My Amman Flight

Wednesday, 1st June 2005

I just returned from a lovely Amman flight I was pulled out for whilst being on Airport Standby.

Now, being on Airport Standby is quite similar to being on death row. You sign in willingly, though quite half-heartedly, knowing full well your chances of getting screwed (with a sucky flight) or getting pardoned (with a fantastic flight, like a Seoul or a long Singapore/Brisbane/Auckland) is a very, very cruel 50-50. And in the midst of all this, you know you deserve this mental torture since you signed the contract a year ago with all the woebegone flourish of your limp wrist. Then you wait and wait and wait, till the Briefing (Prison) Officer comes up to the waiting (jail) area, and calls the next death row incarcerated crew (criminal) by staff (convict) number.

And when he does, you hold your breath and wait for his next few words. The very next few words that will dramatically change your life. Well, for the next few days, at least.

Today, when my staff number was read out after just signing in a mere ten mintues ago, the numbers fell like a honed axe on dry, brittle wood.

"2-8-7-3-5....."

"ME!" I yelped, not even waiting to hear the rest of my staff number. I knew who the first few numbers added up to already. Me.

"Come with me," he said pleasantly.

"To where?" I managed to squeak out in apprehension.

"To the briefing counter, my dear," he replied.

I hurriedly stuffed my laptop back into my cabin bag and hustled over to the briefing counter, my heart actually vibrating like a supercharged Phillishave. Please..please..give me a good flight or don't give me one at all, I mentally pleaded with him. Please..please..my husband's coming home tomorrow and if you give me a lousy layover, it won't justify my not being around when he returns. Or if you give me a lousy turnaround, it won't justify my being here.

I have never sent out so many thought-pleas in one minute.

"Raihan, you're going to Amman."

And just like that, my breathing returned to normal again. Amman, Jordan's capital, is a three-hour flight away and back, which gives me at least six hours of flying time, which is better than a short Karachi or Bahrain or Muscat, which would give me about half that. Three hours of a Karachi flight is comparatively sucky considering the fact that if I did not get pulled out, I can go home after just three hours of airport standby and still get paid two hours of "flying time". Getting paid two hours for doing nothing is better than three hours of doing something till blood comes out of your ears. I hope you get my logic before blood comes out of your ears.

And with an Amman flight, I can return home today in the late afternoon, with most of my day satisfyingly used-up and do whatever I want to do with myself for the rest of today . Then greet my Azim upon his arrival from London tomorrow.

And the premium to my Amman prize was, I was operating in First Class. Which meant a better passenger profile, classier stuff and more flying pay for me. Oh and better food.

Crew were okay and I met a fellow Singaporean crew babe, Salina and the stuff we talked about just goes to show how small the world is..no matter how far away in Dubai you are. She knew people I knew, I knew people she knew, she even slapped a certain person I knew straight in the face and because of that, Salina babe, you are in my good books. A thousand points for girl power, that's what it is. Heh.

All in all, for my first Airport Standby, I was dealt a good deal.

Prada sale, here I come!