Some say it takes 13 months to complete a grieving cycle. This may also be the length of chrysalis-ation for this particular critter--me. After 13 months, here I am with an overdue aviation update.
At the end of the summer last year (2024), I stepped away from Hawaiian Airlines and my job as Guest Services Agent at SFO. Surprisingly quickly, I had applied for a coveted flight attendant position with United Airlines, been interviewed 3 times, and been offered and accepted a provisional offer of employment. As long as I passed their FA training, I would be flying the friendly skies by Halloween.
The training at their large center in Houston was an intense nearly 7-weeks of being away from home. I had a roommate I'd never met before, a 6-days-a-week training schedule, with days lasting 10 hours, and limited time, means or funds to leave the hotel where we spent our nights and ate ours breakfasts buffet-style. Personal mail could be collected only after 7 pm each day. Needless to say, I had little energy to video chat or even text my family and friends during any of that time.
Though I suffered moments of deep doubt as to whether I would successfully complete the training, I did. On graduation day, a family friend and long-time United FA pinned my wings onto the breast pocket of my black tailored jacket, 2 silver stripes at encircling the wrists. A proud moment for both of us.
Less than a week later, I was flying lead FA of an international flight to Mexico City, making announcements, stocking the forward galley, wining and dining the First Class passengers from Boarding to Landing, coordinating with the other FAs, and ensuring the safety and comfort of my pilots.
Despite the wonderful crews and decent passengers on my flights, I knew from the start that the stimulation of the various airports, differing aircraft configurations, bombardment of sounds, and ever-changing hotel facilities was too much for my particular neurodivergent and environment-sensitive brain. The stuffy air of the airports, planes and hotels felt suffocating, and the small spaces of my work areas, the galley and aisle, felt entrapping.
I literally felt sick. I knew what I had to do. I had to get out.
An act of self-preservation, I turned in my resignation with my family's full support, as well as the support of my wing-pinner. To his credit, my UA supervisor at SFO handled things graciously. Good humaning by all involved.
I am still in touch with my roommate and my besties from training. Training trauma is a thing, and many of us bonded through enduring the process together. I do not regret the time spent, or. the knowledge gained. I still watch the jets in the the sky and wonder of their destinations, but I don't wonder whether I should be attending them.
Happily, after a recovery period, I may have found the will and a way back to my ohana at SFO. More on that (hopefully) to come!
My love of the skies doesn't expire when I reach the ground.
Onward!
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