First World Problems

I'm feeling fairly reflective and peaceful today - pretty sure it's just hormones, so don't think I'm turning zen-buddhist in my spare time or anything, although I am burning candles and oil in my apartment right now. But I thought I'd take the opportunity to share some of the burning questions and problems I have been mulling over lately. And yes, I really do ask myself these things daily.


What do you mean, "chocolate isn't a food group?"  I've decided that the health benefits of eating chocolate far outweigh the negatives. Although the irony of using a word relevant to 'weight' here isn't lost on me. When considering my overall diet and food consumption, chocolate makes up a large percentage of it. As this is fairly generic, I'll clear up any confusion by stating that 'chocolate' includes chocolate bars, chocolate ice cream, chocolate cake and chocolate frosting from the tin (thank you Betty Crocker).


Apparently regular consumption of dark chocolate has noticeable health benefits, including lower cholesterol, lower blood pressure, and overall benefits to a healthy cardiovascular system and increased longevity. Hey, it was on the internet: it MUST be true! Another big tick in the box for the pro-chocolate team is that it contains natural anti-depressants, and stimulates endorphins in the body. I've done the research, and it's true - I never feel sad when I have chocolate to keep me company! I'm just ignoring the part where the health benefits are in dark chocolate because, let's face it, nobody really likes dark chocolate. But I am sticking to my theory that chocolate is in itself a worthy contributor to the balanced diet of a happy person - it's "produced from the seed of the tropical Theobroma cacao tree" (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chocolate). Pretty sure you can't go wrong eating plants.


What is wrong with people?  As much as I enjoy people-watching, and even the occasional interaction, I can't help feeling that there is something wrong with our race. Is it me? Am I alone in this observation, have I set my standards for my fellow homosapiens too high? Am I overlooking cultural differences that are leading to misunderstandings between me and others? Am I so magnificent and perfect that I believe it is not asking too much for some common appreciation of others? Some recurring noggin-scratchers...


Parents who raise the Spawn of Satan and let it loose in public or, more painfully for me, on an aircraft: its summer holidays in half the world right now and flight after flight after flight I have some form of run-in with Damian Omen, or Damian Omen Sr., or Mother Omen. (This is an allusion to a Devil-Child, for those of you unfamiliar with horror movie references.) If your child doesn't understand the safety risks of dancing in the aisle at take-off or landing, YOU SHOULD. If 400 people are trying to sleep and your kid is doing hot laps up and down the aisle, screaming, am I to blame when people get mad and abuse you? Call me crazy, but I don't consider it should be my responsibility as Crew to stop behaviour like that - that one comes down to a parent. Or maybe I'll start concealing a wooden spoon in the lining of my waistcoat as it becomes more and more a part of my job description. To the people who encourage their children to look down their nose at people in the service industry: I sincerely hope your child shows the same disdain toward their schoolwork as they do to me, and end up with a full career as the Night Manager at McDonalds wishing they had avoided this karma by not treating me like a maid. I AM NOT A MAID.


People who lack manners: "Please." "Thank you." That is all.


Individuals who are unable to comprehend the use of a toilet: There's a hole. You put your bum on it. I understand cultural differences may see many unsure of the high-rise bowl. But wherever you choose to go in the world: there's a hole, you put your bum on it, and you say farewell to whatever delight you choose to partake of at that moment. Why, oh why, would something so basic appear so complicated? Furthermore, if you know where your bum goes, surely it follows that others' bums would go there too. Would you put your bum on someone else's business? Doubtful. Clean up after yourself, it's the polite thing to do.


Why can't I save money?  Damn summer sales and impromptu holidays and $100 tanks of petrol.


Does my bum look big in this?  It used to depend on the mirror. Now that chocolate is officially a food group, it's more of a rhetorical question.


What should I order for dinner?  The answer to this question is usually relative to questions 1 & 4. Daily consumption of 1 multiplied by recurrent exposure to 4 equals dinner, where the value of 1 & 4 can change the outcome from a tin of tuna to a KFC burger meal or anything in between.


So. Now that I have exposed the chocolate-addicted, shallow and somewhat bitter individual that lurks inside of me, I want to explain that today I had a revelation. A friend and I often make jokes about 'First World Problems'; those that reflect the greed and selfishness of many of us like "my iPhone won't get reception on my yacht", "my wireless internet connection is too slow and I can't download fast enough," "the designer shoes I wanted went on sale but they didn't have my size left, so I was forced to buy them in a different colour" and so on (More on First World Problems).


Today I operated a flight to Jeddah, Saudi Arabia: the dreaded turnaround. It is my most despised flight, because there is no layover and no exploring at the end of it. Many of the passengers are Muslims making the pilgrimage to Mecca (JED is the closest airport), and a great deal of them travel in enormous groups and often don't speak English. The lack of English often makes boarding take about 2 hours, as they can't read seat numbers and plonk themselves wherever looks good. On a flight that is always, always full, it causes problems. I did my normal complaining bit today, "boo Jeddah, why me, I always get it, other people never get it, blah blah I'm so annoying and selfish." While our passengers were disembarking in Dubai, though, I helped a very elderly couple with their bags (Cabin Crew of the Year). They were wearing the traditional robes of the pilgrims, although theirs weren't the pristine white of many of the wealthy Arabs. They were old, and worn, and the old man had the flat-bottomed feet of someone not accustomed to wearing shoes. I tried to help him by carrying the big bag with the heavy flagon of water he had brought from the sacred spring in Mecca, but he pulled it away and wouldn't let me touch it. I realised how important this trip was for them, that this couple had probably saved and made sacrifices over their whole lives just to pay for the airfare to come to this place once in their life; the center of their faith and all that they believe, and I get sent there twice a month, being paid and fed and provided with my fancy uniform for nothing, and I complain about it. I'm a jerk.


Not that I am going to stop pondering my insignificant First World Questions; hey, they're interesting to me. But I am, in the serenity of my candlelit vanilla-and-lime-blossom scented lounge room, going to acknowledge that maybe I'm a bit spoilt and take my lucky life for granted. So I'm going to try and be more open-minded about some of my First World Problems, at least for the next couple of days. Thank you old pilgrim people for being so silent and peaceful, if only I could email you a link to my appreciative blog of self-discovery...