First Class to NYC from LA (Part One)Part of: LA , NYC , Travel
*I went to NYC at the end of December (First Class- Part 2)
What to wear? I was having a good hair day (the most important thing) and decided on black cords, a black v-neck top, jacket, scarf and coat. I wore my boots, even though taking them off to go past the metal detector and walking around in socks didn’t go with my ideal First Class experience.
I didn’t get to the airport the recommended 2 ½ hours before my flight. I was not a mere peasant. It took no time to get through security. No one searched my bag. I was going to Manhattan for 8 days with carry-on luggage only. (BTW: I love my new Travelpro suitcase)
I got to my gate and was disappointed by the crowd. It was worse than usual—going to NYC there was generally a decent looking business crowd, but this was all holiday travelers. There were no attractive people to watch.
I went to Starbucks and was displeased that I had to buy an overpriced eggnog latte before I’d even left Los Angeles. It didn’t seem fair that they could charge more because they were at the airport. However, they made a great latte and didn’t overdue it with the nutmeg. Also, I technically got it for free, because I used the Starbucks Card I got for a holiday gift.
Back at the gate, I hung out reading Entertainment Weekly and occasionally glanced around to see if I could figure out who the First Class passengers were. There was an Arianna Huffington look alike wearing no make-up and talking non-stop on her phone while her daughter sat next to her—First Class. There was a woman in her late 40’s with a nose ring and her younger companion, son or assistant. I had overheard her telling one of the nosy security people that they lived in a loft in Tribeca—First Class.
I felt superior when the First Class passengers were called to board the plane before anyone else. I overheard some people with children saying how they should be able to board when the disabled people did. I internally rolled my eyes. It took me a while to get through the people lined up and milling around the boarding entrance. Why do people do that? Because they’re white trash. (My internal voice isn’t PC.) I mean we’re in the United States people and it’s assigned seating, get a fucking life.
I was disappointed that we weren’t in the spacious First Class seats with the foot rests, but the seats were plush and leather. The red-headed petite woman in front of me asked the flight attendant if he could take her coat—yes, indeed. I handed mine over as well—so much better than being squished with it in my seat. I went back to my seat to deal with my suitcase. I struggled to push it above me. Where’s a helpful man when you need one? I sat in my seat and tried to get situated while figuring out what I would drink first: mimosa or straight champagne? The older woman sitting next to me seemed out to lunch and very Connecticut. Where was the hot wealthy man that was supposed to sit next to me? At least she wasn’t going to bother me. I could read and drink in peace.
The coach passengers started boarding. I thanked God that I didn’t have to mesh with those people. It was people who didn’t fly more than once a year and they were generic. Note to self: Always fly First Class over the holidays. It sucked being on packed flights. I was so tired, too. But that wasn’t going to stop me from getting a great buzz and reading and writing. I wasn’t going to waste First Class sleeping.
Sigh, I was finally settled in. Next thing I knew, the flight attendant was towering over us, “Whose bag is this?” I noticed she was pointing to mine.
“Well, you’re going to have to push it in more.”
Was she high? I was in First Class. Even in coach I would’ve been shocked. I stared at her for a second, looked around and saw that all eyes were on me.
“You want for me to get up and do that?” I asked astonished.
The curt attendant cowered back, and the male flight attendant came to my rescue.
“No problem,” he said giving it a quick shove.
Maybe I should be a flight attendant. If I could be a bitchy one, it would be bearable.
Alcohol would help my mood, except the flight crew was buckling up already. There were no beverages offered. My enthusiasm started to wane. I looked out the window and watched the ocean as we ascended. We reached cruising altitude, though there was no announcement, and the fasten seat belts sign was still on. I felt like I was on Continental Airlines, not American.
Fuck it, I got up to use the lavatory and snagged a bottle of water on my way back. Too much time passed before I got my champagne and second bottled water. For the duration of the flight I made many trips to the bathroom, since I drank about six or seven bottled waters, along with more champagne, wine and coffee. I wondered if people thought I was doing drugs. That would’ve been funny.
The red-headed woman was sitting in front of me with her daughter. She was wearing a knit hat and scarf, yet asked if they could make the plane warmer. I wish she could’ve heard herself. I’ve never been on a warm plane. This woman seemed pseudo high-maintenance, like she’d never flown First Class and wanted her chance to act snooty. I wanted to smack her. Another woman left her suitcase in the middle of the aisle.
“What, does she think she’s at home?” The flight attendant commented while I waited for the bathroom. He leaned towards her, “Ma’am would you like to put your suitcase over here?” He pointed to a compartment. She didn’t respond.
A man and his child walked up from coach to use the First Class bathroom, but were quickly shut down. We only had one bathroom. They had four. And our lavatory was at the front of the plane by the captain. It wasn’t safe for the random coach people to use it.
The female attendant asked me, “Are you an actress?” I nodded my head no.
“No, I’ve been out of school for a while.” She set down her book, The Da Vinci Code. We chit chatted for at least a half an hour, and I won them over with my charming personality. I was offered a free ride to the city…score!
I had the filet for dinner. First came the miniature Caprese salad, then the regular miniature salad. I switched to red wine. The food was good. The best was when the sundae cart came out. There were even miniature Kahlua bottles lined up. I got coffee with Kahlua and a sundae with hot fudge sauce, butterscotch and nuts. Normally I never eat sundaes, but I felt like an excited kid again.