Recently on a plane trip, I was informed my connecting flight had been upgraded to “first class” status.
Oh yeah baby, I told myself, your time has come.
Except, of course, being new to this fancier lifestyle…I didn’t really know how to play off cool. At all.
I am a Southwest kind of girl. You know, the cattle call herd sort of flier.
The traveler who is thinking of how to retaliate as you shove your seat back and force my tray into my trachea. Who can handle crying babies and scared seat companions, but seriously is baffled by space intruders.
Was I excited for the short first-class flight? Heck yeah.
But then, there was the flight delay. We took off 20 minutes late. Arriving at our connecting city, there were no announcements of what terminal or gate to proceed to.
With 4 minutes left until take off.
Aaannnnddd they’re off!
I joined the throng of runners (turns out that backpack was heavier than I thought) who started running frantically toward the next concourse. Hollering gates numbers as the sprinters with good eyesight scanned the boarding screens.
Down and up and down and up. I didn’t realize Cincinnati was such a large airport. Surprise.
We finally are all running to the proper gate, when the desk worker said, “Oh, we are holding the flight for you.”
Now, as I stepped into the plane I saw that first-class seat empty. Waiting.
A stranger in a strange land
I have to admit, I was scared to sit in it
As if there was a sign over my head, announcing that I was a fraudulent first-class flier. I sat tentatively, in awe of the legroom.
That chair?
It was comfier than any seat we own in our whole house! And see that room in front of my knees? That was with the passenger in front of me reclined. Oh, I could get used to this.
I felt like such like a stranger in foreign land. And it showed. You know how they announce the drinks will be served mid-flight?
Not in first class.
The other passengers were boarding, straining to find room for their bags on the sold-out flight. Me? I was amazed at the little tray…and my neighbor already had a drink!
So now my gig was up, as the attendant leaned over and said, “Would you like a drink? Beer, wine or coffee?” It had been a LONG evening. My inexperience was about to become apparent.
“Yes, I would. Do you pay with credit cards or can I pay cash?”
“Not up here you don’t!” as he winked.
He then came around in the dimmed light with a silver tray loaded with white, small objects. With tongs ready, he leaned over.
“Would you like one?”
Um.
“What is it?” Yes, I was hoping it was a cookie.
“Ma’am, fresh hot steamed towels?” he offered again.
Oh, of course. Southwest always offers those too.
Then, while everyone else is being told there isn’t time for continued drink service as we are landing sooner than expected…first class? “Ma’am, would you like another drink?”
“Is there time?” I whisper, aware of the stare the man over my shoulder was drilling me with.
Another wink, and a conspiratorial, “Up here there is always time!”
Well then! Yes indeed. Bring it on Jeeves.
Faking classy
I’ll probably never be up there again, but if I am? At least I’ll know how to act classy.
But it’ll be an act.
I will always be a regular girl flying coach. I asked my husband if I could always fly first class from now it ( I acquired that taste VERY quickly).
Alas, he laughed and confirmed that would be highly unlikely.
Just keep your seat up. Now that I know what I’ve been missing…
I am by no means a Proper Patty. My grandmother had many bones to pick with me, even as a three year old (‘you are never too young for etiquette’). But I was raised with a certain standard that I considered ‘the norm.’ Manners and class went hand-in-hand. One did not exist without the other. However, in today’s society, expecting ‘the norm’ is like looking for water in the desert. -Rachel Jablow
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Never had the pleasure of flying first class, but something tells me I would feel lost just as you felt lost. I am really not all that classy which drives my mother nuts. She is the one that exudes class and always acts properly.
First class is a treat. Especially on a red eye.
Never had the pleasure of flying first class, but something tells me I would feel lost just as you felt lost. I am really not all that classy which drives my mother nuts. She is the one that exudes class and always acts properly.
The good thing about being a writer, is that everything can be looked at as fodder for a story. Even a little embarrassment 🙂