Three Perfect Days: New Orleans - United Hub
Hemispheres

Three Perfect Days: New Orleans

By The Hub team, March 15, 2017

Story and Photography by Sam Polcer | Hemispheres, March 2017

Few places know how to throw a party like the city that gave us jazz, the po'boy, the Sazerac, and the expression "Laissez les bons temps rouler." Indulgence, creativity, and celebration are cornerstones of the culture here. The most common dinner-table topic is tomorrow's lunch. People dance with strangers in the street because that's just what you do. And even as the city nears its 300th birthday next year, age has not slowed it down; reinvention and renewal are a part of life here. Musicians, chefs, artists, entrepreneurs—even the lushes staggering down Bourbon Street in the early hours—all are driven by the bright belief that tomorrow will bring something new. "Let the good times roll," indeed.

Day 1 image graphic

In which Sam ignores good advice, discovers two secret gardens, and applauds a bag of fish

My younger brother, Ben, a jazz musician, doesn't dispense advice often, but upon hearing I was going to New Orleans, he weighed in on Bourbon Street: "If you only have three days, you can probably skip it."

Having enjoyed a fortifying night's rest at the hip Seattle export Ace Hotel, I start the day by ignoring my brother's advice, making my way through a lobby of leather couches, eclectic art, and dark wood finishes and heading out into the sunshine in search of the most theatrically hedonistic spot in the U.S.

No more than 10 steps into the French Quarter, I find myself dancing around the sudsy rivulets left behind by the street cleaners. For a city that so famously honors the past, New Orleans sure seems in a hurry to put last night behind it—which is more than can be said for the pair of imbibers who emerge from a doorway, blinking, attempting to solve The Riddle of the Upside-Down Cellphone.

A Brandan Odums mural in the BywaterA Brandan Odums mural in the Bywater

Farther "downriver"—cardinal directions are scoffed at here, due to a grid that takes its cues from the winding Mississippi—Bourbon Street reveals its quieter side, the wrought-iron balconies and signs promoting daiquiri-and-pizza combos giving way to homes with painted shutters and manicured foliage.

A block after Bourbon turns into Pauger Street, I hang a right, and I'm at Horn's, a casual eatery on a quiet corner of the Marigny, a madly colorful neighborhood where the strains of practicing violinists drown out the traffic. Waiting for me at a covered sidewalk table is Catherine Todd, cofounder of Where Y'Art, a local gallery whose online branch allows users not only to view and purchase the works of local artists but to chat with them as well.

A native New Orleanian, Todd has offered to show me around the Bywater, a J-shaped neighborhood east of the Quarter that was once plantation land and is now a flourishing artist enclave. Despite its preponderance of hip restaurants and rising rents, the Bywater mercifully avoids Brooklyn comparisons—the Big Easy is the only place you'd find the sun-drenched Creole cottages, the bushes draped with Mardi Gras beads, and the swampy, edge-of-the-Earth stillness that surrounds you here.

Catherine Todd, co-founder, Where Y\u2019artCatherine Todd, co-founder, Where Y'art

Todd is a part of an insurgence of businesspeople who are setting up shop in the city's converted warehouses and formerly shuttered storefronts. "The entrepreneurial community is huge," she says. "There's a compacted creative energy here that sparks true originality." Breakfast served, our waitress notices how eagerly I'm digging into my ample order of fried-oyster Benedict atop cornbread. "Waffle for the table?" she suggests, gently. "Sure," I mumble. "For the table."

From here, we walk two blocks to Todd's gallery, which has bright street artworks displayed on peeling plaster and brick walls. Then we hop over to the New Orleans Art Center, a warren of studios and exhibition spaces in the Ninth Ward. In the main space is an ambitious photography show featuring work by Louisiana artists, including a hauntingly beautiful image of a clarinet transformed (not destroyed) by Hurricane Katrina, its metallic components oxidized into striated patterns that seem to glow.

Next up is Good Children, which was one of the first galleries to plant its flag in the neighborhood, about a decade ago. It's in a white box space run by a 12-artist collective that includes Louisiana-born Brian Guidry, who is waiting for us when we arrive. Guidry's work runs the gamut from collages of found materials to paintings, some of which use flattened La Croix drink boxes as canvases. "Grapefruit works well," he says of the medium.

"The New Orleans dialect is a little-known slice of the English language known as Yat, which stems from our tendency to shorten any expression into something slurrier. Hence, 'Where you at?' becomes 'Where y'at?' becomes 'Yat?'" —Catherine Todd

Upon exiting the dim space, Todd shields her eyes. "I feel like I just walked out of a casino!" she says, and then: "Come on, let's close out this tour with a visit to a giant alligator." She is referring to Nnamdi the Gator, a vast purple mural by Devin DeWulf. We arrive to find the artist applying the finishing touches. He seems to be in a buoyant mood: "Hey, want to hear some fun facts about 'gators?"

Having learned that alligators are capable of eating 23 percent of their body weight in one meal, I head for lunch at the Joint, a Bywater mainstay where co-owner Pete Breen delivers a basket that's straining to hold smoky brisket, juicy pulled pork, and tender dry-rubbed ribs. This type of slow-cooked barbecue wasn't easy to find before Breen and his wife came to town. "New Orleans always had chicken, ribs, and soul food," he says, but before he can finish the thought, a guy at the next table initiates a barbecue-related discussion so complex you might mistake the two men for chemists.

"That's New Orleans for you," Breen says when the guy has left. "He could have called his wife, she would have come down, and we'd be sitting here for another two hours."

I head up Esplanade Avenue, past blocks of 19th-century mansions, then walk off my meat basket with a stroll through the Sydney and Walda Besthoff Sculpture Garden. It's a lovely spot, its 200-year-old live oaks draped with Spanish moss and interspersed with scores of artworks ranging from Renoir's bronze Venus Victorius to Leandro Erlich's gravity-defying protest piece Window and Ladder—Too Late for Help. Young musicians lazily strum guitars alongside a lagoon. The effect is mesmerizing.

Ribs at the JointRibs at the Joint

My next stop is another secret garden of sorts, this one hidden behind a two-story corrugated steel wall. Inside, the nonprofit outfit New Orleans Airlift recently created Music Box Village, a shantytown of treehouselike sound sculptures: Stairs are keyboards, window shutters are drums, pluckable piano wire is strung across walls. It's like a park-size music studio codesigned by Rube Goldberg and Dr. Seuss. The venue is hosting a performance tonight by local outfit Tank and the Bangas, but before the show Airlift founders Delaney Martin and Jay Pennington (aka DJ Rusty Lazer) allow me to rattle, bang, honk, and squawk my way through the structures, which causes the sound techs to wince.

Mercifully, the performers soon commandeer the houses for a musical adaptation of Alice in Wonderland. A rapt audience sits on picnic blankets as Tank, in a blue ball gown and golden tiara, joins a trio of ballerinas in a whimsical musical yarn. Things take a turn for the weird when the "Queen of Bounce," Big Freedia, starts rapping into the mouthpiece of a modified phone booth topped by a spinning loudspeaker. Only in New Orleans.

I go from looking glass to Collins glass across town at the recently reopened Pontchartrain Hotel's Caribbean Room. A smoky, tiki-esque rum cocktail is followed by a spicy, sweet appetizer of crispy oysters topped with bacon jam, blue cheese, and a spot of jalapeño. For the finale, a waiter slices into a piping hot paper bag to reveal delicate pompano, fingerling potatoes, saffron, and shrimp soaking in a crab butter sauce. It's so good, when the waiter asks me how it was, I clap.

A piece in the Sydney and Walda Besthoff Sculpture GardenA piece in the Sydney and Walda Besthoff Sculpture Garden

As I leave, a hostess tells me the waiting area outside the dining room is one of the most Instagrammed spots in all of the Big Easy, thanks to a painting of New Orleans hip-hop star Lil Wayne with an order of the restaurant's signature Mile High Pie, his eyes closed and teeth bared in an expression that can only be described as rapturous. Maybe I should have had the pie.

There's time for a final cocktail at the Pontchartrain's fashionable rooftop bar, Hot Tin. I order a Menage Mule—the bar's floral, Frenchified take on the classic Moscow Mule—and then I order another. All around me, the city glimmers, its unsteady constellation of lights sending a kind of coded message: "Oh go on, one more."

Day 2 image graphic

In which Sam wakes up to Satchmo, finds a freak flag to fly, and tries a classic cocktail more than once

I'm roused from my sleep by the historic, tourist-stuffed St. Charles streetcar rolling down Carondelet Avenue, visible from underneath the single eyelid I've pried open in my corner room at the Ace.

The decor in the room is as thought out and impeccably disheveled as the staff's haircuts, with an assortment of Deco-inspired furniture, vintage accents, and approximately 50 shades of black. There's also a bedside Martin guitar, along with a turntable and a small vinyl collection by the window. Having bungled a few chords on the guitar, I thumb through the records, passing on The Art of the Japanese Bamboo Flute for Louis Armstrong's "What a Wonderful World." When he gets to the bit about "the bright, blessed day," I glance at the window. Maybe a little too bright.

I head out and make my way through Lafayette Square to Revelator Coffee Company, purveyor of "third wave" artisanal joe. I supplement the high-end caffeine with a croissant and a bottle of Big Easy Bucha kombucha, and board the historic sleep-disturbing streetcar feeling much revived. We roll along for a while on St. Charles Avenue, heading upriver, until it's time for me to jump out for some shopping on Magazine Street.

Garden District architectureGarden District architecture

First, I swing by the candy-toned gallery of Ashley Longshore, who painted that portrait of Lil Wayne. The sought-after artist (Penélope Cruz, Ryan Reynolds, and Eli Manning are collectors) leads me past her oversize paintings, folksy avant-garde depictions of famous faces, and through to her studio. "Anyone can come back here," she says. "But they may have to do some bedazzling. It's like, 'If you're gonna gawk, you're gonna glue while you gawk!'"

I dodge bedazzling duty and instead get Longshore's take on the local arts scene. "We celebrate weirdness and wildness in a way that no other city does," she says. "You'll see a herd of people in Elvis or Wonder Woman costumes and think, 'Oh, just another Saturday in New Orleans.' It's a place where people can really let their freak flag fly."

If you're in the market for freak flags, Magazine Street is a good place to start. My first stop is the quirky vintage shop Funky Monkey, where you can buy anything from a Hawaiian shirt to an astronaut helmet. At Saint Claude Social Club, hand-painted scarves share space with sequined dresses and French candles. At Defend New Orleans, a pierced shopkeeper presides over a selection of ironic posters, small-press books, and other dorm-room essentials (not surprisingly, another location recently opened at the Ace). I end up buying a black banner bearing a skull emblazoned with a fleur-de-lis, the symbol of New Orleans.

Robin Barnes, \u201cThe Songbird of New Orleans\u201dRobin Barnes, "The Songbird of New Orleans"

Mom's gift secured, I head for brunch at Cavan, a new "coastal American" restaurant set back from Magazine Street in a Victorian townhouse. I secure a table by the window and settle in with a Sazerac, a classic New Orleans whiskey-based drink that some believe to be America's oldest cocktail. Next comes a cast-iron skillet sizzling with buttery shrimp and grits, along with roasted tomato toast topped with goat cheese, bacon marmalade, and a fried egg. If ever there was a meal designed to make you smile, this is it.

After brunch, I go for a stroll through the tony Garden District and get lost among showy crepe myrtle trees and towering live oaks, peeping through rod-iron fences at block after block of Greek Revival and Italianate mansions. Initially a retreat for New Orleans' merchant class in the mid-19th century, the neighborhood now claims Sandra Bullock and John Goodman among its residents.

"People are sometimes shocked by how engaged I am with the audience. But that's New Orleans. They're always dancing and laughing and taking off their shoes by the end of the night." —Robin Barnes

I'm enjoying the walk; it's wonderfully serene, even with the three-cocktail-lunch crowds tottering out of celebrity chef factory Commander's Palace. Across the street is Lafayette Cemetery No. 1, one of the city's aboveground graveyards (when much of your city is below sea level, it doesn't make sense to put anything underground, even tombs) but pass on a tour, thinking the folks inside have the right idea. It's time to lie down.

Back downtown, I check in at the recently restored Windsor Court Hotel, where it's afternoon tea time, just off the lobby in Le Salon. It's an unabashedly refined welcome—in keeping with the decor and in stark contrast to the Ace—with polite laughter rising above a tinkling harp. As wonderful as it all is, I skip the tea, opting instead for a plump pillow, billowing curtains, and zzzzz. I awake just before dusk to catch a glimpse of the Mississippi from my balcony—the Windsor Court is one of the few big hotels in New Orleans to boast such a feature—and hit the town.

Dinner is nearby at Compère Lapin, housed in The Old No. 77 Hotel & Chandlery and helmed by Top Chef alum Nina Compton. Seated in a converted warehouse with industrial accents and faux–French farmhouse details, I gnaw on a starter of spiced pig ears dipped in smoked aioli. "New Orleans is such a beautiful city, and the people really appreciate food," Compton tells me between courses. It's easy to appreciate her Caribbean-meets-Creole seafood stew, and also the curried goat with sweet potato gnocchi and cashews.

A little later, at the Windsor Court's Polo Club Lounge, I let it slip to jazz singer Robin Barnes that I skipped dessert to catch the end of her first set. She flags down a waitress. "Two Bananas Foster, please!" The local girl has just learned that her latest album debuted on the Billboard Jazz chart, but her enthusiasm appears to be a constant. "I'll pick somebody outta the crowd and be like, 'Are you texting? What are you doing?'" she says of her local shows. "We're very much entertainers here in New Orleans. We'll get in your face and then make you sing and dance with us."

As Barnes takes the stage, joined by her father on bass, I sink back into a couch and sip another Sazerac. By the time she breaks into the blues classic "Can't Help Falling in Love," I've decided I'd happily spend the night sitting right here. But I can't call it a night without hitting the local music scene, so I heave myself to my feet and hail a cab to Frenchmen Street.

Tank and the Bangas play at Music Box VillageTank and the Bangas play at Music Box Village

I have no idea which club I'm going to, but that's OK. There is so much music packed into a two-block stretch that it feels like a festival. The street is jammed with people ping-ponging from club to club; discovering what's happening inside each of them is half the fun. Due in part to a steady stream of Louisiana-brewed Abita beer, the sounds blend together: reggae into bluegrass into Dixieland. After a set by the energetic Jumbo Shrimp Jazz Band at The Spotted Cat Music Club, I take a breather at an outdoor night market tucked into an alley, where I pick up a pair of coyote paw–bone earrings for Mom (in case the black flag isn't a hit).

Before bed, I stop for a game of pool at R Bar, a local dive around the corner that offers both a shot-and-a-beer and a shot-and-a-haircut special. After a while, I realize that I'm as likely to get a buzzcut as I am a beer, so I head back to the hotel, passing through streets that, disconcertingly, have started to twitter.

Day 3 image graphic

In which Sam ponders the patients of a saint, dances in the street, and learns his future

As day breaks over the Mississippi, I'm feeling a bit like the guy in "The House of the Rising Sun," the cautionary song about the debilitating effects of New Orleans nightlife popularized by the Animals in 1964: "Oh mother tell your children/Not to do what I have done!"

A blurry half-hour later, I'm in a cab heading downriver to Press Street Station, a warehouselike eatery operated by the NOCCA Institute, a tuition-free arts school that counts among its alums Wynton Marsalis and Harry Connick Jr. The space feels appropriately youthful and arty: A drums-and-keys duo performs lounge music while neon-haired line cooks prepare comfort food. I have sourdough teetering with sausage, pimento cheese, and fried eggs, served with lyonnaise potatoes. That's better.

For a further pick-me-up, I pop into the St. Roch's Campo Santo, a cemetery in the nearby St. Roch neighborhood, to pay my respects to the patron saint of the sick. In a small neo-Gothic chapel, I find an anteroom cluttered with discarded medical items: crutches, braces, prosthetic limbs, plaster models of brains, dental plates, plus some handwritten prayers. I don't have anything to leave behind, so I give the statue of Saint Roch—a 14th-century French-Italian priest who miraculously survived a dose of the plague—a hopeful wink instead.

Tombs at St. Roch\u2019s Santo CampoTombs at St. Roch's Santo Campo

That wink is about to be put to the test. I'm watching floats, musicians, and dancers muster in a high school parking lot in the Desire neighborhood, in preparation for the Nine Times Social Aid & Pleasure Club Second Line Parade. DJs dry-run their rumbling sound systems; trombones and trumpets blast. An elderly woman dressed in her Sunday best stands nearby, peering through a fence. I ask if she's part of the club. "I just came from church to see my grandson, who's marching," she replies, adding, "My feet hurt."

The parade rolls down Higgins Boulevard, and what follows is the most fun a person can have while walking—well, dancing—down the street. Acrobatic kids leap and sway while twirling elaborate parasols. Costumed club members toss beads from the backs of floats. Men ride by on tricycles carting coolers stocked with cold beer while smoke pours from enormous grills along the "neutral ground" (the New Orleans term for a median). "This is my absolute favorite thing in all of New Orleans," a local woman says above the booming drums. She's in luck: Events like this happen somewhere in the city nearly every Sunday.

I'm still buzzing when I arrive at The Napoleon House, a bar and restaurant in a landmarked French Quarter building. I'm having lunch with Ben Jaffe, the wild-haired, tuba-playing leader of the famous Preservation Hall Jazz Band. I tell him about the parade, which gets us talking about the city's many social aid and pleasure clubs, whose lineages can be traced back to 19th-century "benevolent societies." More recently, these clubs played a vital role in the post-Katrina recovery, especially for African-American communities.

"New Orleans has its own unique ways of dealing with its complicated, painful, and beautiful past," Jaffe says. "I've heard this city described in so many ways, and so many of them are true. All I know is, we gave the world Jelly Roll Morton, Louis Armstrong, Sweet Emma Barrett, Fats Domino, Allen Toussaint, the Neville Brothers, Dr. John…"

New Orleans also gave the world the muffuletta, a sandwich comprising a seeded roll the size of a small Frisbee stacked with ham, salami, pastrami, Swiss and provolone cheese, and olive salad—antipasto in a bun, basically. I order mine with a side of red beans and rice and a fruity Pimm's Cup. The Napoleon House serves more of this low-alcohol cocktail than any other establishment in the world. I add to the lead by ordering another.

As I say goodbye to Jaffe, he invites me to swing by Preservation Hall later for a performance. Until then, I'm leaving the past behind. My next destination is the future.

Ben Jaffe, bandleader, Preservation Hall Jazz BandBen Jaffe, bandleader, Preservation Hall Jazz Band

Brought to Louisiana by West African slaves in the 18th century, voodoo has deep roots in New Orleans. So when I go for a spiritual reading, I'm not expecting to be greeted by a 30-something Pacific Northwest transplant named Geoff. But there's Geoff, standing amid the candles and chicken feet at Island of Salvation Botanica, a shop set in a former city jail. Mysterious items fill the shelves: protection fetishes, voodoo dolls, crystal balls, an apothecary of oils, powders, herbs, and tinctures with names like "Banishment." Geoff locks the door, dims the lights, and leads me to a small table. He closes his eyes, opens them again, flips a few tarot cards, and gives me a quick rundown of my destiny. I learn that I should not, under any circumstances, quit my job to become a trombonist in a second line.

Eerily, a trombone happens to be in my immediate future. It's in the hands of Freddie Lonzo, who's leading a conga line around Preservation Hall, doing a rousing rendition of "St. Louis Blues." Founded in 1961 by Ben Jaffe's parents, "The Hall" hosts performances every night. The shows tend to be lively affairs, but there's a reverential feel to the austere room, which has wooden benches but no bar (patrons can bring their own booze). When clarinetist Orange Kellin wails the last solo on Fats Waller's "Honeysuckle Rose," I'm fully transported to another time.

"There are a lot of people who feel the pain of not living here. They come to New Orleans, and they experience the magic of this city, and when they leave, there's this piece of them that's missing." —Ben Jaffe

Back in the present, I summon a taxi and head to the Garden District. The car drops me at Shaya, the modern Israeli legend-in-the-making eatery that won the 2016 James Beard Award for Best New Restaurant. Even the basics here, like the pillows of steaming pita sliding out of the blue-tiled oven in the back, are extraordinary. I get an order and use it to scoop up harissa-spiced lamb and creamy hummus. Gumbo schmumbo, I think. Crawfish schmawfish. A battery of small plates follows, many with names I don't recognize but tastes that feel familiar, even ancient. A waiter comes by to clear the table, but I ward him off as if I'm hoarding precious stones. "More bread, then?" Yes. Bring the bread.

I'm starting to resemble a steaming pillow of pita myself, so I head back to the Quarter for a nightcap at the upscale rum house Cane and Table. When I arrive, two metalheads are comparing musical notes with a bartender who's wearing a bow tie over a Hawaiian shirt and doing something with a coconut. Co-owner Nick Detrich arrives to walk me through the drinks menu, part of which includes cocktails inspired by the favorite tipples of the founding fathers. I get a Price of Pearls, based on a punch that allegedly fueled the drafting of the Bill of Rights. "It tastes like a lemon tree smells," a waitress offers. It does. It also has me feeling patriotic, so I salute the helpful staff and march off into the night.

Mid-march, I get a text from my brother. One of the bands he plays with, King James and the Special Men, is performing at Saturn Bar, not too far away on St. Claude Avenue. I should come, he says, and this time I listen. When I arrive, I wonder if he texted half the people in New Orleans. The place is packed and sweating to a version of Little Richard's "Good Golly Miss Molly." I hit the dance floor and lose myself in old sounds made new, the traditional made wild and jubilant—which is the way they do things here.

Brooklyn-based writer and photographer Sam Polcer didn't get the reaction he was hoping for when he returned home and began dancing down the street swinging a parasol.

Looking back at a landmark year with Special Olympics

By Ryan Wilks, October 19, 2020

Earlier this summer, we shone a light on our flagship partnership with Special Olympics and our commitment to the Inclusion Revolution. In that same story, we introduced you to our four Special Olympics Service Ambassadors, Daniel, Kyle, Lauren and Zinyra (Z), who, this month, celebrate one year working at Chicago O'Hare International Airport as part of the United family.

This groundbreaking, inclusive employment program took off as a part of our ongoing partnership with Special Olympics, a community relationship that employees across the company hold close to heart. The original 'UA4' (as they call themselves) have become an integral part of the United team serving customers at O'Hare Airport. Even from behind their masks, their wide smiles and effervescent spirit exude and bring life to the service culture of excellence we strive towards every day.

"The UA4 are more than just customer service ambassadors. They are shining examples of how inclusion, accessibility and equity can have monumental impacts on the culture and service of a business and community," said Customer Service Managing Director Jonna McGrath. "They have forever changed who we are as a company. While they often talk about how United and this opportunity has changed their lives, they have changed ours in more ways than we can count."

In the two years of partnership with Special Olympics, United employees have volunteered over 10,500 hours of service at events around the world and donated over $1.2 million worth of travel to the organization.

"This inclusive employment program is what community partnerships, like ours with Special Olympics, are all about: collaborating to identify areas where the needs of the community intersect with the cultural and business opportunity, then creating the infrastructure and programming to bring the two together," said Global Community Engagement Managing Director Suzi Cabo. "Through this program, our goal is to show other companies that when you put a committed effort and focus towards inclusion and breaking down barriers, you transform lives. I challenge other business around the world to follow our lead in joining the Inclusion Revolution."

Check out the video below to hear from our Special Olympics Service Ambassadors firsthand.

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Spotlighting our own during Hispanic Heritage Month

By The Hub team, October 13, 2020

We celebrate Hispanic Heritage Month from September 15 th through October 15th and take the time to recognize the important contributions of our colleagues of Hispanic descent in the United family.

This year, we hosted virtual events organized by our multicultural business resource group UNITE to celebrate Hispanic Heritage Month, covering topics ranging from immigration reform to Hispanic leadership. We're also taking a moment to highlight Latinx employees nominated by their peers for their contributions both at and outside of work.

These nominees have demonstrated leadership in their position and through their character. Take a moment to read their own words about how their background and heritage plays a role in the way they interact with customers, in how they support their colleagues and why it brings valuable perspective to their work.

Vania Wit – VP & Deputy Counsel

Photo of Vania Wit, VP & Deputy Counsel for United Airlines

"I am the Vice President and Deputy General Counsel in the legal department. I am an attorney and have worked in the legal department for over 21 years and am currently responsible for a number of different legal areas – such as litigation, international, commercial and government contracts, labor, employment and benefits, antitrust. I have the privilege of working with a tremendous team of attorneys who are directly leading and managing these areas. One of the things I like most about my job is simply getting to know the backgrounds and personal stories that everyone has about their paths to United or their passion for the industry. Being the daughter of immigrants from South America and growing up in a family who relies heavily on air travel to connect us to our close family and friends is an integral part of my story and what drew me to this industry and this company."

Kayra Martinez – International Flight Attendant, FRA

Photo of Kayra Martinez on board an aircraft

"I love that my work as a flight attendant brings me all over the world and allows me to connect with diverse people across the globe. Because of my Spanish heritage, I've been able to use my language as a way to connect with passengers, crew members and people from every nationality. In addition, my heritage gives me a very close connection to family, creating community and using inclusion as a way to bring people together. After transferring to Europe, I was able to study German, more Spanish, Italian and Arabic. Outside of work, I'm the director and founder of a nonprofit organization that empowers refugees through art. Hundreds of children and adults fleeing war-torn countries have found healing through my art workshops. These refugees are currently displaced in Greece. Their stunning paintings are then sold in art galleries and communities around the world, raising awareness and putting income directly into the hands of refugee artists."

Adriana Carmona – Program Manager, AO Regulatory Compliance

Photo of Adriana standing in front of a plane engine

"I've been incredibly lucky to have amazing leaders during my time at United who have challenged me from day one to think outside the box, step out of my comfort zone and trusted me to own and deliver on the tasks assigned. I think this sense of ownership is largely shaped by my Latino background, which values responsibility, respect and accountability and taking full charge of what's in your control to be able to deliver accordingly."

Harry Cabrera – Assistant Manager, AO Customer Service, IAH

Photo of Harry Cabrera

"My desire to help people is what drove me to start my career in Customer Service over two decades ago. Currently I provide support to our coworkers and customers at IAH , the gateway to Latin America and the Caribbean. As a Colombian native celebrating Hispanic Heritage Month, I'm proud to see the strength that my fellow Latinos forge every day at United Airlines. Family values are a cornerstone of the Latin community; I consider my coworkers to be part of my extended family. Mentor support throughout the years gave me the opportunity to grow professionally. The desire to do better and help others succeed is part of that heritage. I collaborate with our Latin American operations and create ways to improve performance. No matter what language you speak, the passion for what you do and being approachable makes the difference in any interaction."

Juciaria Meadows – Assistant Regional Manager, Cargo Sales

Photo of Juciaria Meadows in a Cargo hold

"During my 28-year career, I've worked across the system in various frontline and leadership roles in Reservations, Customer Service and Passenger Sales in Brazil. I moved to the U.S. in 2012 to work as an Account Executive for Cargo. It did not take too long for me to learn that boxes and containers have as much a voice as a passenger sitting in our aircraft. My job is to foster relationships with shippers, freight forwarders, cosignees, etc. and build strong partnerships in fair, trustworthy and caring ways where United Cargo will be their carrier of choice. That's where my background growing up in a Latino family plays an important role in my day-to-day interactions. I've done many wonderful sales trainings provided by United and my academic background , but none of them taught me more than watching my parents running their wholesale food warehouse. Developing exceptional relationships with their customers, they always treated them with trust and respect. They were successful business people with a big heart, creative, always adding a personal touch to their business relationships and I find myself doing the same. It's a lesson that is deep in my heart."

Shanell Arevalo – Customer Service Representative, DEN

Photo of Shanell Arevalo at work

"I am Belizean and Salvadoran. At a young age my family moved to California from Belize. Although I grew up in the United States , one thing my parents taught me was to never forget the culture, values and principles I was raised on. This includes showing love, compassion, and respect to all people. We learned to put our best foot forward for any situation and always put our heart and mind into everything we do. In my position as a customer service agent, it's the difference of showing the love, compassion and respect to our passengers to show that this is not just a job but rather a passion of genuinely caring for our people. Being Latina, we are raised to always take care of our family, and the way I take care of passengers is the way I would take care of my family. If there's one way I know I can make a difference with our Spanish speaking passengers, it's being able to speak the language. The glow that comes over a passenger's face when they realize there's someone who can speak Spanish is absolutely an indescribable feeling. With that glow comes comfort and joy. The small comfort they get from knowing someone can connect with them makes all the difference in their experience."

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United Cargo responds to COVID-19 challenges, prepares for what's next

By The Hub team, September 30, 2020

Even before the COVID-19 pandemic, United Cargo has supported a variety of customers within the healthcare industry for over 10 years. Three key solutions – TempControl, LifeGuard and QuickPak – protect the integrity of vital shipments such as precision medicine, pharmaceuticals, biologics, medical equipment and vaccines. By utilizing processes like temperature monitoring, thermodynamic management, and priority boarding and handling, United Cargo gives customers the peace of mind that their shipments will be protected throughout their journey.

With the global demand for tailored pharmaceutical solutions at an all-time high, we've made investments to help ensure we provide the most reliable air cargo options for cold chain shipping. In April this year, we became the first U.S. carrier to lease temperature-controlled shipping containers manufactured by DoKaSch Temperature Solutions. We continue to partner with state-of-the-art container providers to ensure we have options that meet our customers' ever-changing needs.

"Providing safe air cargo transport for essential shipments has been a top priority since the pandemic began. While the entire air cargo industry has had its challenges, I'm proud of how United Cargo has adapted and thrived despite a significant reduction in network capacity and supply," said United Cargo President Jan Krems. "We remain committed to helping our customers make it through the pandemic, as well as to doing everything we can to be prepared for the COVID-19 vaccine distribution when the time comes."

Our entire team continues to prioritize moving critical shipments as part of our commitment to supporting the global supply chain. We've assembled a COVID readiness task team to ensure we have the right people in place and are preparing our airports as we get ready for the industry-wide effort that comes next.

In cooperation with our partners all over the world, United Cargo has helped transport nearly 145 million pounds of medical supplies to aid in the fight against COVID-19, using a combination of cargo-only flights and passenger flig­hts. To date, United Cargo has operated more than 6,300 cargo-only flights and has transported more than 213 million pounds of cargo worldwide.

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