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Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Tales of a Minion Flying First Class

I don't travel as much as I'd like to, which means the odds of me getting bumped to First Class are like winning the $1500 jackpot on a scratchoff ticket by matching the correct fruit, only instead this jackpot is the all you can drink kind and includes a power cord at your seat! Which I personally think is way better. But that's just my opinion.

So a couple of weeks ago, I struck gold on the trip to LA.

On my first leg, I lived the good life.

There was food.

There were free drinks and a hot towel that I had no idea what to do with.

First Class Baby

Because I was in First Class. And yes I'm capitalizing it.

The downside to First Class is the realization that eventually you will have to return one day to coach. You see, coach is no big deal if that's all you know. But once you've gotten a taste of the forbidden fruit, you don't want to go back to sit with the rest of the minions.

OK fine, I know, I'm a minion too. But for 2 1/2 hours I got to parade around like someone special and it was divine.

That moment where I got my printed ticket, looked down and saw the word "First" on my ticket and thought to myself, "This isn't first CLASS, is it?" was magical.

Of course because you think it's a mistake, you're trying not to get too excited while at the same time giving your ticket the side-eye, trying not to make it obvious that you're simultaneously giddy and aghast. And you're cautiously optimistic because that's not a holy grail you want ripped from your hands because you read it wrong or someone made a mistake.

Nooooo.

So you sound extra stupid and miniony when you ask the flight attendant at the gate, "Excuse me, but does this "First" mean "First Class?" Because in your mind, it can't possibly be.

And then she says, "Yes."

And you realize you're rollin' with the elites now! You are finally being recognized for the person that you are! And it's time to board now because they just announced "First Class" passengers to board and that's YOU!

So then you're skipping down that tube toward the plane and you think you're alone and you fistpump in the air and say, "YES!!! First Class!" And you whirl around just to make sure no one saw you because you're acting like a 12 year old teenage boy and you realize you've been caught squeeing by a flight attendant behind you.

So then you have to simmer down because if you're going to be a first class passenger, you have to act like a first class passenger. I mean, have you ever watched them as you pass by them on the way to your seat back in 40 D? They look up at you with that look of pity but at the same time that look of, "eh, what's the big deal, so I'm in first class...."

So if you're to sit in First Class, you must own it like they do.

And I did. With my laptop WITH the outlet for my computer, a beer (maybe two...), a hot towel, and happiness.

Of course, that can't be the rest of the story but oh how I wish it was. We landed back on earth and I skipped off to my connecting flight thinking that First Class was following me the whole trip. I mean, I've already become accustomed to the posh life I've been living for the past 2 1/2 hours!

But then I got my ticket, looked down and there was no "First." Instead, there was a "34B." Which is not a proper seat number, it is a bra size.

So then I think very loudly on the inside, "There must be some mistake! Do you know who I AM?!"

But who am I kidding, I am no one I'm just normal again and it knocks me down a couple of pegs.

So then I get onto the plane where I walk through the forbidden forest that has become First Class and I feel like Elaine from Seinfeld, screaming inside all the way back to my seat, "Don't make me go back there!"

I'm getting those pity looks from the people who are sitting where I once was that say, "Sorry, you're not one of us, keep moving."

And then I saw them.

The kids in first class.

Kids!?

What kind of crap is that?!

Even if my parents flew First Class, which they didn't, they sure as hell wouldn't have paid for ME to ride First Class, I'd be in the back with the Nanny for sure. Besides, having kids in First Class is a dangerous precedent to set, I mean, could you imagine being introduced to that at such a young age? They have to appreciate the journey from coach to first class! Plus they can't even appreciate all the perks (like the power outlet!) It's so unfair!

So then you settle into your tiny middle seat where you have no armrests, they've been stolen already by the people on both sides of you, and you're sitting there with T-Rex arms and you want to work on your computer but of course it is dead and you need a power outlet but of course those are up with the special people so you just stare into the back of the headrest in front of you.

They don't even  have the decency to get a solid curtain to separate you from what's going on up there in Posh Class, so you're stuck watching longingly through the flimsy sheer curtain as the flight attendant pours wine into the passengers (real glass) glasses. Where you should be.

I order a beer to numb the pain.

"That'll be 8 bucks please."

Yeah. I know. Gimme my plastic cup and keep the change.

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