Hi there, fellow adventurers! Buckle up, because I'm about to take you on a wild, hilarious, and unforgettable journey. Picture this: a group of cabin crew members, fresh from a long-haul flight, embarking on an adventure in the heart of Japan. Our destination? Tokyo Disney World! 

Our story begins as we enjoyed our first moments in Asia, being totally drowned in the jetlag, but the anticipation of our layover adventure kept our spirits high. We quickly checked the area, made a plan accompanied by a huge brainstorm and hopped onto the train to Tokyo Disney World. 

As we approached the park, the sight of Cinderella's Castle against the Tokyo skyline was nothing short of magical. We could hardly contain our excitement. The moment we stepped through the gates, we were greeted by the infectious energy and the enchanting atmosphere. We were not just cabin crew members on a layover anymore; we were kids in a candy store.

Our first stop was the iconic Space Mountain. As we stood in line, we couldn't help but laugh at James, our chief purser, who was visibly nervous. He had a fear of roller coasters, but we had all made a pact to try everything together. As we rocketed through the dark, James' screams were louder than the ride's sound effects. His fear turned into exhilaration, and by the time we disembarked, he was the first to suggest we go again!

Next, we ventured into the Pirates of the Caribbean ride. We were all in stitches as Sarah, our usually poised and elegant flight attendant, started to mimic Jack Sparrow's swagger and accent. She had us all saying "Arr matey!" and "Shiver me timbers!" for the rest of the day. 

The highlight of our adventure, however, was the parade. As the music started and the characters began to dance, we found ourselves swept up in the magic. We danced, we sang, and we laughed until our sides hurt. At one point, Mickey Mouse himself came over and gave us a group hug. It was a moment of pure joy that we'll never forget.

Our adventure wasn't just about the rides and the characters, though. We also indulged in some of the park's famous snacks. We tried everything from Mickey-shaped ice cream bars to popcorn in flavors we never knew existed. Green tea popcorn, anyone? 

And let's not forget about the shopping! We must have spent hours in the various stores, picking out souvenirs for ourselves and gifts for our loved ones back home. By the end of the day, we were laden with Disney merchandise. 

As the day turned into night, we found ourselves at the park's grand finale - the fireworks display. We stood together, a group of friends far from home, watching the sky light up in a riot of colors. It was the perfect end to an unforgettable day.

Our Tokyo Disney World adventure was more than just a fun layover. It was a day filled with laughter, camaraderie, and unforgettable memories. It reminded us that no matter where we are in the world, and no matter how tiring our jobs can be, there's always room for a little magic.

So, here's to the cabin crew - the adventurers, the dreamers, the kids at heart. May our layovers always be as magical and adventurous as ours ✨ 

Once upon a time, in the thrilling life of a flight attendant (that's me, by the way), I was bestowed with the golden opportunity to gallivant around the globe. But, let me tell you, my recent week-long layover in the land of the rising sun, Japan, was an adventure that would make even Indiana Jones green with envy. 

After a flight from California that felt longer than the director's cut of "The Lord of the Rings" trilogy, I landed in Tokyo. The time difference was a beast, a monstrous creature that had me feeling like a zombie from "The Walking Dead." My eyelids were heavier than a sumo wrestler's lunch, and I was about ready to faceplant into my sushi. But, as soon as I disembarked from the plane, I was hit with a wave of excitement that was more electrifying than Pikachu's thunderbolt. I was finally in Japan, and I was ready to karate chop my way through the jet lag!

I rendezvoused with my crew at the hotel, a motley group of adventurers ready to conquer Tokyo. We were like a band of samurais, armed not with swords, but with our insatiable curiosity. We embarked on our quest to explore the city, visiting some of Tokyo's most beautiful spots, including the Imperial Palace, the Meiji Shrine, and the Tokyo Tower. We also spent some time in the Japanese gardens, which were so stunning, they could make a cherry blossom blush.

One of my favorite memories from our trip was watching the sunset over the city from the top of the Tokyo Tower. It was a sight so peaceful and beautiful, it made me feel like I was in a Studio Ghibli film. I half expected Totoro to appear and offer me a ride on the Catbus. I had to pinch myself to make sure I wasn't dreaming. 

Our culinary adventures were nothing short of epic. We dove headfirst into the local food scene, trying some of the weirdest and most wonderful dishes. We sampled takoyaki (octopus balls), which were so good, they had us doing the octopus dance. We also tried okonomiyaki (Japanese pancakes), which were fluffier than a cloud and tastier than a dream. And then there was natto (fermented soybeans), a dish that's as divisive as pineapple on pizza. But we loved it! 

One day, we decided to visit the Japanese Disney World. It was like stepping into a fairy tale. We rode all the rides, ate all the food, and met all the characters. It was like being a kid again, only this time, we could afford the giant Mickey Mouse balloons! 

As our layover came to an end, I started to feel sentimental. I both didn't want to leave Japan and couldn't wait to be back home at the same time. I felt like a kid being told it's time to leave the playground. But I knew that I would always cherish the memories I made there. And as I boarded the plane back to California, I couldn't help but smile. After all, in the immortal words of Dr. Seuss, "Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened." And boy, did it happen!

As I began my journey back to the land of sunshine and surf, the golden state of California, I couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment that would make even an Olympic gold medalist blush. I had not only survived but thrived during a week-long layover in the land of the rising sun, Japan. I had emerged from the other side of this cultural immersion with a newfound appreciation for the culture, the cuisine, and the citizens that made Japan such a unique and vibrant place. But the most profound realization that hit me like a ton of bricks was this: I was absolutely, positively, over-the-moon ecstatic to be heading home. 

Home, sweet home, where the air is as sweet as a freshly baked apple pie, the sun shines brighter than a thousand spotlights, and the people are friendlier than a golden retriever on a sunny day. After a week of indulging in sushi that was so fresh it practically swam onto my plate, and ramen that was so delicious it could make a grown man weep, I was ready for a good old-fashioned American brunch by the ocean. Pancakes, bacon, and eggs, oh my! Or perhaps a homemade seafood dinner that would make even the most seasoned food critic salivate. 

As I reclined in my jumpseat, once the service was done and our plane was preparing to touch down on familiar soil, a smile spread across my face like butter on hot toast. I was home, and boy, was I happy to be here. But let's not get it twisted, Japan was an absolute blast. The bustling streets of Tokyo were a sensory overload, with more people than a rock concert and the food... oh, the food! 

I consumed so much sushi and ramen that I'm fairly certain I'll be having dreams about being chased by giant sushi rolls and swimming in pools of ramen for the foreseeable future. But the absolute cherry on top of the Japanese adventure sundae was the people. Every single person I met was as friendly as a long-lost friend, making me feel welcome in their homeland. 

But as the saying goes, there's no place like home, and as much as I enjoyed my Japanese escapade, I was ready to be back in my own bed, in my own city, in my own sunny California. And who knows? Maybe one day I'll find myself on another layover in Japan, ready to dive back into the culture, the food, and the people. But for now, I'm just happy to be home, ready to see what other adventures the world has in store for me. So here's to the next chapter, the next journey, the next adventure. But for now, pass me the pancakes!

 Welcome back!

I'm writing to you today with a heavy heart, a heart that has been bruised and battered, a heart that has been pushed to its limits and yet, has somehow found the strength to keep beating. I'm writing to you today to share my story, my truth, and my journey as a former Emirates flight attendant, now luckily living and flying from California, USA.

If you've been following my blog, you know that I've been sharing my experiences about working for Emirates. You've read about the bullying, the physical abuse, and the toll it took on my mental health. You've read about the heart neurosis, the PTSD, and the countless other health problems I've had to endure. You've read about the trauma. 

Unfortunately, in between of my last article and today's post, I sadly found out that one of my friends tried to suicide in her cabin crew accommodation in Dubai... I think no additional comment needed here... So I suppose you can imagine how I feel now again, right?

Today, I want to say a heartfelt thank you. Thank you to each and every one of you who have read my posts, who have reached out with words of support, who have stood up against the company's behavior, and who have shared your own stories of horror hidden behind the Emirates uniform. Thank you for hundreds of messages and comments standing by my side and sharing your battles. Your words, your stories, your strength have been a balm for my heart. 

Also, I am humbled and moved by the number of Qatar Airways crew members who have also come forward, who texted me to share their own experiences. I am grateful to those who have thanked me for speaking out and making them realize what's going on, that my posts have made them reconsider their dream of working for Emirates, saving them from potential suffering and mental terror. 

I'm happy to read your comments and messages that seeing me share my story made you feel less alone, more united, and stronger. You are not alone. You are not bad. You are not weak. You are a hero. We are heroes. We are survivors.

Now, let me show you something. In addition to this article I've posted a collage of three pictures of myself, each one revealing the truth behind the perfect Emirates flight attendant image that everyone saw on social media.

The first picture was taken a year ago in the Emirates crew bus. I was trying to hide how I felt, swallowing my tears in silence on the way back home from a flight.

The second picture was taken in my cabin crew accommodation. I was too overwhelmed to pretend that I was okay. I was crying, feeling helpless, seeing no sense of life. Yet, I had to put on my uniform and the mask of a happy flight attendant, smiling as if everything was perfectly fine. This became my daily routine, my daily struggle.

The third picture is the one (and one of many) you've all seen on social media. The picture of me seemingly the happiest person in the world. But, as you now know, not everything is as it seems. Social media can be deceptive, and even the biggest smile can be just a mask to cover a deep, internal pain.

I want to remind you all to stay strong, to stay healthy, and to never give up on yourself. You are worth more than any job, any company, any uniform. You are worth more than the abuse and the trauma. You are worth more than the tears and the pain. You are worth more than the mask you wear to hide your suffering. 

Burn, Emirates. Burn for the pain you've caused, for the lives you've ruined, for the dreams you've shattered. Burn for the truth that is now being revealed all around the world, coming from hundreds of hurt by you cabin crew, on every social media channel, for the stories breaking hearts. Burn for the justice that is long overdue.

With all my heart,

M.

Two weeks ago, on the 20th of August 2023, I woke up to a government SMS notification that would change the course of my life. The message was a stark warning about an impending hurricane, Hilary, set to ravage Southern California. The notification painted a grim picture of a potentially life-threatening amount of rainfall expected to cause flash, urban, and arroyo flooding, including landslides, mudslides, and debris flows. Dangerous to locally catastrophic flooding impacts were expected in my area. The advice was clear: secure property, hide indoors, and follow the local authorities' instructions.

Despite the warning, a part of me was drawn to the outside world. I decided to risk it and take a walk to the beach, pier, and promenade. Within an hour, the sky transformed from a vibrant palette of colors to a dark, heavy blue, pregnant with ominous clouds. The wind grew stronger, more dangerous, accompanied by a torrential downpour. The beach and paths began to flood, and trees broke, crashing onto parked cars. The most popular area of my town quickly became a ghost town as police officers started urging everyone to seek shelter indoors.

A battle waged within me. One part of me was terrified, urging me to return home as soon as possible. The other part was drawn to the chaos, wanting to stay outside to witness and document everything happening. The latter won, and despite my fear, I managed to walk around, capturing videos of the unfolding disaster. I posted these on my Instagram stories and reels, providing a real-time account of the hurricane's wrath.

However, when more safety alerts started flooding my phone, and debris began flying around, I realized the gravity of the situation. I retreated indoors, thinking I would be safe. But then, the unthinkable happened. An earthquake, measuring 6 on the Richter scale, decided to join the party. Roads and beaches turned into rivers, buildings and properties were damaged, and hundreds of people were left terrified.

The night was a symphony of chaos, filled with noise, whistling, and banging from outside. The feeling of danger and curiosity kept me awake. When dawn broke, I decided to venture outside, donning my gumboots to navigate the new landscape. What I saw was surreal. My town had turned into an ocean. Cars were sinking, trash floated on the water, palm trees were broken, cars crashed, windows shattered, and the beach around the pier was a wild river with waterfalls cascading into the ocean.

For two days, we endured the wrath of Hurricane Hilary and the accompanying earthquake. Then, just a day later, it was as if nothing had happened. The town returned to its normal Hollywood-style life. But I knew what I knew. I had seen the power of nature, and I had survived. I was a survivor of the hurricane and earthquake in California. And for that, I raised a glass in a silent toast. 

Cheers to survival, resilience, and the indomitable human spirit.

Dear Readers,

When I penned my first post about the true colors of Emirates, I made a promise to you all. I promised to share my personal experiences, the serious health consequences I faced as a result of working for this airline. I've touched on some of these issues in previous articles, mentioning the problems I started having with my heart and nervous system. But today, I am ready to share the most serious and the most hurtful part of my journey. 

The toxic atmosphere, the inhumane treatment, the daily humiliation, bullying, and harassment I endured while working for Emirates took a heavy toll on my health, both physically and mentally. I began suffering from overwhelming anxiety, panic attacks, arrhythmia, loss of focus, crying every day, zero joy of life, depressive mood and unbearable insomnia that drained me of all my energy. I would wake up crying and screaming every night, my digestive system in turmoil as stress made me sick to my stomach. The fear of what the next day would bring, of what new humiliation or mistreatment I would have to endure, was a constant, terrifying presence in my life.

The spiral of negativity and stress tightened its grip on me with each passing day. Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, I experienced a brutal, animal-like physical abuse from one of the "higher rank" male employees of Emirates. The company, in its infinite wisdom (obviously), chose to sweep the incident under the rug, ignoring it and acting as if nothing had happened. That day changed me, and my life, forever as I couldn't and still can't remove it from my memory (and probably, despite healing and being happy now, it will always stay somewhere in my mind).

From that day forward, I lived in a state of constant fear and danger alert mode. I experienced many unexpected paralysis episodes, chest pains that felt like an electric shock, and memory problems. I would be in the middle of a task and suddenly freeze, forgetting what I was doing or saying. I couldn't keep food down, I cried day and night, I was shaking and scared to leave my bedroom, let alone go to work but still, I had to. I felt alone, knowing that I couldn't count on anyone's help and that justice would never catch up to the man who had hurt me.

Panic attacks became a daily occurrence. I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep, and my heart would race one moment and feel like it painfully was stopping the next. Headaches and tears were my constant companions. I felt hopeless, helpless, and guilty, as if it was all my fault. The company made me feel like I was the one who had triggered the abusive behavior of this man. I would wake up screaming "NO!!!" every night, lost in a tantrum of fear and despair.

I was a wreck, my hands shaking so much that I couldn't hold a glass of water without spilling it. I would listen to people speak but couldn't remember anything they said. I felt like I had no future, like nothing good would ever happen to me again. I felt destroyed, dead inside. I couldn't trust anyone, I felt like I was losing my mind, like I was not myself anymore and what's more I started losing consciousness, experiencing hyperventilation, extremely high blood pressure, suddenly coming and going sight problems, chest pain attacks and after one particularly long blackout, I ended up in the hospital in the cardiological intensive care unit attached to many machines controlling every signal coming from my body. The diagnosis after many tests? Advanced heart neurosis.

But that's not all, my dear readers. The story takes a darker turn. Some time later, when I had already left the confines of Emirates, when I had already found solace in another country, when I had already begun to rebuild my life with a new job, I was still plagued by an intense problem. Insomnia, mood swings, uncontrolled bouts of crying at night, nightmares that left me drenched in cold sweat, and an unexplainable fear that clung to me like a second skin. I thought it was merely a case of struggling to adapt to a new timezone, an extended bout of jetlag that refused to let go. So, I sought medical help, hoping for a prescription that would help me sleep.

But the doctor, after listening to my symptoms, refused to prescribe any medication. Instead, she asked me a question that sent chills down my spine, "What happened in your life?" She immediately referred me to a therapist in the same clinic. Very quickly, the therapist gave me a diagnosis that left me reeling. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, or PTSD as it is commonly known.

  And no, it's not a condition that only affects soldiers who have survived the horrors of war. It can affect anyone who has experienced a traumatic event, such as physical abuse, like I did.

If it hadn't been for my husband, who stood by me like a rock, who helped me navigate the stormy seas of my trauma, who supported me through the darkest days, I wouldn't have been able to reclaim my life. His unwavering love and care were my lifelines. I also owe a debt of gratitude to my current employer, who showed me that I was deserving of the best, who together with the doctor and my husband made me understand that I'm still me, that I'm not bad, not crazy, just hurt by the monster, and heal in part, from my traumatic past.

So, here's a heartfelt thank you to Emirates for almost completely destroying my health, for pushing me to the brink, for making me feel worthless and devoid of purpose, for almost extinguishing the spark of the cheerful girl I once was, coming to work for you and thinking you were my dream.

I have only two words for you, Emirates: FUCK YOU. I hope karma serves you the justice you so richly deserve.