Читать книгу Peggy Wayne, Sky Girl - Betty Baxter Anderson - Страница 9

6
BRIGHT NEW WORLD

Table of Contents

Perhaps, it was because of this new, strong ambition that Peggy became the outstanding student in the hostess class at Skylines, Inc.

That first morning, Miss Huston told the dozen young nurses more details concerning the positions to which they aspired. “You’ll work from ninety to one hundred and ten hours a month, never more than that. You’ll have two or three days off, between flights, except during the heavy holiday schedules when you may reach the maximum in the third week of the month. In that case, you may have a week or ten days of vacation to make up for it. You will be given five dollars a day for expense money when you’re away from home port. You may stay at the Allison, if you like, but most of the girls have found it is less expensive and more convenient to share an apartment with one or two other hostesses.

“Today, you will receive your Hostess Manual. I should like you to read through it carefully this evening. You won’t be expected to understand or memorize all of it at once. Various airline executives will come to class to explain the different phases of airplane equipment and regulations; flight regulations and equipment; forms and procedure of tickets; food service; connections and interline information; and I shall ask you to memorize all regular schedules, equipment and major stops on the airlines of the Western hemisphere. That will be your assignment for tomorrow. It isn’t quite as tough as it sounds. Most airlines use about the same equipment, and your familiarity with your own country will assist you.”

Inez, who had been the last one to arrive, just at ten, spoke up. “When do we have our physical examinations?”

“Our own flight physician will see half of you this afternoon, and the other half tomorrow afternoon. I shall announce the schedule of appointments as soon as we’ve finished this morning. Those whose appointments are for tomorrow may have the afternoon free.”

Jane’s physical examination was the first, and Peggy’s was to be late the next afternoon.

The girls left the classroom a little aghast at the assignment “Afternoon free!” Peggy was bewildered. “With all this memorizing to do?”

“You learn it, and then you can coach me tonight,” Jane suggested, half-laughing.

Tex Martin, the rangy co-pilot on the Skyliner that had brought them to Chicago, was waiting at the bottom of the iron stairs. “I reckoned I’d find you all,” he greeted them, “if I just hung around awhile.”

“How did you do in the Link trainer?” Peggy asked.

“Oh, pretty fair. Didn’t approach through any tall buildings or high lines. I thought maybe if you two didn’t have classes, I’d like to treat you to a spot of lunch, and then maybe we could go for a swim in the lake.”

“The lunch sounds fine, but I have to have my physical examination here at one,” Jane informed him. “Why don’t you two run along? I’ll have a snack over at the lunch room.”

“I really don’t think I should go swimming when I have all this to memorize,” Peggy demurred.

“One thing at a time,” the tall boy drawled. “Let’s all have lunch. Then, we can discuss the swim.”

Tex was a gay companion. The girls discovered that he was more than willing to answer questions. And they had a lot of them!

Jane left, reluctantly, in time for her appointment, and Peggy and her new friend continued their conversation through two extra cups of coffee.

“Now, how about that swim?” the pilot urged.

“It depends on one thing,” Peggy said, dimpling. “If my trunk is here, I’ll have a bathing suit, and I’ll go. If it isn’t here, I’ll stay at the hotel and do my cramming.”

“It’s a bargain. Come on. My car’s in the parking lot.”

Tex drove a dashing convertible club coupe, and for this sunny day he had the top down. As he threaded through the heavy traffic he remarked, “Too bad the Civil Aeronautics Authority can’t do something about cars. Most drivers are far off the beam. It’s twice as easy to pilot a plane—”

“Is it, really?” Peggy demanded.

“Why?” he asked, at the note of earnestness in her voice. “Thinking of taking up aviation as a side-line to hostessing?”

“You’re making fun of me,” Peggy said defensively. “I just decided this morning that I wanted to learn to fly. I thought you could advise me how to go about it.”

“I’m not making fun. Look at Jacqueline Cochran and Amelia Earhart and Anne Lindbergh. Who am I to poke fun at women flyers? Not only that, a friend of mine has an approved school at a private field not forty minutes away. He might shave his fees a little if I asked him to.”

“Is it very expensive?”

“It costs about three hundred dollars, and takes about three months to get your amateur pilot rating. About five hundred dollars and four months will earn you a private pilot’s certificate. It would take you about twice as long, if you learn while you’re working.”

“About four times as long, you mean. Why, it would take me until Christmas to save three hundred dollars.”

“You can pay as you go. It costs about six dollars an hour for instruction and use of the plane. You can start as soon as you pay the entrance fee. But I’d advise you to wait a month or so, until you get onto the hostess work. You’ll pick up a lot of information about flight regulations and equipment in the next three weeks that will be helpful later.”

At the Allison, Peggy learned that her trunk hadn’t arrived. Tex regretfully stuck to his bargain and departed, so that she could study her maps.

Both Jane and Peggy passed the rigid physical examination with flying colors. Their mornings in the class rooms, and their afternoons of instruction in the hangar or in the planes went with amazing swiftness. Gradually, by the end of the second week, the girls began to have an understanding of the patient detail, the skilled craftwork, and the modern efficiency of this great new enterprise.

They filled their notebooks with information on de-icing equipment, radio antennas, direction-finders, altimeters, compasses and gyro compasses, tachometers and ignition systems. But still this wasn’t enough for Peggy.

One morning was devoted to the serving of meals aboard an airliner. They learned that the usual menu contained hot meat, several hot vegetables, coffee, tea, milk or chocolate, hot soup, relishes, a cold salad and a cold dessert.

All the food was delivered to the planes from a cateress nearby who had made a career of providing meals to be served high above the earth. Her green trucks were driven out to the loading ramps every morning and, with the assistance of the ground crew, the driver of the car placed the freshly prepared food in the tiny kitchen compartments. The commissary department of the line checked it, and then turned it over to the hostess. It then became her responsibility.

The hot foods were kept in the large thermos pans from the kitchen of the cateress until served by the hostess. The liquids were in thermos jugs, built to withstand the variations in pressures at different altitudes, and placed in a rack in the galley.

The girls rehearsed serving the trays, and found that the efficient planning of the small room made the task much simpler than they had feared.

After class, Jane was assigned to the general office that afternoon to help check trip reports and get a picture of the clerical work necessary to a transport company.

Peggy decided to use the afternoon visiting the establishment of Mrs. Harrison, the cateress who prepared the nine thousand meals each month served by the airlines leaving Chicago. She found the story typical of the fascinating growth of the aviation industry.

Mrs. Harrison, in 1933, had been managing a small hotel near the southern boundary of the airport, used by pilots and executives. She heard the men discussing the radical plan of serving coffee on the planes. She obtained the contract to leave a thermos jug of the drink on every departing plane. Then one company asked her to provide a tray of sandwiches. All the time Mrs. Harrison was studying dietetics and trying to improve the quality of her food.

“I always felt,” she told Peggy, “that in spite of their good appetites, airline passengers shouldn’t be given heavy food. There’s no physical exertion to riding in a plane, and the stuffy feeling following a heavy meal is decidedly uncomfortable. For that reason, we provide light meat—fowl, chiefly—and fruits, salads and fluids.”

The pleasant young woman outlined her daily routine for Peggy. “We get the schedules from the airlines in the morning, and these go to the chief cook. One stove is reserved for soups. Relishes and salads are prepared in this separate room. The chief cook supervises the broiling of the chicken, while another prepares the peas. Mashed potatoes have to be light as whipped cream, for they seem to gain weight a couple of miles above ground.

“That huge board in the kitchen lists the departure time of every plane as well as the time when the food for each trip must be finished and placed in containers to be taken to the airport. The passenger agent calls us two hours before departure time to let us know how many dinners will be needed. Salads, desserts, bread, crackers, butter, salt and pepper are packed in individual containers.

“I have to be as weather conscious as the pilots,” she told Peggy, chuckling a little. “A cancelled flight means the loss of meals already packed. I get the finest of co-operation from the airline weather forecasters of all the companies.”

“How do you decide on your menus?” Peggy asked.

“Every once in a while, we get a fussy celebrity who wants something special. If it isn’t too outlandish, we serve it to all the passengers. Also, I’ve found it wise to carry quite a stock of baby foods. You’d be surprised at the frequency they’re required. But I try to vary the menus a lot. Many passengers may take two or three trips a week, and I’m thinking of them when I plan the meals.”

Peggy thanked the woman, and strolled back to the airport to see if Jane had finished.

Just as she got to Hangar Five, the loudspeaker announced the arrival of Skylines’ Flight Ten. Peggy paused to enjoy the thrilling sight of the big silver bird gliding in for a landing. She watched the passengers disembark, then turned to go into the building.

“Hi, Peggy!”

She turned to wave at Tex Martin. He was trotting toward Hangar Five, his flight log in his hand, and a wide grin on his face. “How about that swim this afternoon, young lady?”

“Nothing could sound more attractive,” Peggy confessed. “I’m like Mother. I’ve reached the saturation point on information. Let’s not mention aviation for three hours, what do you say?”

“Suits me. I’ll give you a nickel every time I slip, and you can give me a nickel every time you mention hostesses, airports or planes.”

By the end of their jolly afternoon at the beach, Tex was ahead by five nickels. But one nickel had exchanged ownership eleven times!