Unfortunately, this would be no vacation for me. When I originally left Florida, I had given myself less than 24 hours to pack, clean and get moved out. I needed to get back and get everything organized before my lease expired at the end of September. The 3-day weekend would be the perfect opportunity to get this done.
The week prior, we received our company pilot/crew badges. With the badges, we were told that our information had been put into CASS (Cockpit Access Security System) and we were now eligible to jumpseat. So, I now had a plan; a free one that was, in reality, no plan at all.
Early in the morning on Friday, I prepared to go to the airport. Sporting a white dress shirt, black slacks, and my carry-on luggage I walked through the doors to the terminal and made my way down to security. The most important accessory was hanging from the lanyard on my neck, the ID badge labeled "CREW." I didn't have a ticket and it was the only way I could get through the checkpoint to the gate. As I approached the security access point, I noticed the twisting and turning of humanity all trying to prove that they were, in fact, not terrorists. Even at the relatively small airport as compared to Orlando or Los Angeles, there were at least 100 people in line waiting. At 5am, many were anxiously checking their watches and straining their necks to see what was taking so long. As older and less experienced passengers struggled climbing through the hoops set forth by the TSA, the people behind them groaned audibly or shook their heads. Clearly everyone here was is in a good mood.
I checked my phone as I entered the back of the line. An experienced traveler, I had given myself plenty of time to make it to the flight and not having to check a bag helped incredibly. As I made my way to the end of the line, a TSA officer pointed at me then beckoned. "Sir, you don't have to wait in line. You're crew." I politely corrected him saying that I wasn't flying today, just trying to catch a ride home. "It don't matter. You have a badge, you go through this line."
There wasn't really any point arguing with the man especially if it would keep me from having to wind mindlessly through the security line. I walked up, showed him my badge and he put me in the front of the line. It was an awkward feeling to get any special treatment in an airport. Even as a cadet in uniform, I never received any special treatment. Over the years, I had become so numb to the feeling of being just another passenger amongst millions that this sudden movement to the front of the employee line was unsettling. As I made my way around all those impatiently standing in line, I felt a little embarrassed. Are they looking me?
I quickly and effortlessly made my way through security and found myself at the gate. I had checked the passenger loads of the flights the previous night and flying Delta Airlines to Daytona Beach through Atlanta seemed to be the easiest. I walked to the counter and met with the gate agent.
"Good morning. I was wondering if the jumpseat is available today?" She typed away at her computer and responded affirmatively. I handed her my badge and my passport. There was no one else listed for the jumpseat and as long as someone from Delta didn't show up, I'd get it. The back of the plane (where the passengers sit) was oversold today due to a massive amount of storms that blew through most of the Midwest the day before. Well, that solves the mystery as to why people were so grumpy, I briefly thought. How silly of me. People are always grumpy in airports. This just gives them a good reason to be.
I was told that 6 flights were canceled out of St Louis and that it didn't look good to be assigned a seat. I'd most definitely be sitting in the cockpit. Not more than 5 minutes later, I was called to the podium. Unfortunately, a Delta pilot had showed up and they wouldn't be able to give away the jumpseat to me. I've come to learn that 6 am flights are the most missed by people stuck in security or from oversleeping. Today was no different but, as a jumpseater, I am at the end of the standby list. Fifteen people missed their flight this morning but I was number 17. Oh well.
Have you ever wanted to show up to an airport and just go wherever? I've often romanticized about being able to show up and get on any plane to go anywhere. This concept, of course, has always been financially prohibitive. Today was a different story. I pulled out my phone to find the next flight out of St Louis. United Express had a flight to Chicago but it was leaving in less than 20 minutes. When I arrived at the gate area, it was empty and they were making announcements for passengers to return for boarding. I politely asked the gate agent if there were any seats available and she quipped back, "Well, if these 10 people don't show up, there will be plenty of room. Wait around."
After 10 minutes, only 3 of the people showed and she looked at me. "Well hunny, this flight has to go. You're good to board." I just looked back at her in confusion and asked which seat I was assigned to. "Whichever one you want. Well, are you going to board or stay here?"
Still relatively confused and wide-eyed, I boarded the airplane. The flight attendant was waiting there in the doorway and I politely introduced myself to her. She quickly moved out of the way allowing me access to the cockpit. "Good morning," I said. "I was wondering if you have room for one more?"
In the airline world, the jumpseat and any seat to be filled by jumpseating crew members is owned by the Captain. It is good form to introduce yourself to the Captain and crew so that they know who you are and where you are seated. As part of the "free ride" you get, it is expected that you help the crew should the need arise. In fact, the regulations refer to anyone occupying a jumpseat as an Additional Crew Member. That seems more than reasonable in exchange for being allowed to ride along.
The Captain, first officer, and I exchanged small talk for a few minutes before I politely bowed out to go find a seat. When the flight arrived, I waited for the last passenger to deplane and made my way to the cockpit once again. I poked my head back in the cockpit, thanked the crew for the ride and made my way into Chicago O'Hare to find my next connection.
I felt like a much less handsome and talented Leonardo DiCaprio in Catch Me If You Can as I walked off the plane and into the jetway (as an aside, if you haven't seen that movie, it is excellent. Stop reading and watch it now). It almost seems too easy to be able to go wherever, whenever. I couldn't believe I had just paid nothing to fly to Chicago, a trip that even by car would cost nearly $50.
Within the hour, I had repeated the process, only this time on a United Airlines mainline flight to Orlando. The crew, much older and much less friendly, still gladly obliged and I found myself a comfortable seat in the rear.
After having spent the better part of 24 hours in Daytona Beach packing, I made my way to the airport one last time. Most of my friends had already made plans for Saturday night, so instead of waiting until early in the morning, I hopped on the last flight out of Daytona to Atlanta on Delta just in time for me to make the last Airtran Airways flight to St Louis. As I boarded the last flight at 10pm, the flight attended grabbed my shoulder as I left the cockpit to find my seat. "Here ya go." she said as she handed me a mini-bottle of water. Thus ended my first and most assuredly not last trip as a stowaway.
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