One New York Life

As most of you know, I shamelessly lifted the idea of a travel diary off Bootleg whose travails at airports always made me feel better in that “at least I’m not the only person this stuff happens to” kind of way. Some long-time friends and readers know I hate flying. I start having small-scale panic attacks 48-hours before the flight, I can think about nothing else, I meticulously call most of my family to unofficially “say goodbye”, I wear my old St. Christopher medal, and am very careful that my iPod contains the entire Pure Moods library. All of this irrational panic is then then exacerbated by the fact flying is one of life’s most miserable experiences (#FirstWorldProblems). First wait in line to check in with people who don’t have stuff ready. Then wait in line with people who are somehow still caught off guard by having to remove their shoes (we get it, it’s stupid, just f*cking do it) and their laptops out of their bags. Then, if fortunate enough to not be randomly selected for some kind of invasive pat-down, wait in a pen with 4500 other miserable people (every person under 12 counts as ten miserable people) to then wait in line to cram in to a seat specifically designed to pen as many people in to the smallest space possible. On an international flight, this is NINE people per row. Two on each side and FIVE across the center because, heaven forbid the center seat in the five-row come out so the person in that seat doesn’t have to create a major ordeal to use the bathroom. Between my irrational and inexplicable fear and the completely miserable experience of it, I often used the first part of these diaries to vent my frustration at the whole process.

Until this time. Y’see, due to circumstances, I ended up buying round-trip business class. I have never flown anything other than coach. The round trip business class ticket from JFK to Heathrow was just about exactly double the coach ticket. I really had no idea what to expect on the trip since my knowledge of American Airlines’ business class was walking through the section on my way to Coachland.

Using the new diary rules I invented just now, entries that are bolded were originally posted to the Twitter feed via my Blackberry.

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8:00 pm: Take inventory of my stuff for roughly the 270th time. I have never flown alone before and am totally convinced I’m going to forget something. I comfort my cat for roughly the 500th time, because I feel horrifically guilty about leaving an animal who won’t even know I’m gone.

8:15 pm: PLR is always insistent about getting to the airport 3 hours early. I am always insistent that this is insanity for an 11:30 PM flight. I bask in the freedom of not having to get a cab at 7:45 for an 11:30 flight.

8:40 pm: In a stroke of “this might not be so bad” I find a cab in under two minutes at prime going out time. I’m pumped.

9:02 pm: Arrive JFK. That’s right… 22 minutes to JFK… on a summer Saturday. I’m floored.

9:03 pm: Enter JFK at the American Airlines terminal. I see a line of about 25 at the check-in counter with one person at the desk. This line is not for me. My line is around the corner in a walled off area. And by “line” I mean “well-staffed room with four employees at the counter and nobody waiting.” Four people at the counter. It’s 9 pm. Total time spent checking in: two minutes.

9:06 pm: Wander aimlessly around JFK trying to find the security line I can never find. Finally find it. There is a line waiting to have their boarding passes checked before getting to security. This line is not for me. With a look at my boarding pass, the TSA agent waves me in to the “employees” line, where I go to a 2nd agent who gives my papers a cursory look before sending me to the scanners. Total time spent in pre-screen line: nil. In fairness, I’ve heard this is a JFK only feature.

9:07 pm: I choose my security line based on my normal method of “shortest line + people with their shoes already off”. I get my stuff on the belt and the screener simply walks away. No explanation, no “back in a second”… just walks away. After 30 seconds, I hop to the line on the other side. Other people stay in line. As I pass through security, the people on the other side continue to wait. He’s still not back. Ladies and gentlemen: the future of healthcare in America.

9:15 pm: As part of the business class ticket, I gain access to the business class lounge. The business class lounge is upstairs at JFK, well away from the gate pens most people stay in. I hand my ticket to a lady who may or may not be an extra for the Jersey Shore. After checking my ticket to confirm I belong in the special club, she presents me with two complimentary drink tickets.

9:20 pm: My first complimentary drink is a Makers Mark Manhattan. Being as I’ve been in a state of constant panic for 48 hours, it gets destroyed.

9:26 pm: Manhattan number two.

9:53 pm: French dude: Parle Francais? Me: Petit peu, pourquoi? FD: C’est votre jour chanceux. Make that 5 drink vouchers. Widro and I have this theory that once you get in to the rich dude’s club, it’s a special place where you all kinda look out for each other and just work at keeping your money and screwing the poor and middle class people. This would be an example of that. There was no reason for Mr Frenchman to give me his three leftover drink vouchers, but he just did because, well, I fooled him by being inside the velvet rope.

10:00 pm: I make the executive decision to switch over to Sam Summers because, well, five Manhattans would have been the end of me.

11:07 pm: In the midst of my final Sam Summer, I was screwing with my phone when they made the announcement my flight was boarding. I packed up my stuff, walked out of the lounge, and headed to my gate. There were about 30 people waiting in line. That line was not for me. There was no one in my line. Time spent in boarding line: nil.

11:18 pm: 10 minutes after sitting down, just handed a free champagne. I bet in coach there’s a screaming child. Hahahahahahahahahahah. In reality, I took two plastic flutes of champagne, crushed them, took a free newspaper, this sack of goodies, and ordered a steak for dinner with a glass of merlot. Before dinner arrived, I was given a complimentary set of Bose soundproof headphones to quiet the total lack of noise. Sadly, I had to give those back but they do, in fact, live up to their marketing. Putting them on, I couldn’t hear anything other than what I was listening to. Not even the noise of the airplane. Also, my seat turns in to a bed. There’s that much room. Also: so in business class, you sit in a lounge boozin, they announce you’re boarding, then you walk right on the plane. Then, you get to watch the poor people get on. hahahaha Suffer, poor people! #TooMuchBooze I became drunk on both power and booze simultaneously.

The rest of the flight is somewhat hazy. I do recall ordering a Dewars on the rocks which turned out to be a double (also free). I recall putting on a BreatheRight and informing the flight attendant to wake me up if I was snoring too loudly. I vaguely recall that our flight had the Under 23 World Cup Women’s team which led to a rousing “USA!” chant which I hope included more people than myself. I recall watching the first five minutes of Shutter Island before passing out hard until “express breakfast”. Also, as I was sitting in the fourth row, which was the first row of business, I got off the plane first. Time spent waiting to get off plane: nil.

10:30 am (GMT): Flight arrives an hour early. For the first time in history, I’m annoyed by a flight getting in early because I was actually comfortably sleeping and my plan of getting 6 hours of sleep is reduced to 5. I go to passport services and am certainly still drunk. I have a conversation with the British passport lady that didn’t go well because I could neither remember how long I was going to be there or the name of my hotel at first. I probably also smell like a mix of bourbon, wine, and meat. I get a harsh speech. I don’t remember any of it but I fully deserved it.

10:45 am: Walk to the luggage carousel to wait. The carousel, however, is not for me. My bags, with their orange priority tag, are already waiting for me next to the carousel. Time waiting for bags: nil.

So, to recap — for the approximate cost of “double”, the customer basically gets to skip all lines, be boozed up and happy, and not wait for anything. I’m pretty sure there’s something to be said here about legacy airlines and the American public’s demand that flights be cheap. PLR warned me that the first business class flight would ruin me forever and, I have to say, she’s right. I can’t imagine flying a legacy airline in coach again… especially when it’s such a miserable experience. And this is before even getting in to Heathrow’s business class lounge. Heathrow’s lounge featured all of the above but with free everything. A spread of sandwiches, snacks, chips, soda, and desserts on top of a selection of top shelf alcohol, wine, and refrigerator of beer in a do-it-yourself bar. The flight back to the US on Saturday was extremely crowded. When we eventually got to the gate from the lounge, there was a line of over 200 people waiting to check in. In London, there’s another quick screening process — which randomly involves full pat-downs, interviews, and bag searches — before getting in to the gate. We walked to the front of that line, too.

Somehow, I have a bad feeling that Oktoberfest 2 just got about $1000 more expensive.