It is time, and there is a breeze of refreshing excitement in the stale Qatari summer.

Shortly after attacking a medley of small Indian dishes in the restaurant down the road from our accommodation, I shower and shave, the tingling of the desalinized water accentuating the shivers down my body. A combination of fear and exhilaration for tonight, I will be flying.
The crew bus pick several batch mates and I at the same time, for in a few hours, all of us will be scattered around the Gulf gasping for air and minding our every steps in one of the last stages of training.

At the crew terminal, the cold briefing rooms seem oblivious to the smothering hot night outside. A crew of five await for me and we sit down in a tight circle.
We are operating a night-stop flight to Damman. Due to Saudi regulations, we will not be able to leave the aircraft, forcing us to stay inside the metal tube for about three hours.

I awkwardly answer Safety & Emergency Procedures and First Aid questions, mentally congratulating myself for knowing the answers. Before I notice, we are being bussed to the sleek Airbus 320, rushing through our security checks only minutes before the passengers embark.
It is a light load and a quiet flight, yet running with a full meal service in this short one-hour hop across the Arabian Sea proves to be a challenge to time and stamina.

     ‘Boy how we ran !, we were handing everything so fast ( we were about to pretty much chew the passengers’ food so they could finish faster) and then a fast clearance, since the plane was approaching into the airport.’

We land at almost midnight and the aircraft turns dark and mellow. We munch on some dates, listen to music and sit, the three hours inside the aircraft slowly progressing as the terminal just meters before us stands unreachable.
At dawn, passengers clog the air bridge for the return leg, departing shortly before an Emirates flight arrives and my stomach shrinks. In panic and with a full flight, I rush with my first service ever and forget to serve an entire row, sparking both chuckles and irritation from morning passengers.
Eight apologies later and once trays are cleared from sight, the aircraft glides over the Qatar Pearl and lands at Doha International.
Somewhat victorious, the sweat drips through my white shirt as I walk out of the crew terminal in the hazy sun for I have survived my first ‘supply flight’.

Five in the early morning the next day, mentally prepared and feeling notoriously more comfortable with the now-to-be routine, I see the street lights of Al Mansoura retreating for the night and growing dim in the sunrise. The airport in the distance bustling with the morning flights bank.

Once the briefing was completed, the wide-bodied Airbus A330 is boarded. I find a bit of comfort in the fact that a batch mate from Bolivia is also training on the same flight, both of us being assigned jump seats at the very back of the plane, away from passengers and surrounded by the aluminium boxes of the back galley.

The flight lasts about fifty five minutes, which is enough for a service of sweets & freshets when the safety briefing rings through the screens, a sandwich with a drink after take off and final clearance, before the aircraft flies over the high-rise line up at Sheik Zayed Road and U-turns towards the bumpy runway at Dubai International Aiport, the busiest in the Middle East.
Turnaround times for this flights are notoriously short. Enough for security checks, a run to the bathroom and a door procedures training. Passengers arrive before I even notice and we jet off over the half-built World Islands for the short hop to the Qatari peninsula.

 

 

The next day brings exciting news: It is ‘Wings Day’, which marks my official graduation as cabin crew.
In a short and simple ceremony held in one of the many floors of the Qatar Airways Tower, we are handed our official name badges and share some chocolate cake, whilst a few words are said by the four trainers who accompanied us in this eight-week journey.

A feeling of accomplishment rush through my head amidst memories of long commutes in the wet streets of wintry Sao Paulo, to a time in which the thought of exploring the world was nothing more than a distant fantasy with no real timeline.

‘It feels good, now I’m sure that there will be no routine in my life anymore and that will finally see the world I always wanted to.
Also feeling a little worried to know that I’m not protected anymore and that I need to get used to pretty much everything as soon as possible, specially because my roster for this month is so hectic (again, I love it ).
On the other hand , I am really gonna miss my batch mates, we were like brothers for the past weeks , learned a lot about them, helped them, they helped me and since we were from 16 different nationalities, I felt able to see and open my mind to new cultures, to deal with that and to learn about their countries ( and how to swear in 16 different languages ).’

Dubai is next, and a batch of twenty brand new cabin crew take up two rows of the crowded Airbus 330 and travel the short distance across a light blue sea for an afternoon of Ditching training at the Emirates Aviation College.
Hats off to Emirates Airline and their incredible simulator, which can recreate emergency situations like no other. Rough air, red lights that simulate fire and a freezing water swimming pool accessible through slide rafts are amongst the training items we have to last tick before we are fully qualified as crew members.

Armed with a bright yellow life jacket, I conceal the wound of my recent surgery under four layers of gauze and briefly swim in the freezing water as we simulate a landing in the ocean, closing the training chapters for now and starting the beginning of my flying hours.

Back in Doha, our good-byes as a training batch are said, a little video is taped and the twenty individuals who have now become cabin crew are ready to spread their wings across the globe.

Batch 426 is now clear for take off.