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Flying Business Class-Is it worth it? |
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As he writes, a gentleman, sitting relaxed in a comfortable position, is listening to Chopin’s Concerto No. 1 through Bose noise canceling head phones, and sipping a cabernet, hardly aware that he is at 37000 feet somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean in a 767. The gentleman is me, and I am on my way to London. A flight attendant taps me on the shoulder. I lift the headset to listen to her. “Can’t sleep?” she asks through a warm smile. “Can I get you anything?” “No thank you. I’m fine,” I respond. “I have never been more comfortable.” Once upon a time flying was really fun. The first question people would ask when they greeted you just as you walked off the plane (when greeters could meet you at the plane) was “How was the food?” With a choice between steak and lobster and five star service from a gorgeous, friendly flight attendant, the answer was always a description of more than just food. Dining on an airplane rivaled that in five star restaurants. Once on a trip to Rome, I bumped up to first class (in the now defunct Trans World Airlines) and had the best meal of the entire trip right on the plane. It was an experience you didn’t get in a restaurant. We walked on and off comfortable planes, were greeted by friends at the gate, strolled into airports, sometimes 10 minutes before the flight was due to take off and ran from the car to the plane in five minutes with time to spare. How times have changed! Even before the drudgery of getting past security since September 11, almost everything began to go down hill. It began even when a few guys high jacked airplanes before suicide bombers were even considered. Security was set up to prevent guns on board. The idea of someone deliberately crashing a plane was still years to come when airplanes began turning into buses with cost cutting measures pushing everything into the lowest possible comfort zone that could be tolerated by the passenger. So many people were willing to go for the lowest price regardless of the product that every airline company had to give up luxury. It was in these times that a huge chasm developed between first class and second class. Since some people have no limits on how much they value luxury, first class was profitable for airlines, but eventually there was that gray zone where a smart airline realized that some people will pay a lot just to get out of the bus and back into an enjoyable flight the way it used to be. So business class gave back what people used to get anyway, and the term second class was replaced by the euphemism “coach class”. And so begins my story. The seven hour flight I am on costs about a grand in coach class, three to four grand in business class, and five to ten grand in first class. I got the business class ticket by trading in $400 worth of frequent flyer miles and kicking in another $400, so it costs me a little over $100 per hour more to sit here instead of back there. This is tax paid money so that is equivalent to a few hundred thousand per year salary. The guy who paid 3K for the seat would be earning the equivalent of over a million a year just by sitting back there instead of up here. I don’t even want to calculate what the slob sitting up in first class is doing. Jesus! Is this really worth it? How many of the guys sitting around me would turn down a job making that kind of salary? Obviously, most of these guys are doing this because they can get someone else to pay for it. For dinner I select from a menu, get a table cloth and real silverware and glass glasses, choose between various wines, have an ice cream sunday for desert, and top that off with a Bailey's in coffee. After dinner, I'm having too much fun to sleep in this chair that converts into a bed, so I sit back and listen to Mozart while continuing to type my story. Another smiling flight attendant leans over and I remove the headset. “You are working through the whole flight.” She says with a smile. “Can I get you anything, coffee or tea?” “Tea would be nice.” “Sugar and cream?” “Just milk.” Flash backward a few weeks. I am on the train to London Heathrow for a flight to Los Angeles. From home I take a combination of train and tube that drops me right inside the airport. Oh how I wish the good old USA could catch up in transportation methodology with this part of the trip. When I made the reservation, I believed, as a Platinum Frequent Flyer, I was purchasing an upgraded ticket at the cost listed above. Only upon arriving at the airport did I learn that what I was actually doing was getting on a waiting list for upgrades, a waiting list that had a lot of guys ahead of me. Who could these people be? At one time there were just Frequent Flyers, then came Gold Flyers, then Platinum, then Platinum Elite, and now Executive Platinum. Some people must live on the god damned plane. When I started thinking about the costs along the lines of the above argument, I was almost relieved to learn that I had not made the cut and would be in a normal coach class seat and had just saved about $800 (1600 considering taxes). Nevertheless, with some dread I squeezed into an aisle seat, 22b next to a fat young lady with more baggage packed under her seat than there is room for. Twenty percent of her was hanging over into my seat. Every seat on the plane is filled, maybe 350 people. American Airlines once again has moved the seats even closer together. The TV monitors are hardly visible from this position, and it wouldn’t matter much since the low quality ear buds combined with the aircraft noise makes the sound pretty much inaudible for me. For this reason I never even bother with the movies. I am unable to straighten my legs under the seat in front of me. That is not so bad for an hour or so. After that my knees begin to ache and I stretch one leg into the aisle. If Pauline was sitting next to me, I could stretch my legs over onto her side, but today, that would get me arrested and kicked off the plane. I survive the pain by getting up and walking around every thirty minutes or so. The aisles are barely wide enough to walk in and meeting someone presents a challenge. I stumble over feet in the aisles, returning to my seat with refreshed knees. I manage to kill and hour or two drawing in my sketchbook, and eventually break out my laptop to see if I can do anything useful. I have a special, small laptop for flying, since there is not room to open up a large laptop. The guy in front of me has leaned back and I can see the top of his head,18 inches from my face. I discover that I have to tilt even this small laptop to fit it in the small space. After struggling with the keyboard for a while I give up and take a nap. I am awakened by someone stumbling over my foot in the aisle. That was a stroke of luck for me since shortly after that the food cart rolls over the exact spot where my foot had been.
Attempting to work in American Air Lines 777 tourist class seating. I measured a distance of one foot between my nose and the head of the guy in front of me. You have to wear reading glasses to watch the TV. Dinner is arriving. We have a choice between chicken and beef. I take the beef. I doubt if one could tell the difference. The meal consists of a small paper dish with a few pieces of overcooked broccoli, and a three chunks of beef packed in rice and soaked with gravy. With this comes a roll packed in a plastic bag, a cookie, some cheese spread. It is not exactly awful, just sorta awful. I would probably never eat anything like this anywhere else. No one asks how the food was on the plane any more. Everyone knows it is pretty much inedible. The aisle has been full of carts so long that I have gone way past my bladder’s use-by date. So I head off to the nearest toilet and get in line. What are they doing so long in there? By the time I am up to first place the seat belt sign comes on and the plane is bouncing around. Since I am about to piss my pants, I persist as a flight attendant warns me to take my seat, so she says “Okay, but be careful”. Finally, in the toilet I hang on to whatever is handy, taking my best aim, like a man with St. Vitas dance. After five or six hours that seem like days, it gets dark and things quieten down. I get thirsty and decide to go for some kind of drink. All of the flight attendants are sitting around in the kitchen having a party, but one manages to make me some tea. By the time I get off the plane my knees are sore, I have a headache, and I am exhausted. Jonathan has agreed to pick me up in Los Angeles. I haven’t checked bags so I am through the customs and out fast. When I don’t see Jonathan in the waiting area, I give him a call on my cell phone. This is one of the few times I thank God for cell phones. And then I see the impact of the cell phone on airport traffic. Jonathan is caught in a huge gridlock in the airport, so I tell him just to pick me up at the curb. Now I see the problem, a new phenomenon resulting from everyone having cell phones. The curb is lined with hundreds of passengers, all with a cell phone to their ears. Cell phones have created a new way to get picked up. No one pays to park any more; they just arrive at the airport, circle, and wait for their phone call. This process has created a serious traffic problem in the airport. Once again, I observe how much the LA airport is in the dark ages concerning integration with the overall transportation system. I’m really glad to see Jonathan’s face at the airport. From here on I don’t need to make any decisions or serious work. By the time I get home, I am totally exhausted and collapse in bed for the next twelve hours. For my return trip, I am determined not to repeat the previous experience, so this time I speak with an agent about my return reservation. As I had expected I am on a waiting list for the upgrade. So I ask her, “Is there any way I can purchase an upgraded flight for my return. She searches through her computer and eventually locates a flight with connections through Chicago on a Friday afternoon that she can confirm. The only catch? It will cost me another $100 to change the reservation. I go for it. That returns me to the beginning of my story. A flight attendant stops by and asks me if she can get anything for me. Yet another way to fly I still have to get back to California, and again I had asked for an upgrade when making the reservation four months ago only to be placed on a waiting list. However, with a four month head start I was at least able to reserve an exit row seat for both Pauline and I. At the present time an exit row seat is a huge improvement over a regular seat in coach class, especially for a tall or large person. Anything short of a Platinum passenger doesn’t even qualify for an exit row seat, and some airlines charge a premium for those seats. A few airlines have set up a third class between coach and business that gives a few inches more leg room. Realizing that the exit row flying ain’t half bad, I could save 1500, and best of all fly next to Pauline, I cancelled the upgrade request. Having done it and gone through the experience, I can report that it was, in my opinion, a good choice. I had acres of leg room, sat next to the toilet so I could go anytime there was no line, got served first, and even though the food still tastes like shit, the flight was quite pleasant. I even had room to finish this story on my laptop. Now if Jonathan shows up to meet me at the airport and if they have worked up a solution to the cell phone grid lock, it will be an over all pleasant way to come back to California. Note: Jonathan did show up on time……….almost. |
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