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.
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
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