My friend, "Keith- two tickets - Poole" flies a lot for work and appears to have a horse shoe up his ass. He got upgraded to first class not once but twice recently and sent me a guest post this morning to gloat.
He is now on my sh!t list and shall remain there until I am able to punch him in person.** I flew to Italy in a seat so squished that I could not unbend my legs for 9 bonkatrillion hours and tried but failed to sleep sitting up with my head slammed against the window. My seat mate slept sitting up with her head flopped on her tray. Apparently this is what the first class bastards were enjoying:
This week I was upgraded not once, but twice, much to Colie's chagrin. As we all now know, airlines seem to have taken offense to something she must have done in a prior life. So, with apologies for rubbing it in, I say yes to boarding first, in a special line no less. I say yes to actual food on a plane. Remember how we all used to complain about airline food? Nowadays in coach we would fight for scraps given the opportunity.
I say yes to real glasses and real plates and real cutlery. Heck, they even hung up my jacket on a real hanger. I say yes to that scorching hot little towel, which burns the fingertips at first but then feels oh so nice. I say yes to that hemmed cloth napkin with the button hole so I can proudly wear a big white diamond with blue border on my chest, and keep my shirt clean. A bib for adults, albeit one that requires you to dress up a bit. Does anyone know where I can buy some of those cloth napkins with the button hole? They would be great for me at home, too. And don't forget the kicker of the meal, that cute paper sleeve that holds a marvel of modern technology - a little packet with pepper in the top part and salt in the bottom part.* How do they do that?
Up here you get two (count 'em, TWO) seat back pockets in front of you. I emptied my pants pockets just to try and fill them up, but to no avail. There's even two in-flight magazines! The second one (in addition to the regular one for the plebes) is called Celebrated Living and bills itself as a "luxury magazine" - I did not know there was such a thing. Based on a quick perusal of this magazine, apparently I need a lot more money to begin celebrating properly.
To ease the sting, I say yes to embracing my inner alcoholic. Sure, it's a morning flight but hey, they keep bringing around those two ginormous bottles of wine! Who am I to resist?
~Keith - bracing himself for the wrath of Colie - Poole~
*A freaking envelope for the salt and pepper people! In economy you'd have to lick the sweaty fat dude next to you to get some damn salt!
**Feel free to join me when I punch Mr. Poole. In fact, I may just randomly punch whoever I pass in first class as I saunter past them to the crap class to hoard the stale pretzels.