The Unfriendly Skies
The staff of Royal Jordanian Airlines has to
be the most unsmiling bunch of people I have ever met.
I got to Bandaranaika Airport at 4 am. Royal
Jordanian wanted a three-hour check-in. But after checking in, I had to kill an
hour eating and playing on the Internet because they don't let you through the
final security check until an hour later. I had a bad cheeseburger and fries
upstairs at the cafe.
After playing on
the 'Net, I got through the final security check and we waited a lifetime for
the plane to board. It was running late, adding to my anxiety that I might miss
my connecting flight to Tel Aviv in Amman. Most of the people waiting for the
plane were Sri Lankan women in their 20s and 30s. I think they were all heading
to make more money working in the Middle East. I read an ad in the papers in Sri
Lanka about how a lot of women who go away to work are abused by their
employers, or worse. And yet, here were scores of women heading out, hoping to
make more money.
Despite the many people
waiting for the plane, I still got an empty seat next to me. After takeoff, I
spied a whole empty row nearby, so I indicated to the man next to me, who
probably didn't know English, that I would take the seat, unless HE wanted it.
he gladly accepted a row to himself near his friends. We exchanged "salaam
aleichems" and enjoyed some elbow
room.
The flight attendants were the most
unsmiling lot I have ever seen. They all seemed like postal workers or teachers
who were being punished. When they came by with water, my stewardess simply
barked, "Maya!?" I assume that means water, since "mayim" is water in Hebrew,
and Arabic and Hebrew are not all that
different.
The in-flight magazine showed
Jordan as a nation that still includes the West Bank, and of course Israel
wasn't named, even though they fly there several times a week. Despite all of
that, the airline showed "Everybody Loves Raymond," and that was the only cheer
to be had on board.
As we left the plane,
the crew and staff stood by mutely, no one offering a "have a nice day" or
"Thanks for flying with us." This stocism continued in Queen Alia International
Airport, where the officials and store clerks working the duty-free shops at
Aldeasa also did not crack a smile.
The
transit desk was a nightmare of people on one side and just four officials
working the computers very slowly. Boarding passes were not issued ahead of time
for the flight to Tel Aviv, so at some point, I asked a woman, "Will I make my
11:30 flight... to Tel Aviv...?" I was cautious about the Tel Aviv part, since I
didn't know if it would help or hinder my chances of making my
flight.
Well, the woman, without really
saying anything, took care of it, and suddenly they asked for all the Tel Aviv
fliers to come forward. Even though there was just an hour between flights, it
seemed to take an eternity. I must confess that being a gay, Jewish American in
Amman didn't set me at ease. Plus, my gate was next to gates for Baghdad and
Tripoli. Two place I didn't want to go. We all seemed to sit forever waiting for
the plane until finally, we boarded. It was a propeller plane. I wound up
standing next to my checked luggage as I waited to
board.
The flight was short, but the poor
Israeli woman next to me was looking nervous. I thought she was afraid, so I
handed her my teddy bear, Hawthorne (a beanie baby). She said, "I'm not afraid,
I'm sick." She then sought out a barf bad. The stewardess wasn't getting up to
help us.
Luckily, the barf bag was a
good one, she had Hawthorne right under it. He remained dry. The woman was also
emotional from spending ten months in India, and she realized that "she was
home." Fortunately, an airport worker recognized her as she got off the plane so
she got a big hug immediately.
Posted: Thu - March 24, 2005 at 01:35 PM