The purser was issued ten records by the company, which he had to carry in his briefcase.
(No girl pursers at this time. It was also changed by pressure of the union.)
These records were selected by some vice president of the company and disliked because of different taste, to describe it mildly. So the purser brought his own from home. This music was played at boarding in the main cabin, a wonderful gesture. But as soon as the plane stirred, caused by a strong wind or on the taxi way, the needle jumped from groove to groove producing noise in the most disagreeable way, not resembling music anymore. You could see, the nearest crew member, to the stairway, flying down to end the unpleasantness. In flight the music could also be transferred to the lower lounge only. The jumping needle had to be stopped again the moment some, even little, turbulence occurred.
(Blessed be the modern music-producing devices of nowadays!)
In other words, music was an infrequent pleasure. Airplanes are always moving, not only forward.
Herbert mixed drinks for the few passengers, down there in the bar. Luckily no one ordered an exotic beverage. To be on the safe side, he had a booklet of mixology handy just in case. Since none of the occupants there found a topic for a chat, they concentrated their attention to Herbert and took him through a third degree. It is always the same focus, where do you come from, how long are you flying, have you ever been in a crash and do you like your job? He answered courteously, they nodded and managed a faint smile but it seemed nobody listened or was not in the least interested. Only a few drinks later each one of them talked at the same time.
One traveler after another left this comfy location and climbed up to the main cabin to get some sleep. Finally the last one vanished and Herbert was glad he had survived his first encounter, to be alone with important paying guests. After all, this President Special was patronized by statesmen, film stars and super-rich VIPs.
The two hours had passed and now his rest time had arrived.
He was instructed to awaken Georgia to take her two hours of duty time.
She was in: “U 4 L” which meant Upper berth #4 on the Left side. There was, naturally, also a seat belt provided and the occupants were instructed to strap in before going to sleep. The procedure to awaken a sleeping soul was, to gently pull on the seat/bed belt and give some tugs until a response was achieved and the curtain was opened by the sleepyhead to find out what was going on.
Herbert did exactly that! He pulled gently on this belt, little by little, until he held the end in his hand. What now? Georgia was not strapped in! He put his hand very slowly in there to get a hand or arm to pull on it. In the dark he fumbled a while until he got hold of something. What’s that? It’s a bosom you idiot, it signaled up there in the windings of his brain. He pulled his hand back, very rapidly! Tooooo late! He was caught in the act. A lady opened the curtain and a pleasant voice whispered: “What is your intention, young man?”
“I, I, I made a mistake, madam,” he stuttered. And continued:
“Please forgive me,” he felt his knees shaking, afraid to collapse right then and there.
“Never mind,” this female answered. He tried desperately to identify this woman but was unable in this sparsely lighted cabin. A pen light was in his pocket as part of an item for each crew member at night time. But he wouldn’t dare to use it to put hurt into injury? To recognize this lady-passenger was futile, since he worked in the galley back there and only knew the ones that were in the downstairs bar. What should he do now? His thoughts were interrupted.
“Since you woke me up, you can bring me a glass of champagne,” this Madonna whispered.
“But of course, madam!” he countered, being joyful to do good for this understanding woman.
Rushing back to the food-preparing caboose, he did not find any open bottle of champagne. Down the stairs he ran taking two steps at a time. The thick carpet was swallowing his heavy footsteps. No opened one there either. He fumbled with trembling fingers to take the wire off the cork to open the bottle. It seemed to him as if it took forever to complete this task. He finally managed to pop it open not to let the cork fly or making a loud noise. Filling up the glass to the rim, he ran up the stairs, again with two steps at the time and slipped, because he took two and a half steps. The coordination between his brain and his legs were not on the same wavelengths. Back again to refill the now empty glass, he forced himself to slow down three notches. Finally he was able to bring the liquid to the bed of this sympathetic feminine being. The curtain was closed and knocking on it would be stupid. Definitely grabbing inside he wouldn’t do so again. So he whispered:
“Lady, here is your champagne!”
A hand came out and Herbert put the drink in there. He was so happy to have done something for her; he almost kissed this hand in gratitude.
After all this he trotted, this time slowly, down again and filled another glass with the same wet stuff and gulped it down.
“So much for waking up Georgia,” he thought, and what now? Having not the slightest idea of what to do now, he walked up to take her two hours duty time, when he saw Georgia standing there.
Herbert was stunned and asked:
“Where are you coming from?”
“From sleeping, where else,” she replied.
Now he asked the most idiotic question of this century, (the 20th!)
“It was you there in U 4 L?”
“Who else?” she asked.
He confessed: “I saw myself already standing in the unemployment line, because I grabbed a lady, there,” he pointed at Georgia’s décolleté.
“What do you mean, a lady? I am not a lady?” she asked grumbling.
“Of course you are a lady, I mean…” he stammered, but was stopped right then and there, when she said:
“Oh, stop and have a glass of that foamy stuff you brought me there in my four-poster, and while you are at it, get me also one.”
Herbert obediently did what he was instructed to do and trotted down to the basement, (as the crew, jokingly, called the lower deck,) where the Moët was still standing there on the counter, bubbling happily, waiting for customers.
While he was climbing the stairs with the two glasses, he relived the previous hasty ascent with the disgusting result. This time, he was careful not to duplicate his clumsiness.
He asked himself:
“My God, where did I get myself into? I had no idea this job would be like this!”
(He found out, on his next trip, this was not the norm!)
Georgia took one flute out of his hand, said: “Skol!” took a sip, and twinkled at him.
“What now?” He became a complete question mark.
It was nothing but a colleague’s gesture. She pointed at his glass and said:
“Drink my friend and hurry up to get into the cradle, which I have warmed up for you. Go ahead before it cools down. Dream something beautiful, in two hours you will be awakened.”
She
