The Joys of Jumpseat: Part 1
Flight: Madrid, Spain – New York, New York, USA
Date: Sunday July 17, 2011
I’ve spent a lot of my life on airplanes (if I had to guess somewhere around 4,000 hours- no joke!), usually alone on short flights where I curled up in the window seat sound asleep.
But this time was different. In twenty years of flying, this was the first time I ever had the pleasure of experiencing the joys of jumpseat. For those of you who do not know what the jumpseat is, it’s that tiny, fold down seat the flight attendants sit in for take off, turbulence, and landing.
And so I sat, for the better part of seven hours, silently facing a stranger.
But first let me give you a little background of how I got there.
Days prior to this special adventure, my father, his girlfriend, her two daughters, and I had trekked through Paris, taken a night train to Barcelona, and cruised through the Mediterranean for seven days (all which are stories for another time).
When we arrived in the Barcelona airport to drag ourselves home, we were unfortunately- well, if I must say it- shit out of luck. There were hardly any seats available heading back to the states and there weren’t going to be any anytime soon. We decided to send my dad’s girlfriend Leslie and her daughter Cassie (yes, the Cassie from Chasing Chassie!) home on the last two seats out of Barcelona.
My father, myself, and Chrissy (Cassie’s sister), had to figure out another plan.
We decided on heading to Madrid. There seemed to be more availability there so we hopped on a plane and hoped for good luck. After arriving, we ventured through the airport (who knew an airport could have so many trams!) and got to the terminal where we needed to be.
Unfortunately, we still weren’t so lucky. This flight- also the last one out for the day- had one seat, multiple non-revs, and pretty much no hope for two out of the three of us. One of us would get the last seat but the others were to be left behind. But still we waited, because as a standby passenger you never know what crazy things will happen.
As they were about to close the doors to the plane, a miracle ran into the terminal. This extremely generous gate agent had begged the pilot to let us on the flight and he so graciously accepted. But he would only allow one- in the jumpseat. (FYI: Allowing passengers to fly jumpseat is at the sole discretion of the pilot.)
My father, being the wonderful man that he is, let Chrissy and I go. Since Chrissy had minimal experience with non-revving, I bit the bullet and took the jumpseat.
We rushed on to the plane, waving goodbyes as we drug our luggage down the jetway and scurried into our seats before the pilot could change his mind.
Chrissy took her seat near the middle of the plane, and I was shuffled to the back. The very back. And I do not mean the last row. I mean the very last seat behind the last row, behind the flight attendants, in a fold down chair with fighter pilot straps across my chest, in between cupboards and drinks and trays and all sorts of fun things that would make vicious rattling noises during take-off and could easily fall on me if accidentally unlatched.
This was going to be a lonnggg flight.
It was then that I realized I had all of my dad’s money. We left him in Madrid alone and completely broke.
Continued with The Joys of Jumpseat: Part 2!
Have you ever had to leave anyone behind on your travels? Let us know you story in the comments!
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