Take-off. What I do best. Landing? Still circling the pattern.
This begins one month in Washington.
I don’t think that being a flight attendant has to be as gypsy-esque as my life has been since December. It just so happens to be how my life is currently. It doesn’t mean this is every flight attendant’s life, so if you are considering a career, don’t let this post, or any of the others, discourage you. Instead of going into detail over why I’ve lived in Los Angeles, Ft. Lauderdale, Honolulu, and now Washington state, in 5 months time (Since Jan 2013), I am just going to leave it simply as, I am here. Now.
So let’s get to that now.
Kara & Dorie
We, not just I, because this includes my flight attendant co-worker, Dorie, have been in Bellingham, Washington for a total of seven days so far. Sent here, along with a few others, across the Pacific blue, away from Island life . Pieces of the balance that I have struggled with in Hawaii have seamlessly been falling back into place in this Pacific Northwest location. I feel healthy. I feel rested. I almost feel like a normal person, with a schedule and predictability. The week has proved itself to be all around fantastic, and that’s even with working every on-call day. For those of you that think that I don’t work, I would like to call this month as Exhibit A.
I wish Dorie and I had more play time to explore the area; Vancouver, Seattle, the quaintness of Bellingham, or Europe perhaps? Oh, but the time is limited! Dorie and I have maximized the free hours that we do have. Non-work time is filled with fun, silliness, girl talk…and did I say silliness already? Silliness actually encompasses all hours.
We rarely stop laughing
and we just have fun…renting a moped on San Juan Island
Dorie and I opted to be “roomies” in our hotel home, which comes complete with a kitchen, oven and stove included, as well as a dining room table. We plan on hosting tea parties and Scrabble nights. Invite only. This Washington home is fancy! Free Breakfast, a driver, hot-tub, maid, and personal fitness studio. Waikiki studios aren’t this plush. Hotel living is just quite nice sometimes.
Living with a co-worker is something that I said I would never do, as the first round of that, ended. Bad. But, I’ve categorized this situation as different. Maybe because it’s just 30 days, and my flight attendant roomie is easy to get along with. Dorie is a delightful mix of silly and serious. A smarty, that is frosted fairly frequently with blonde moments, but also has an inner depth that you would miss if you didn’t look beneath her pretty grin and dancing green eyes. My favorite qualities about Dorie is that she speaks whale, and that she is forgiving. She forgave me for accidently confusing her toothbrush as mine, and she forgives me for waking her up every night with my sleep talking. What a good roomie.
Dorie, Pirate hunting in Friday Harbor, San Juan Island.
Jokingly, Dorie and I say that we are going to make a chore wheel for our “home”. We’ve already taped our daily schedule to the fridge. Our schedule goes as such: Every morning, Dorie and I roll ourselves out of bed between the hours of 5am-8am, depending on what time we have to work. We start the day with a brutal workout. It’s called Insanity, and it is well named. Maybe you’ve heard of it. Squat jumps, push-ups, mountain climbers, and other strange movements straight from hell have our muscles screaming and our bodies collapsing in exhaustion. Once the 40 min- 60 min torture session are over, it’s breakfast time, and then a few hours to relax.
Dorie made fun of me when we first arrived because of how many bags I packed. She says I’m a flight attendant and should know how to travel light. I’m not traveling honey. This girl, me, is just trying to live. Somewhere.
Watch the video
There’s the side of me that sparkles over being able to live month-to-month in new locations, not knowing where I will be next. Then there is the more hidden, the quieter, melancholy side that hides behind the humor, the giggles, and adventure. The side that feels scared and very single through all of this. The part of me that is so, so, so over all of the goodbyes. So tired of my life in so many different places. Time to consolidate, whatever that means. I don’t want to have heart pulls to Los Angeles, suitcases and my beloved bicycle at my parent’s home, bags in Hawaii, and me and some outfits in Washington. Home is where the heart is? Ummm…whoever said that was NOT a flight attendant. If only I knew where I would land.
I just want to know where I’m meant to land.
And that was her life…