The Night I Ditched a Date for a Flight to Cairo

"Girl, you need to call crew scheduling and get put on this flight tonight."

That was the first thing I heard when I answered my phone. I didn't even have time to say hello. My friend Adrian was on the other end, sounding like the kind of friend who had just discovered buried treasure and was trying to make sure I got a piece before the map disappeared.

Adrian and I had gone through flight attendant training together. We were in the same class, almost exactly the same seniority, and therefore doomed to the same category of airline life: perpetually being assigned Access Days every month, perpetually broke, and perpetually one Crew Scheduling phone call away from finding ourselves in an entirely different country than we'd expected.

She had started her Access days one day before I did. Mine technically didn't begin until the following day and I was already assigned airport standby at LaGuardia the next morning.

My standby shift was supposed to start at 8:00 a.m. at LaGuardia, which meant there was absolutely zero chance I was headed anywhere internationally. LaGuardia wasn't exactly launching flights to exotic destinations before breakfast (or ever, really). Maaaybe you'd get a trip to Montreal, but that's about it.

Since I was already released until my 8am call time, I was on a date in Manhattan. And it wasn't going great. I don't remember much about the guy, but I remember two things: One, we met on OKCupid and he lied on his profile about his height. Two, I was so motivated to wrap it up quickly (because he just kept talking and talking without having a point) that the moment my phone rang, I claimed I had a work emergency.

People like to romanticize dating before social media. As though everyone met organically in bookstores and bonded over meaningful conversations about literature and jazz. Let me assure you that dating in 2008 was every bit as ridiculous as it is today, we simply had fewer apps documenting the disaster.

At some point while I'm sitting through this aggressively forgettable evening, Adrian calls.

"Girl, call crew scheduling. The Cairo crew timed out."

You have my full attention, immediately.

Cairo was one of those trips. One of those mythical trips that junior flight attendants talked about but never actually got. We coveted those trips, but only senior mamas got assigned Cairo.

The senior mama kind of flight attendants who had enough seniority to hold Christmas off every year and could casually say things like, "I haven't worked a weekend since 1997."

Those flight attendants got Cairo, Egypt. Junior flight attendants got Cairo, Illinois (just kidding, no one flies to Cairo).

So, when Adrian said the Cairo crew had timed out, my brain immediately started calculating possibilities. (I want to insert the Dumb and Dumber gif of Jim Carey saying "so you're saying there's a chance" but I'm resisting the urge.)

For those of you who don't speak airline, "timing out" means a crew has exceeded the FAA's legal duty limitations. Contrary to popular belief, airlines don't stop crews from working because they're feeling compassionate. At some point, the FAA says, "Nope. You're done." The airline is legally required to comply.

Lemme take a minute and explain this, because it's interesting and if you're not above-the-wing crew, you'll never experience it.

You already know, I think, that flight attendants are not fully paid until the airplane door closes, and stop getting full pay once it opens on the other end the flight. The greatest amount of our pay is derived from "flight time" (when the door is closed), but we also get paid a nominal amount of "duty time" pay which starts when we clock in down in the flight attendant lounge and brief with our crew. I can't remember, but I think this was like our 'per diem.' It's something like $3 per hour you are on a trip and away from home base.

Timing out is the airline slang, not the FAA term. What "timing out" means here is that "The crew has reached (or will reach) their maximum allowable duty period before they can legally complete the flight."

For flight attendants, the FAA measures "duty time," not just flight time. Duty time starts when you report for work and ends when you're released from duty. If you report at 5:00 p.m. for a flight and don't leave until midnight because of delays, all seven of those hours count toward duty time. There are circumstances where crews can voluntarily exceed certain contractual limits or accept limited extensions, but if the math showed the crew would exceed their FAA duty limits before landing in Cairo, the flight could not depart with that crew.

In this case, the original crew had shown up for work, boarded passengers, closed the aircraft door, pushed back from the gate, and apparently encountered some kind of mechanical issue. They went back to the gate. The passengers stayed onboard, and the clock kept ticking. Even though they weren't serving meals, that means the crew kept working. Hours passed. Troubleshooting, more waiting.

Eventually they reached the point where they had been on duty roughly 8 to 9 hours before the plane would have taken off. Add another 10-11 hours for the flight, plus deplaning and going through customs...there simply wasn't enough legal duty time remaining to operate a flight from New York all the way to Cairo.

The flight couldn't leave. The passengers had to gather up all their stuff and deplane. The entire crew had to come off as well, and scheduling suddenly found themselves needing an entire replacement crew for a 767 headed to Egypt.

At some point during Adrian's explanation, I completely stopped listening to my date. I may have physically still been there, but mentally and spiritually, I was already in North Africa.

We hung up, and I called crew scheduling. "Hey, this is Margaret Thomas, and technically my access days don't start until tomorrow but I hear you need a crew for Cairo tonight."

"We sure do, honey, what's your employee number?"

I rattled off the six digits.

"Thank you for calling, I've got that standby shift off your calendar, and if you can report to JFK within two and a half hours, I will add this Cairo trip to your schedule."

"I can be there in about 90 minutes."

Technically I had already been released. Technically I wasn't available for Crew Scheduling. But for CAIRO I would happily start my Access days early.

Looking at this dude across the table confirmed that I would happily abandon my evening. I happily threw that mystery man and our date directly into the trash and disappeared into the night.

"I'm so sorry," (I'm not actually sorry) "but I've been called into work. I'll send you a message later to reschedule." (I did not, in fact, reschedule)

Looking back, this was one of the smartest decisions I ever made during my entire flight attendant career. I never got to see Cairo again. Somehow it just never came up for trade on days that I was available ever again.

One random scheduling miracle made it happen.

I was on the LIRR so fast. The train was on time, and I sprinted down Lefferts Boulevard to my crash pad. I hardly know what I was packing in my suitcase. I didn't bother with food. I ensured I had a reasonably modest dress and a bathing suit. There are markets for everything else where I'm going.

Cairo!

The flight itself was mostly uneventful, although we did have one Arabic speaker who immediately earned a permanent position on my personal No Fly List. He was so aggressively rude, chauvinistic, and dismissive to both of us the entire way there and on the flight home.

I was ready to throw hands midway across the Atlantic, and I assure you: if I can handle a grown-ass man having a temper tantrum about having to shut down his phone and not finish the current level of Candy Crush he was on, I have a high tolerance for bullshit.

There were two Arabic speakers working the flight. One of them was lovely. The other was the human embodiment of stepping barefoot on a Lego. I don't even remember his name anymore (I'm really good at blocking out bad memories!). Just imagine the most irritating coworker you've ever had. Whatever face just popped into your head. That's him.

Fortunately, I had Adrian for this trip. Adrian is gorgeous, hilarious, and somehow manages to make every situation more fun simply by existing nearby. She made jokes in training about "bringing her own floatation devices" because her breast implants are so over the top, and I called dibs on her as a friend. Being funny and charming is a valuable trait when you're spending nearly twelve hours crossing an ocean together.

The layover itself was just about thirty-two hours.

We stayed at the beautiful Hilton Ramses, right on the riverfront. What I remember most is the dark polished wood everywhere. It felt old in a dignified way instead of old in a "please don't inspect the carpet too closely" way.

Some crew members did a Nile dinner cruise, but I couldn't afford it. Junior flight attendant pay wasn't exactly funding luxury excursions. I didn't even have a credit card to put it on in those days! But there was a beautiful pool on the property, and the food was incredible.

Most importantly, we all took a day trip to see the pyramids.

Here's the thing nobody tells you about the pyramids: They are simultaneously more magical and less magical than you imagine.

The pyramids themselves are astonishing. Absolutely mind-bending. You stand there staring at these structures that have existed for thousands of years and your brain struggles to process the timeline. Entire civilizations have risen and fallen while these rocks just sat there.

Did you know that Ancient Egyptians studied the archaeology of even more ancient Egyptians!

Empires came and went. Rose and fell. Languages evolved. Religions spread. Countries appeared on maps and disappeared again.

Through all of it, these pyramids remained.

I stood there looking at them for a long time. Then I turned around and realized there was a Pizza Hut across the street.

I am not exaggerating. I WISH I was exaggerating. The photographs you've seen are taken from very strategic angles. The vendors who will sell you the experience of having a photo taken there are really good about hitting those angles.

The reality is that Cairo has grown right up to the edge of the desert. The city practically touches the archaeological site. So you can be having a profound existential experience contemplating human history while simultaneously noticing modern traffic.

It's a weird combination, and I'll geek out right now and tell you this: I loved every second of it. I rode a camel. I got the pictures. I saw the Sphinx. I resisted the urge to take a rock from the pyramids home with me (apparently it's bad luck, but also, there would be no pyramids if everyone did that).

I also survived the relentless sales tactics. If you've ever researched visiting Egypt, you've probably heard stories about the vendors. Those stories are 100% true. Everybody is trying to sell you something. A trinket. A scarf. A souvenir. A memory.

Someone ties something around your wrist and suddenly you're negotiating an international economic agreement you never intended to enter (this is a known scam that happens in a lot of popular tourist destinations, but also here). Being there with a large crew helped tremendously because several of the senior flight attendants had done the trip many times before and knew exactly how to navigate everything.

At one point we went to a local restaurant (another scam, usually. The person who sent you to see their "uncle's restaurant" gets a kickback) where I had absolutely no idea what I was ordering. As someone with a shellfish allergy, this occasionally becomes a high-stakes adventure.I basically squint at the menu, make my best guess, and hope nobody accidentally serves me a crustacean.

The food was excellent.

I survived.

Success all around! Amaze amaze amaze

Even just thinking back on this memory now, the thing I think about most isn't the pyramids or the hotel or the aggressive salespeople. It's how close I came to missing the whole experience.

What if Adrian hadn't called? What if I hadn't answered? What if I'd decided to be responsible and keep my original schedule instead of calling Crew Scheduling? What if I'd stayed on that terrible date?

None of it would have happened if I didn't say "yes" to the experience.

No Cairo.

No pyramids.

No camel.

No Nile sunset.

No memories.

Just another forgettable evening with a forgettable man whose name I can't even remember.

Sometimes the best decision you make is abandoning Plan A the second something better appears. Particularly when Plan B is Egypt.

Please share this post with your favorite flight attendant!

I'm on vacation next week, so no post, but when I'm back I'll be sharing about traveling the farthest to see my favorite band in concert (gaaah, I miss free flights).