekly, apologised and went down the back. Nine decidedly unimpressed passengers sat glumly and hungry amidst the other passengers who heartily tucked into their chicken meals. Being kosher food that they required, there was nothing we could do to make amends other than offer some biscuits.

After more than 24 hours in transit and four flights - NOT the three course meal you were anticipating!

As we descended into Sydney, we got news that there was to be an aircraft change for us and we would be going back to Wellington, not Auckland. We were never quite clear on the reason but what we did know was that the aircraft we were to change to had already been boarded by another crew and the plane was only waiting for us to turn up before it could leave. There was to be no rest for us today. We normally had about 90 minutes in Sydney whilst our plane got ‘turned around’. That is - got ready for its next departure. Normally, during this time, we rested and had a bite to eat and refreshed ourselves. Today things were really shaping up to be one of those days instead.

As soon as the passengers had departed, we rushed about gathering our things together and as a group of 8, we sprinted across the Terminal to our waiting plane.

We stepped on board the plane to Wellington and were met by the rapidly departing crew who had waited for us to arrive. As we moved through the full cabins with our bags, the sound of impatient sighing and images of moody passengers pointedly looking at their watches greeted us. The purser got on the P.A very quickly and apologized for the delay explaining that we had arrived only five minutes earlier on another aircraft and that we would be underway very shortly.

The forward door was closed and push back began immediately. We had no chance to check our meals or stores and we just had to go with what we had. Memories of the meal fiasco on the last flight were still fresh in our minds.

After take-off the purser came down the back saying we had a very short flight time of just under three hours and as such we would need to do a combination service. This meant that the drinks would be served with the meals – not before. As she was discussing the service we were to do, the senior flight attendant from business class came quickly to the back declaring that she had no silverware in business class and no cutlery for the passengers.

She started to fossick about in our standard units and took away one each of the coffee, tea and milk jugs. She also took a silver tray, and she swiped the cutlery from our meals and also took back up plastic cutlery. Having not managed to eat on the last sector nor in the airport at Sydney, we resigned ourselves to not eating on this sector either. We were getting very hungry now as breakfast had already been nine hours earlier and it would be at least another three and a half hours before we would get another chance.

I pulled the heavily laden drinks cart right up to the business class curtain and waited for the first of the meal carts to come up. I helped hand out the meal trays to the passengers sitting in the front rows and began to offer drinks to them as they unrolled their napkin which contained their cutlery packs. By now, there were six carts out in the cabin - two drinks carts and four meal carts - and the service got into full swing.

The galley girl was busy loading the other two carts with hot meals in the rear galley and the rest of us were in the cabin.

Just behind me a call button rang and as I applied the brake to the cart to attend to the call, another rang, and another and soon call buttons were going off all over the cabin!

It became apparent very quickly what the problem was. No forks. And we were serving a steak dinner. There wasn’t a single fork on the entire aircraft, even in the packs that the business class hostie had snaffled from our own meals. The service was turning to custard and crew morale was dropping.

Most of the meals had been handed out, there was only the last third of the rear cabin to serve and all we could say was to eat what they could with knife and spoon as we were unable to help. I kept on serving drinks and I began to pour large drinks for the passengers and give away cans of soft drinks to do my best to keep people happy.

At this point, things took a dramatic turn for the worse.

Yep! It did! 😖

Suddenly I heard an awful sound and looked to where it came from. I was trapped on the wrong side of my cart, but I managed, without thinking, to get past it very quickly as did the other crew members who were aware of what was going on.

In a window seat, near the rear, an elderly man was dying. Noisely and graphically.

He was a large man, and his face was purple, his eyes bulging, and he promptly vomited everywhere as his body lurched upwards and then backwards over his seat back, where he remained, motionless. His poor wife sat in the aisle seat and was wide eyed and paralysed with shock. The galley girl was the closest crew member and despite her tiny 160cm frame and his mighty size, she had grabbed him by his lapels and dragged him over his wife, down the aisle and into the galley. I was most impressed.

Three of us arrived simultaneously and CPR was begun immediately by two of the crew. At least half of the rear cabin knew what was going on and heads twisted and turned all over the place and all those seated on the aisles gazed back into the galley to observe the crisis. I went forward to get the Physician’s Kit from Business Class as the Purser called over the P.A for medical assistance from the passengers.

There was no response. She asked again with more anxiety in her voice and two men responded. They came down the back but neither knew the first thing about CPR as one was a Vet and the other was a Neurosurgeon.

We wrestled the Physician’s Kit open and presented it to the doctors, but the equipment needed to be assembled by skilled hands and the two men didn’t have a clue.

However, it soon became apparent that the elderly chap was dead. His eyes gazed sightlessly ahead, and his tongue bulged big and purple. There was no pulse and no reactions from his pupils. Dejectedly we stood up and looked out into the cabin. Expectant faces looked back.

The Purser called the Captain.

After discussions up in the flight deck, the decision was made to continue to Wellington as we were halfway across the Tasman anyway. The deceased was a New Zealander and there would be no gain in returning to Australia.

The Captain made a P.A stating that due to circumstances beyond our control, the service had been cancelled.

There was a very interesting reaction to the Captains P.A and activity at the rear. A passenger on the opposite aisle who had just missed out on getting his meal (the row in front had been served) was very irritated and stood up and announced that the cancellation of the service was not acceptable, he didn’t care that some old codger had died, and he had paid good money to get his meal and beer.

We stared at him incredulously, as did most of the cabin, but then there was another twist…

The man sitting directly behind him then stood up quickly and without saying a word whacked the guy in the head before sitting down again just as quickly! We nearly had a second fatality!

The two crew members assigned to the right hand side of the aircraft rushed out to deal with that altercation and the rest of us and the two medical men stood in the galley and discussed what would happen next. We talked quietly amongst ourselves as the body at our feet, the vital tension of life gone, quivered and vibrated in time with the engines. Just like the coffee in a cup onboard any plane does.

The first thing we had to do was clear the cabin of all the meal trays that were out and one by one the meal trolleys came back into the galley full of half eaten meals. The lack of forks suddenly seemed so paltry.

We had to roll the man from one side of the galley to be able to put half the carts back where they belonged, then roll him the other way so we could get the other half of the carts stowed and secure them away. It was like rolling a huge bag of potatoes, but we tried to be as courteous as possible to him. Once the cabin and galley had been cleared, we then considered what to do with the body.

We had quite a quandary. This was going to be a bit tricky to resolve. This particular B767 (ZK-NBD - of turbulence and naughty captain fame) was a hired aircraft and wasn’t set up like the others in our fleet. Normally, we had toilets at the rear of the aircraft which are ideal places for ‘unusual’ items needing to be stowed but all four toilets on this particular aircraft were in the over-wing area. We could hardly drag a huge, stained and smelly dead body half the length of a full passenger aircraft. Especially past his grieving widow! We had to stow him somewhere down the back.

An aircraft cannot land until every movable object is secure and won’t move during landing. This includes dead people. An option on a less full flight would have been to put him in the huge rubbish bin in the far corner of the galley but because the flight was so full, there was no room there.

Business class was full, and we even had passengers on the flight deck so we couldn’t even move the new widow up to either of those areas and put him back in his seat for landing. We’d already had to remove the seat cushion as he had messed himself in his death throes. We had covered the seat with a blanket, so the poor widow didn’t have to see where her husband had died.  We were left with only one option.

Yep! That tiny little seat right there!

We were going to have to sit him in a spare crew seat at the rear door. It wasn’t the safest or most ideal place to put him, but we had no other choice. The man was over six feet tall and must have weighed at least 150kgs and it took several of us to manoeuvre him onto the jump seat. We chose a rear facing seat as we didn’t use them in our normal configuration, and it was better that the crew member responsible for that door area could see into the cabin anyway.

I wedged myself into the corner between the bulkhead and the rear left door and with one foot held the jump seat down; and with both hands, held the harness as far open as I could. The two men, with assistance from another crew member, managed to move the guy across the floor in several moves and with a couple of abortive attempts first, heaved him up onto the seat. Initially he was propped up against me as they manoeuvered the lower part of his body into position and then we realigned his upper body, slipped his arms into the harness straps, fastened it under his big belly, pulled on the inertia straps to hold him secure and finished by covering him with a blanket.

It is amazing how the mind works. As soon as he was covered up, the problem went away, and we continued with preparing the cabin and passengers to land as though nothing had happened.

One of the crew members had been delegated to take care of the widow throughout the flight from the moment her husband had died. The widow was aware of what had happened and was quietly grieving. At some point during the drama, some thoughtful hostie had retrieved the old guy’s dentures (which had been taken out during CPR) and had slipped them into the widow’s handbag for safekeeping. It was just a shame that she hadn’t mentioned it to anyone.

We landed on time into Wellington, thanks to a brisk westerly across the Tasman and as we taxied into the terminal, several crew were out of their seats and preparing for the unusual disembarkation of the passengers. The galley was closed off and the hostie looking after the widow returned to her side and helped her get ready to disembark.

The authorities in the terminal had been alerted to the death and the widow’s son had been located in the terminal and was being brought to the plane to help his Mum. The police were also present.

The widow was the last to get off the plane and as she stood up to leave, two regretful things happened. First, the senior flight attendant from business class, who had not been involved with the drama, suddenly thought it would be a nice idea if the widow could say one last farewell to her husband and said as much.

Just as the widow was considering this thought, we were almost pantomime-like behind her trying to convey silently to the hostie that it was NOT a good idea! The guy looked shocking. He had vomited, defecated and urinated as he died. His eyes and mouth were wide open, and his tongue was protruding. He was definitely not viewing material!

Much to our relief she chose not to see him. Secondly, she was asked for her passport and she opened her purse. Her late husband’s choppers were grinning right back at her! She got an immense shock and started to cry. Her son held her, and they were taken off the plane and ushered through customs and immigration.

We left the body at the back and collected our things and flopped into business class seats whilst we waited to be questioned by the police. Because everyone seemed to know about the body, we assumed everything was being taken care of appropriately but unfortunately the caterers hadn’t been told.

When we had fastened the deceased into the inertia seatbelt for landing, it had stopped him slumping forward whilst the aircraft was moving forward. However, on landing and braking, his body had pressed into the bulkhead behind him with the g forces of braking. This released the inertia lock and as the plane then accelerated to taxi to the terminal, his lifeless body fell forward slumping against the rear door. The blanket slid off him and his lifeless, clouded eyes and slack jawed expression faced towards the door, held back from sliding completely to the floor by the limit of the harness’ ability to extend.

Unfortunately, this was the door used by the catering crew.

What made things worse was the design of the door on the B767s. Once the door was unlocked, from the outside you had to bend right down and effectively heave the door up on its’ tracks and it disappeared into the ceiling.

As we sat up the front waiting to be interviewed by the police, we rested our sore feet and recounting the horror day we had just experienced. We nibbled on biscuits, the first food in over twelve hours.

Our chatter was pierced by a bloodcurdling scream from the rear “Oh my God!!”

A young catering guy had just come face to face, at very close range, our dead guy in all his deathly glory!

As it dawned on us what had just transpired, we looked at each other and simply fell about in near hysterical laughter as the tension of the day from hell was released.