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#235 – London Journal #2 – Long Night’s Journey into Day, Part II
Time: Depends on who you ask
Location: 1st class cabin, Northwest flight #44, on the ground in Minneapolis, destination London.
I am way too unsophisticated for luxury travel. I booked business class for this flight – Uncle Tilty gave his permission – but there’s no section more posh than this, so let’s call this First Class.
I had to dash through the Minneapolis airport to make the connection just before the doors closed. Sweating, panting, loaded with luggage, books, water bottles, and notepads, I stumbled FORWARD from the plane’s entrance to Seat 3-G.
The seats are like these giant pods, which doesn’t automatically make them more comfortable than other airline seats – though they are – but they LOOK so comfortable that even if they were upholstered in concrete your break would be tricked into thinking, “I’m relaxing in a pod. How comfortable.”
My seatmate in 3-E, Camille, is a bronze-skinned beauty. I imagine that she has been installed here to enhance my feeling of comfort and well being. As I settle in, I glance toward her and she smiles. As I smile back, she reflexively pulls up the plunging neckline of her pink sweater.
At least some fantasies are rooted in reality.
I shouldn’t be such a bumpkin. In my days as a high-rolling lawyer, I was an expert at scoring cheap or free upgrades to first class. But it’s a far cry flying first class on United from Chicago to San Francisco than in this international compartment I now find myself. (I do, however, still have fond and very specific memories of the first time I scammed my way into first class. While the flight attendant was mixing us a Caesar Salad from a giant stainless steel bowl in the aisle, I overheard an announcement that they left half the coach meals behind in Chicago, “so please don’t ask for dinner unless you’re really hungry.” We had a laugh over that over our sundaes an hour later.)
But international air travel is a whole different ballgame. Pods. Camille. Room in the seat in front of me for THREE storage compartments. I would trade legroom for storage, given the amount of junk I typically bring with me to combat airborne ADD.
Here, there’s space for my water bottle, Doritos, reading-glasses case, 3 notebooks, LONDON – THE WICKED CITY paperback, the dinner menu – yes, dinner menu! – headphones, gilt bag from Northwest, and pillow and blanket (both sealed for hygiene).
That’s a far cry from a recent flight in coach where the seat-back pocket was this ancient hard plastic envelope, already filled to capacity by the yellowing air-sick bag. That bag, though gratefully unfilled by previous occupants was nonetheless bearing a distinct message. Some passenger had taken a Sharpie and drawn a crude and rather explicit drawing of a woman with her legs apart, the sort of thing I couldn’t even hand to a flight attendant for disposal.
My seat has a 17-button control for regulating movement of the seat. It reclines like a bed. It has lumbar support. It can massage my lower back. And 14 other things. I stare at it and ineffectively stab the buttons until Camille is kind enough to provide me a tutorial.
Would you like to know what Camille and I will be enjoying for dinner? To start with, there is smoked salmon and spinach spreads, served with toasted crostini. I don’t even know what toasted crostini is, but I’m excited about it. After a salad of mixed greens with feta cheese and kalamata olives (the Cadillac of olives), we both chose the entry of beef tenderloin with apple bacon crust – is that a crust? An apple? A bacon? – and lemon carrots and chedder-stuffed baby red potatoes. I think you’ll have to agree that the sheer number of adjectives before each food item assures that this will be the best meal I have ever eaten in flight.
I won’t get into the selection of breads, the grilled chicken with figs and sundried tomatoes offered a la carte, the two red wins, two white wins, and two champagnes we can choose from throughout the flight (I don’t drink but I’m thinking of starting), or the light breakfast.
But I will tell you this. Those Doritos I brought on board are staying inside the package. Thank goodness there is so much personal storage space.
