Barbara Borzi - Living the Sky Life

The Gift

My fate had been sealed the moment my parents had bought me a service trolley when I was five years old. It had become tradition among my relatives to take turns annually hosting Christmas, and this year had been my familys turn. This meant I would have to wait until everyone (nine people) had arrived before I could tear open the big, meticulously wrapped gift that I had already spotted under the tree with my name on it. My mother had me wear one of the dresses she had made, which was no surprise because all I owned were handmade dresses. I never even owned pants until I came home from school complaining that everyone else was wearing pants. The following week I was given ugly hand-me-downsjust what I was hoping for. Thankfully, I didnt have to wear the usual white lace knee-high socks that Italian moms used to always make their daughters wear. They were itchy and would leave a pattern on my legs, but on this day, I wore regular cotton knee-highs. My mother had brushed my hair and clipped the side back with my favourite yellow butterfly barrette. Even though the aroma coming from my moms homemade lasagna cooking in the oven was making my stomach growl, I was ready and eager to start the gift opening.

The adults decided my cousins, brother, and I had suffered enough and finally let us open our gifts before sitting down for lunch. What can it be? What can it be? I thought gleefully. Anything this big had to be awesome! It was a pale yellow, two-tiered plastic serving trolley on wheels. The second my dad had it assembled I was throwing everything I could find on it so I could make a buck. The TV remote control, my moms cigarettes, a pen, a box of tissuesif you wanted it, you had to pay for it. Ingenious. My parents let me grab items around the house and then sell them back to them. I was only charging pennies mind you, but for a five-year-old this meant I was one step closer to that bubble gum machine in the mall. I think the point of the cart was to serve beverages, such as tea, (at no profithow dumb was that?) but I liked my way much better. I was an entrepreneurial flight attendant in the making.

My first real experience of life in an airport happened from the ages of eighteen to twenty-one. I held a part-time job working in a retail store at the airport selling various handmade items from the Northwest Territories. I used to watch the terminal come alive as early as 0600 hours as Id be opening the store, watch the hustle and bustle of passengers passing by, and I even met some remarkably interesting people. Many of the customers in my store were the business travellers who hadnt bought anything while in town and needed to pick something up at the last minute before heading home to their families. Who knew that seventeen years after receiving a service trolley for Christmas, Id find myself being interviewed for a flight attendant position? Like many other university graduates, I held a degree but had no clue what I was supposed to do with it. I held a specialization in history and a major in French literature. This basically meant I enjoyed four years of storytelling. So, what does one do when they enjoy school and dont know what career to pursue? They continue with yet more schooling.

I now found myself engaged in a French translation and interpretation program. While in this program, I managed to land my first full-time job. Working part time did not provide enough funds to cover the cost of education as well as clothing and entertainment. (This nerd also liked to date and have fun.) My new job was with an airline as a customer sales and service agent. After my six-month probationary period, I experienced my first taste of standby travel.

Ten of us newbies from the office decided it would be fun to travel to Los Angeles (LAX) for our first standby flight with the company. We all agreed to meet in LAX on a specific day. I flew in on the first flight that morning and met up with the group. We became part of the audience on The Price Is Right show and then ran over to join The Tonight Show audience. None of us became rich or famous that day, but it was a fast, fun-packed adventure that I would repeat again in a heartbeat. Later that evening I flew home with places racing through my head of where Id head to next.

Halifax (YHZ) was my next one-day adventure but this time with my father. The two of us flew out for the day to visit my brother, who was attending St. Marys University. He showed us around campus and downtown, and then we went home after dinner. It probably would have been more fun if it wasnt winter and there werent so many hills.

Fredericton (YFC) was a bit of a blur. It was a full flight out, but my boyfriend had managed to get the last cabin seat while I sat in the cockpit with the pilots. We visited our friend who was attending university there. We might have had a few drinks and might have caused a bit of a disturbance at a local bar playing vicious air hockey and accidentally putting holes in walls, but if you had interrogated me, I wouldve pleaded the Fifth. We stayed overnight at his dorm and left first thing in the morning (at least I thought it was morning...).

Zurich (ZRH) was my first standby travel that was longer than one night. My boyfriend and I flew out for two weeks, travelling through Switzerland and Italy on the Eurail. This was a discounted ticket I was able to obtain through my company, which included unlimited train travel between five different countries for two weeks. We visited numerous tourist cities and stayed with some of my relatives in Brescia and Como in Italy. It was an amazing opportunity that I was grateful we took advantage of because this was the last time I would ever see my grandparents.

In Quebec City (YQB), my boyfriend and I were greeted by a hailstorm on our way to the hotel. During our one day there we visited Old Quebec City and helped ourselves to a free buffet dinner being served in our hotel. Okay, so there might have been a private function happening, but no one stopped us as we carried our plates full of food up to our room.

I had officially gotten hit by the travel bug. City names had now morphed into airport codes, and I could recite the phonetic alpha through Zulu alphabet (to be explained in greater detail later in the book) like nobodys business.