In the world of air travel, flight attendants do much more than serve drinks and snacks—they are highly trained safety professionals, responsible for the well-being of all passengers. Among the many safety protocols they follow, one unusual practice often catches the eye: flight attendants sitting on their hands during takeoff and landing. While it may look odd to the average traveler, there is an important reason behind this procedure.
Image Credit: @_hennylim_ TikTok
Let’s explore the purpose of this practice and how it plays a critical role in ensuring safety during flights.
The Bracing Position Explained by a Flight Attendant
If you’ve ever noticed flight attendants buckling up in their jump seats and adopting a particular posture—sitting on their hands as the plane takes off or prepares to land—you might wonder what they’re doing. In a viral TikTok video, Cebu Pacific flight attendant Henny Lim sheds light on this often-overlooked protocol.
According to Lim, the posture flight attendants take, known as the bracing position, involves several key actions:
Fastening seatbelts securely
Sitting upright
Placing hands on their thighs with thumbs tucked in
Keeping arms relaxed
Ensuring their feet are flat on the floor
While this position may seem strange to passengers, it’s designed to serve a crucial purpose, especially in the event of an emergency.
Purpose of the Bracing Position
The main goal of the bracing position is to minimize movement and reduce the risk of injury if a crash or emergency landing occurs. During an impact, bodies can be thrown forward with significant force, leading to dangerous, uncontrolled movements, or flailing, which increases the risk of injury. By sitting on their hands and securing themselves, flight attendants limit their body’s motion and protect their limbs from potential harm.
Additionally, flight attendants use this time to mentally prepare for emergency scenarios. As Lim explains, this involves conducting a “silent review” where they mentally go over safety procedures, emergency exits, equipment, and commands. This mental preparation ensures they can act swiftly and effectively in the event of an emergency, prioritizing passenger safety at all times.
The Taste of Love: A Father’s Tribute
The kitchen, once a haven of warmth and laughter, now echoed with the clatter of pots and pans. John, a man more accustomed to spreadsheets than soufflés, stood amidst the chaos, his brow furrowed in concentration. Pancake batter, a lumpy, greenish-grey concoction, clung stubbornly to the sides of the bowl. His wife, Sarah, would have laughed, her eyes twinkling.
He missed her laughter. He missed her easy grace in the kitchen, the way she hummed along to the radio while whipping up culinary magic. He missed the way she’d kiss his cheek and say, “Don’t worry, darling, I’ve got this.” Now, he was adrift in a sea of burnt toast and forgotten recipes, his kitchen a battlefield rather than a haven.
His daughter, Lily, a bright-eyed girl of eight, watched him with a mixture of amusement and concern. “Dad,” she’d say, her voice gentle, “It’s okay if it’s not perfect.” But her words, meant to comfort, only served to deepen his sense of inadequacy. He longed to recreate the magic of Sarah’s cooking, to fill the void left by her absence with the comforting aroma of home-cooked meals.
One morning, determined to surprise Lily, John decided to try his hand at heart-shaped pancakes. He watched countless online tutorials, meticulously measuring ingredients, and even invested in a heart-shaped pan. The batter, this time, was a pale golden color, smooth and even. He poured it carefully into the pan, his heart pounding with a mixture of hope and trepidation.
Lily, ever the curious observer, watched him with wide eyes. “What are you making, Daddy?” she asked, her voice filled with excitement.
“Something special,” he replied, his voice a little hoarse.
As the pancakes cooked, a wave of memories washed over him. He remembered Sarah’s laughter, her playful banter with Lily, the warmth that radiated from their kitchen. He remembered the way Lily would eagerly devour Sarah’s pancakes, her face smeared with syrup.
Finally, he flipped the pancakes, his breath catching in his throat. They were golden brown and perfectly heart-shaped. He carefully transferred them to plates, adding a generous dollop of butter and a drizzle of maple syrup.
Lily’s eyes widened as she saw the pancakes. “Wow, Daddy!” she exclaimed, her voice filled with awe. “They look just like Mommy used to make!”
John’s heart swelled. He watched as Lily took a bite, her eyes closing in delight. “It tastes like the ones Mom made!” she declared, her voice filled with happiness.
Tears welled up in John’s eyes. He knew it wasn’t perfect, that the edges were a little burnt and the syrup a bit messy. But in that moment, it didn’t matter. He had made Lily smile. He had brought a little bit of Sarah back into their lives, one delicious pancake at a time.
From that day on, John continued to cook, his kitchen slowly transforming from a battlefield into a sanctuary. He learned new recipes, experimented with flavors, and even found himself enjoying the process. He knew he would never fully replace Sarah, but he could learn to cook with love, with memory, and with the hope of creating new memories with his daughter. And that, he realized, was a gift in itself.
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