The Only Way to Fly

If you’ve never flown in first-class, I’ve got three words of advice for you: Don’t do it! The experience will ruin you, making it impossible to fly coach again.

Recently, I took the family to California for some much needed rest and relaxation. Due to the length of the flight and my stockpile of frequent-flyer miles, I decided to go all-out and bump our coach tickets up to first class.

The benefits began moments after entering the terminal. We stepped to the end of a lengthy line at the security checkpoint, where a security official scanned our tickets.

“Oh, you’re first-class passengers,” he noted. “Follow me.”

We did as we were told, and he led us to a separate checkpoint for those traveling in first class. Friendly faces greeted us and helping hands loaded our bags onto the x-ray conveyor. Best of all – no waiting! When they handed me back my shoes, I swear they even looked as if they had been polished.

At our departure gate, we ran into the family of a former classmate of our older son (they happened to be taking the same flight to California). As we stood talking to the parents, a female voice announced, “We are now pre-boarding all passengers sitting in first class and first class only. Those of you in the coach herd, please wait in the pen to the left of the gate.”

As we grabbed our carryons and began moving toward the gate, the other couple eyed us suspiciously.

“We used our frequent-flyer miles to move up to first class,” explained my embarrassed wife.

“I see,” said the other wife.

“Yeah, we’ve never done this before,” I added.

“Oo la la,” replied the other husband, the sarcasm evident in his voice.

Once we entered the cabin, a bevy of stewardesses immediately surrounded us, taking our coats to the first-class coat closet, storing our carryons in the overhead compartment, helping us get comfortable in the extra-wide seats.

As my boys began playing with every button and doodad in sight, a cheerful stewardess named Nancy appeared.

“I will be taking care of you during today’s flight,” she said. “Would you care for a drink?”

Across the aisle, I heard a distinguished gentleman order a glass of Chardonnay.

“Chardonnay, please,” I replied, figuring I could afford to have at least one adult beverage.

As Nancy filled my glass, I reached into my pocket for some cash.

“The beverages are complimentary in first class, sir,” she said.

“Oh, right -- I knew that.”

By the time we were an hour into our flight, I was finishing my fourth glass of “complimentary” wine and feeling no pain.

That’s when Nancy appeared to take our dinner orders.

“Tonight you have a choice of lemongrass-steamed Icelandic salmon reposed on a bed of garlic mashed potatoes and surrounded by sauteed green beans, or beef tenderloin with duxelles of Portobelo mushroom and potato scallops wrapped in filo dough and baked en terrine.”

After wiping the drool off my chin, I composed myself long enough to order the salmon.

Then I had to ask: “Just out of curiosity, what are the meal choices in coach?”

“I believe they have a choice of either Italian or turkey sub.”

“Oo la la,” I said, and the two of us shared a conspiratorial smile.

Once I had topped the meal off with a healthy slice of raspberry cheesecake, I loosened my belt and took a long sip from my little glass of Baileys.

My equally-satiated wife turned toward me, a frown creeping across her face.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“I was just thinking: I’m never gonna be able to fly coach again.”

“I know. But let’s not worry about tomorrow. Let’s live for today.”

With that, I took a bite from one of the chocolate-dipped strawberries Nancy had just deposited on each of our trays and closed my eyes.

Unfortunately, the five-hour flight proved way too short, and soon we were crowded around the luggage carrousel with the peons from coach.

Our friends from home spotted us and walked over.

“So, how were the accommodations in first class?” snorted the husband.

“Oo la la,” I replied.

And I meant every word.

Copyright 2003 Marc L. Prey
All rights reserved.