_Vicki Meets the Bryants_
All the passengers were aboard now. Jean had closed the main cabin door.
Captain Jordan flashed on the “No Smoking--Fasten Seat Belts” sign.
Vicki went up and down the aisle checking to see that passengers had
fastened their seat belts. The airplane began to vibrate. She made her
welcoming announcement over the plane’s public-address system, adding,
“Captain Jordan will keep you informed of flight data en route.” Then
both stewardesses found seats--the observation lounge was the only
vacant place--and strapped in for the take-off.
Suddenly the Electra was taxiing and in instants they were racing past
the end of the runway. Even more suddenly--no wail, no warm-up of the
engines--zoom! Whoosh! Up they went!
Jean and Vicki were so amazed that they stared at each other. “Jet
engines!” they exclaimed. “Look at our rate of climb! And steep--almost
straight up!”
The plane tore into the sky. The “No Smoking--Fasten Seat Belts” sign
went off. Here in the cabin there were music, air at a comfortable
temperature and pressure, newspapers, magazines, and pillows which
Vicki and Jean distributed. The captain’s call button sounded on the
board in the buffet area, and he spoke over the plane’s communications
system to the two hostesses.
“Everybody comfortable?”
“Yes, Captain,” said Vicki.
“You can tell our passengers we reached our cruising altitude within
five minutes after take-off. Anyone especially interesting aboard?”
“We’ll tell you soon, sir,” said Vicki.
The passengers were interested in the Electra and asked questions.
With sixty-eight aboard, Vicki and Jean could not stop to visit. But
they chatted with the passengers while they set up at each seat the
tray tables for dinner and spread linen tablecloths. The white-haired
couple, Vicki learned, were Mr. and Mrs. Marshall Bryant. The lady
told her this; the elderly man had fallen asleep, as if overtired. One
genial man was a movie star, perennially young, even though he had
five children. Several passengers recognized him, judging by their
interested glances. He asked Vicki several stiff technical questions
about the jet-propelled Electra.
From across the aisle a woman touched Vicki’s sleeve. “My two
youngsters are getting hungry, I’m afraid. Could you please--?”
“Yes, indeed, we’ll serve dinner soon. And we always serve the children
first.”
Vicki made her way along the slightly swaying plane toward the buffet
area. She was waylaid by only three passengers on the way. One man
wanted to know if there was a razor aboard which he could borrow.
There was. A woman asked Vicki how to adjust the individual air vents
and reading lights. And a determined-looking man announced to the
stewardess that he was a vegetarian.
“Y-yes, sir,” said Vicki, and made her smiling way to the sky kitchen.
Once inside the closed accordion curtains, Vicki lost her smile and her
face became as desperate as Jean’s, in her struggle with several oven
drawers full of turkey dinners.
“Hi,” Jean greeted her. “Better put your smock on, like me. I’m scared
we’ll still be serving dinners ten minutes after landing in New York.”
“We’ll do fine,” Vicki said without believing it, and started to make
coffee.
“Parsley, parsley, where’s the parsley?” Jean muttered. “Somewhere in
this overgrown filing cabinet--oh, yes, here.”
“Can we spare extra rolls for some hungry kids?” Vicki peered in the
roll warmer. “Yes, we can.”
She collected nine rolls on a tray, one for each of the children
aboard. On her way back to the buffet area with her empty tray, Vicki
noticed that something was wrong in the Bryants’ area. Two men
passengers were standing over Mr. Bryant, one loosening his collar and
tie, and the call button rang. Vicki hurried to them. The people nearby
were considerately snuffing out their cigarettes and opening air vents.
“My husband has a heart condition,” Mrs. Bryant said anxiously to
Vicki. “I don’t think he’s having a heart attack, but he--”
Vicki concealed her alarm and looked at Mr. Bryant who was lying back
weakly in his chair. He was conscious but exhausted, breathing with
some difficulty. His face was pale and sweaty.
“Uncomfortable--” he muttered.
“He needs oxygen,” Vicki said. “I’ll get the oxygen bottle, Mrs.
Bryant. Is he in any pain?... No? That’s good. I’ll be right back.”
To the two men standing by rather uselessly, Vicki said, “Thank you,
gentlemen. I am trained to give first aid.”
The men nodded and resumed their seats. Vicki sped to the storage
compartment, being careful to look calm for the benefit of the other
passengers, and hurried back down the aisle carrying a walk-around
oxygen bottle and a blanket. She paused a moment at the buffet area.
“Jean, is there a doctor aboard?”
“Not among my passengers. Who’s sick?”
“That elderly man. Mr. Bryant. Heart condition.”
“Want me to notify Captain Jordan for you?” Jean asked.
“Yes, phone him. I’ll report soon. Please start serving dinners, Jean.
We must keep it pleasant aboard just as usual.”
Vicki hastened back to the Bryants. She covered the man with the
blanket.
“Miss Barr, I must tell you”--Mrs. Bryant made an effort to control
her trembling voice and hands--“that my husband is more exhausted than
ill. He had three quite tiring days in Chicago on business, and it’s
been hard on him.”
Vicki said soothingly, “Certain people need extra oxygen at high
altitudes, where the air is thin. Our cabin air is pressurized, but for
someone who is a cardiac, and for other special needs, we carry extra
oxygen.”
As she talked, she placed the oxygen bottle on Mr. Bryant’s lap; he was
able to hold it steady. Vicki opened the bottle’s knob, then adjusted
the constant-flow mask snugly over Mr. Bryant’s mouth and nose.
Almost at once his breathing grew easier. A little color returned to
his face. When he seemed comfortable again, Vicki removed the mask and
closed the knob. Just the same, she was worried. He was still weak, and
he was an elderly person with an impaired heart.
“Mr. Bryant, Mrs. Bryant, if you wish to have a doctor’s care within
just a few minutes,” Vicki said earnestly, “we can arrange it for you.
The pilot can make an emergency landing. Captain Jordan will radio
ahead to the nearest airport to have a doctor and ambulance waiting to
meet our plane.”
Mrs. Bryant murmured, “That’s wonderful. What do you think, Marshall?”
“No. Not necessary. Make myself conspicuous. Inconvenience all these
people.”
“Not at all, sir,” Vicki said. “Captain Jordan probably will be able to
make up the time.”
“No. I’m all right. Only a weak spell. Thank you, anyway.”
Vicki asked respectfully, “Did a doctor give his permission for you to
fly, sir?”
“The doctor most certainly did _not_--” Mrs. Bryant started, but the
man interrupted. “Fool doctors would keep me in a rocking chair. I have
to do what _I_ think is right.”
Vicki mentioned briefly the regulation for Federal and all airlines: a
person with a serious heart condition was not supposed to fly unless
he had a doctor’s written permission to do so, on the grounds that the
trip was necessary, and unless he had someone to accompany him who
could nurse him. The airlines relied on cardiacs not to board a plane
without such certification.
“If we had known in advance, Mr. Bryant,” Vicki said, “we would have
been obliged to keep you off the plane.”
“Well, you took excellent care of me, young lady. It worked out, didn’t
it?”
Mrs. Bryant shook her head. “You are so self-willed, Marshall. So
stubborn.”
Vicki turned to her. “The oxygen I gave your husband is only first aid,
you know. Do _you_ feel a doctor should see him immediately?”
“Well, I’ve seen him have worse spells than this one--not in the air,
either.” The elderly lady hesitated. “He does seem much better now--”
Vicki said that it was really up to the captain of the plane to decide
whether to make an emergency landing. She excused herself, went forward
past curious passengers, unlocked the cabin door, and stepped up into
the cockpit.
In the cabin dozens of black-and-white dials on the instrument panel
glowed, needles flickered, the radar screen flashed. At a signal from
Captain Jordan, the copilot took over the controls.
“Well, Vicki? How is that man?”
“He came fairly close to fainting, Captain Jordan. He’s elderly, a
little overweight, and he has a heart condition. However, since he’s
had therapeutic oxygen, he’s not in any distress. And his wife seems
fairly satisfied with the way he looks now.”
“I’d much rather land than take chances with a passenger’s life.”
Captain Jordan looked at his wrist watch, thinking. “I’ll tell you
what. Observe him for ten minutes and if he shows any sign of relapse
call me. We can come down at Clarkville. In any case, Vicki, we’re
going to have a doctor and an ambulance on hand at New York. We’ll
radio ahead to La Guardia Airport.”
“Thank you, Captain,” said Vicki.
“That’s all for now, Vicki. Keep me informed.”
Vicki returned to the Bryants. Mr. Bryant was sitting up erect now; it
was a relief to see that. She told them of the captain’s decision.
“I am so grateful!” Mrs. Bryant exclaimed. “I’m sure we won’t need to
make a special stop.”
Mr. Bryant apparently was not a man to yield a point easily, but he did
say, “Very good of you airlines people. Very good indeed.”
Vicki brought the Bryants their dinners right away, and both old people
perked up as they ate the hot food. She raced through serving all her
other passengers. Jean cheerfully doubled up on jobs, so that Vicki
finished her in-flight chores on time.
“Do you know we haven’t sat down once since take-off?” Jean said
breathlessly.
“Jean, you’ve been an angel on this trip! For a while there I thought
you had four hands.”
“Save the compliments. We’re coming in for a landing in twenty minutes.”
Twenty-one minutes later they were down at La Guardia Airport. Vicki
summoned the passenger agent. He gave Mr. Bryant his arm on the way
out of the plane to the waiting ambulance. Vicki escorted Mrs. Bryant,
walking slowly.
Vicki waited for the Bryants outside the ambulance while the doctor
checked over the elderly man. She hated to leave Jean alone to say
good-by to the other passengers and pick up in the cabin afterward, but
she’d make it up to Jean some other time. The passenger agent had sent
a man to locate the Bryants’ car and chauffeur. He would bring the car
onto the airfield as near to the ambulance as possible.
The doctor stepped out and said to Vicki:
“All right, stewardess, he may go home. I think it’s safe for this
gentleman to drive to the city now.”
He helped Mrs. Bryant down out of the ambulance, then Mr. Bryant.
Their car pulled up at that moment. Captain Jordan came hurrying over,
carrying his flight papers.
“Miss Barr, are both Bryants all right?”
“Yes, Captain. Tired but all right.”
The Bryants thanked him, and he went off. They particularly thanked
Vicki. They climbed into their car, and asked Vicki if she wished to
drive into metropolitan New York with them.
“It’s kind of you, but I still have some duties here.”
“Then you must come to lunch,” Mrs. Bryant said. “You’ve been a
wonderful help, and I want a chance to thank you properly.”
“I was only doing my job,” said Vicki.
“Come to lunch tomorrow,” Mr. Bryant barked at her. “Can you?”
Vicki was so startled she stammered, “Y-y-yes, th-thank you.”
Mrs. Bryant smiled, and told her the address. “At twelve, Miss
Barr?” Then she said an odd thing. “You know, my dear, we have a
granddaughter whom we’ve never seen. Lucy. I hope she’s like you.”
Vicki must have looked puzzled, because Mrs. Bryant smiled again.
“We’ll talk about that tomorrow. Good-by for now, little Miss Barr.”