I
must be about just over an hour into my 11 hour flight to Hong Kong
and already enough has happened to make me think that by the time we
cross over the Middle East... OK, poor choice of region, by the time
we cross over... Ok, I just can't avoid it. Now you've got me on a
tangent I didn't mean to go over. By the time we're five hours in?
There, thats it. It wouldn't surprise me if the Captain and his First
Officers have performed a burlesque routine through the cabin and
Justin Timberlake has decided to juggle a packet of mixed nuts, a
life jacket and a bowling ball.
Just
for the record, Justin Timberlake is not on this flight.
And
also, I'm yet to see a bowling ball, but I have seen some mixed nuts
and a life jacket.
We
were delayed. That's normal really. I've flown enough this year (I'll
backtrack and get to all that one day) to know that being delayed is
an OK thing to happen. Things go wrong. Bits fall off. As long as
they stick them back on again before we fly, I don't particularly
mind a bit of a delay. Plus, they usually always manage to make the time up so no doubt we'll land
at exactly the time we're supposed to land and nobody will be any the
wiser. This does sometimes make me wonder why, if they are able to
put their foot down, they don't do this every time but I do not know
of such things and do not claim to. If there's one thing that winds
me up (and there's a few, obviously) it's people who think they know
better than everyone else and love to shout their opinion about the
place. Actually, that does sound a bit like me but at least nobody
seems to notice when I'm doing it. Or I'm that obnoxious that
I don't notice. Anyway...
Funny
shit just seems to find me.
Like
the homeless man that me and my friend, Tim, managed to get a picture
with (including his emu) after we watched the cricket for free. And
the ball, whilst the players were having tea (tea?!) that almost
twatted me in the stomach and cracked a good chunk of my ribs but
missed me by a few millimetres. OK, centimetres. OK, it was the seat
next to me, but if we'd just taken our seats that tiny bit sooner I'd
be a goner. Or at least a few ribs down.
That
was in about 20 minutes on a very nondescript Saturday. I dread to
think what else is about to happen on this flight.
So,
apart from the awkward moment when one of the pilots comes over to my
seat to say hello (the reason why is very boring and I won't be
divulging, but I assure you that I haven't slept with a pilot) it all
started off very normal...
There
I was. In seat 34B. A respectable seat number (and bra size, fnar
fnar) when one of the cabin crew came over and delighted me with the
news that I had been upgraded. Now you can imagine my glee at this. I
immediately posted a picture to Facebook, I was that pleased.
This also makes me nervous because knowing my friends they'll have
clocked on to the fact that I'm offline for the next 12 hours, but I
hope they're still that little bit nice that they won't do anything
too bad.
Today
is my 23rd flight of the year and I've been on 'em all...
The lovely British Airways, Virgin Atlantic, Monarch, more EasyJets
that I wish to mention, Vuelling (who I didn't know existed but who
are wholly responsible for my fear of propeller planes), FlyBe, Ryanair... I
have to say that my favourite airline is BA because the staff are so
lovely (and I'm probably being biased and I still promise you, I
haven't slept with a pilot). Virgin Atlantic staff are also lovely
and the others too by the way, but after the turbulence on the way to
Vegas back in January (where I definitely started eyeing up 'Spotify
man' next to me for his thighs just in case we crashed over
Greenland) I just can't look a Virgin flight in the eye again. Until
work book me on another one, of course.
ANYWAY,
I was really pleased about the upgrade.
(A rather arrogant menu title...)
After
months of being kicked in the back, elbowed in the face, having a
video camera (that can only be described as something the 80s gave
back) land on my head, screaming children, screaming adults (that's
you, Mr Spotify), screaming cabin crew (bloody turbulence) I think I
deserve this upgrade. I've earned this upgrade. Ok, I've pretty much
blagged this upgrade, but I'm going to enjoy it.
Except
for one thing... I hate being served by anyone.
I'm
too polite. Something kicks in, which is either me as a shy-ish 9
year old girl who had her front teeth knocked out the day before the
local village carnival princess competition and came runner up to
bloody Stephanie Samson (damn you, Stephanie Samson*) or it's my
Britishness, which means that I'm unable to accept any form of help
from anyone without thanking them to the point of being shoved into a
padded cell and muttering in a corner “thank you so much, thank you
so much” over and over.
*names
may have been changed to avoid a law suit – I've no idea if
“Stephanie Samson” went on to become Miss World.
For
instance, I had to give up my food (not for good) because they
weren't expecting me to be in First Class, but I figure there's
enough nutrition in the Bloody Marys I've been necking that it'll be
just fine. Juuuuuust. Fiiiiiiiiiiine. I am pretty hungry though. I
have a member of my team travelling with me this time (ooooh, another
human) and he's in Economy class. He also has been grazing all bloody
day because I've done a very good job of warning him about the
Chinese cuisine so I've a good mind to go back there and demand his
dinner off him. I'm kidding, I promise. But did I say to the lovely
First Class attendant, “actually, I am rather hungry so if you are
able to bring me a little bit of food on this flight that lasts half
a day, in which I would usually eat around 2-3 meals, that'd be
great”... Did I? No. I just smiled and said “of course, that's
fine”. And what will be will be. Perhaps I'll end up joining Justin
Timberlake and I don't even know how to be a burlesque dancer. Bit
weird for me. These Bloody Marys have quite the kick to them.
So,
what is behind the curtain? Well. For starters, the seats with the
pull out foot thing that magically makes a bed are AWESOME.
Seriously. A very simple idea, but a brilliant one. The pillows are
more comfortable. You get little cubby holes in which to keep stuff.
I got a wash bag with all sorts of nice smelly things in (including
the socks – Not for long, I hear you) and an eye-mask which I can't
see the point of whatsoever because the only time I've even attempted
to wear one I ended up spending 4 hours fearful of my eyelash
extensions rather than sleeping. The cabin crew are just as nice, but
you get pretty much anything you ask for. Rum, gin, champagne,
champagne cocktails, cocktails... You'll notice I'm unable to comment
on the food, but the others have had a four course masterpiece around
me. The films are the same, but the headphones are much better. The
seat turns into a bed and as someone who is constantly tired and on
the brink of a power doze, that's all I'm interested in really.
The
blankets are also supposed to be nicer, but I had to give my one
away... Which leads to my “G&T Man” story.
I
like G&T, don't get me wrong. Some might say it was my no. 1
choice of tipple. But my memory of getting plastered on Tanqueray
with my friend from California, in San Jose last year and ending up
doing “Jello” shots in a bar and then heading for the hot tub to
eat pretty much all of the mini-bar (mostly Pringles and Rice Krispie
cakes laced with naughty stuff that another friend from San Diego had
given me without us realising at the time) has now been trumped by Mr
G&T.
For
starters. Apparently, before I got into First Class he'd already been
moved four times. I'm not sure of the detail, but I know this because
when the in-flight screens failed to work meaning that the cabin crew
had to revert to the old-school way of doing the safety announcement,
he took great pleasure in telling all of our cabin how “this
airline has gone downhill”. I personally don't think it has.
The
next thing to happen was me realising that I couldn't get out of my
little cubby hole seated area without stepping over his foot rest
thing (as the seats face each other until you put the impersonal
screen thing up), which I attempted to do but ended up kicking his
big toe meaning that he then stood up when I was on my way back and I
immediately slipped into British-mode and apologised profusely for
about 20 minutes.
Then,
they had to reset the entire flight's screens because the majority of
them still weren't working. Given that there hasn't been a riot yet,
I presume that these have now been fixed down back.
Mr
G&T was pretty angry by this time. Not only have I kicked him in
the big toe, but he's also had to move four times, and the cabin crew
have had to give a manual demonstration of his safety procedure, and
his screen has stopped working, and then...
He
knocks his G&T over himself. Badly. It goes everywhere and his
blanket becomes part of the clean up operation.
I'm
not quite sure what to do in such a situation. Fortunately, the
wizards who designed the First Class cabin also had the foresight to
put little privacy screens up so I raised my screen and hid for a
little bit. Mr G&T obviously blamed the “has-been airline”
for this and does the other typically British thing of complaining
and being unreasonable whilst saying the words, “I hate complaining
and being unreasonable.”
Now.
Because I'm technically an imposter, the cabin crew member has a
brain wave and our eyes meet at almost the same time. Mine are
saying, “oh noooo, I've just worked out how to move the seat
backwards and forwards” and hers are saying, “up you get,
sister.” So, she nods, I nod. I give up my seat.
Fortunately,
the rest of the cabin is pretty empty (who knew?) so she tells me I can have my
pick of the crop. Obviously this is far too awkward for me, so I just
take the nearest one to me, which means I'm now on an aisle as
opposed to a window and every time the guy behind the screen next to
me needs serving, miss cabin lady has to lean across me to give him
his food (which I promptly drool over). Oh how quickly my mindset has
changed. Two hours ago I was crammed into in 34B, ignoring the
sleeping Chinese man to my left and hoping the crazy Australian on my
right wasn't out to kill me for taking the middle seat when he was so
desperate for a no-show and extra room (you're welcome, mate). And
now, here I am. In First Class questioning the interior design
decisions.
Other
stuff so far?
- It's really rather weird taking off facing backwards, although I'm now facing forwards in my new seat so I like that this'll become some sort of sweeping survey for me.
- It's also really weird being so close to the front for take off as you feel loads more than you notice when at the back.
- Money cannot buy manners. Frequently I've thought to myself, “it's nice to be important, but it's important to be nice.”
- You're trusted with real knives, forks, plates and glass. Who ever heard of a terrorist taking out a payday loan, eh?
- Typing the word “terrorist” on a flight, no matter how irrelevant to anything, still gives you the heeby jeebies.
- My new neighbour is a Professor and very regularly gets told “it's OK – we'll have a glass of port for you as soon as possible.”
So,
that's about it for now. I don't know what else is going to happen, I
never do, but I'll try and write some of it down and see if it
becomes amusing for you.
With
love.
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