Airport Read Online Free PDF

any kind of complaint, to let him know and he would report what really happened.” Tanya smiled. “So, you see–there are nice people, too.”
    “I know,” the girl said. “There aren’t many, but when you do get one like that, who’s nice to you, and cheerful, you feel you want to hug him.”
    “Unfortunately we can’t do that, any more than we should throw timetables. Our job is to treat everyone alike, and be courteous, even when passengers are not.”
    “Yes, Mrs. Livingston.”
    Patsy Smith would be all right, Tanya decided. Apparently, she hadn’t thought of quitting, as some airls did who suffered similar experiences. In fact, now that she was over her emotion, Patsy seemed to have the kind of resilience which would be helpful to her in future.
    God knows, Tanya thought, you needed resilience–and some toughness–in dealing with the traveling public, whatever job you held.
    Take Reservations.
    Downtown in reservation departments, she was aware, personal pressures would be even greater than at the airport. Since the storm began, reservation clerks would have made thousands of calls advising passengers of delays and rearrangements. It was a job the clerks all hated because people whom they called were invariably bad-tempered and frequently abusive. Airline delays seemed to arouse a latent savagery in those affected by them. Men talked insultingly to women telephonists, and even people who at other times were courteous and mild-mannered, turned snarly and disagreeable. New York-bound flights were worst of all. Reservation clerks had been known to refuse the assignment of telephoning news of delay or cancellation to a flight load of passengers destined for New York, preferring to risk their jobs rather than face the torrent of invective they knew awaited them. Tanya had often speculated on what it was about New York which infected those headed there with a kind of medicine-dance fervor to arrive.
    But, for whatever reasons, she knew there would be resignations among airline staffs–in Reservations and elsewhere–when the present emergency was over. There always were. A few nervous breakdowns could be counted on, too, usually among the younger girls, more sensitive to passengers’ rudeness and ill humor. Constant politeness, even when you were trained for it, was a strain which took a heavy toll.
    She was glad, though, that Patsy Smith would not be among the casualties.
    There was a knock at the outer door. It opened, and Mel Bakersfeld leaned in. He was wearing fleece-lined boots and carrying a heavy topcoat. “I was coming by,” he told Tanya. “I can drop back later, if you like.”
    “Please stay.” She smiled a welcome. “We’ve almost finished.”
    She watched him as he walked to a chair across the room. He looked tired, Tanya thought.
    She switched her attention back, filled in a voucher, and handed it to the girl. “Give this to the taxi dispatcher, Patsy, and he’ll send you home. Have a good night’s rest, and we’ll expect you back tomorrow, bright and breezy.”
    When the girl bad gone, Tanya swung her chair around to face Mel’s. She said brightly, “Hullo.”
    He put down a newspaper he had been glancing at, and grinned. “Hi!”
    “You got my note?”
    “I came to thank you for it. Though I might have made it here without.” Gesturing to the door through which the girl had gone, he asked, “What was all that about? Battle fatigue?”
    “Yes.” She told him what had happened.
    Mel laughed. “I’m tired, too. How about sending me off in a taxi?”
    Tanya looked at him, inquiringly. Her eyes–a bright, clear blue–had a quality of directness. Her head was tilted, and an overhead light reflected red highlights from her hair. A slim figure, yet with a fullness which the trim airline uniform heightened… Mel was conscious, as at other times, of her desirability and warmth.
    “I might consider it,” she said. “If the taxi goes to my place, and you let me cook you dinner.