Most of the air travel I've ever done in my life has been spent sitting in a coach seat. You know, in the peon section. Not First Class. Not Business Class. Not even Economy Plus, whatever that means. I'm basically the passenger that barely got a ticket onto the Titanic - stuck in the bowels of the ship while the other passengers feast on duck and caviar.
So when I discovered that we travel Business Class across the Atlantic, I was super excited. The plush seat reclined a good 120 degrees. The leg rest came up. I even had lumbar support. The flight attendants served me vegetable lasagna and complimentary reisling and even ice cream for dessert. I had my own video monitor and a real blanket. "This is the way to travel," I thought. I knew then that I could never go back.
Until the flight back. The gods smiled upon me at Charles de Gaulle and I got upgraded to First Class. First Class across the Atlantic! No one has this kind of luck! The seat fully reclined into a bed - I got the best 3 hours of sleep on an airplane ever. Real pillows, a real quilt. A three course meal with salad, chilled carrot soup and tortellini. A choice of three desserts. My own little pod, where it was just me, my recliner and my cubby. An ameneties kit with toothbrush, mouthwash, toothpaste, lip balm, socks and face gel. When I got my "wake up" deli tray, I knew it was over. I was ruined forever.
I have another trip to the UK coming up in about three weeks. I'm slated for Business Class again. I don't know if I can do it. I don't know if I can go back to Business Class. Now that I've tasted the duck and caviar, I just can't go back to the bowels of the ship. Maybe the Fergie gods will smile upon me again and grant me another First Class voyage.
No comments:
Post a Comment