Flying business class is the way to fly the skies
AFTER two days of uncomfortable air travel, squashed up against my fellow humans like sardines in an airborne can, I was queueing to board yet another long flight – London to Calgary this time. At the check-in desk I heard that little exclamation all travellers fear. “Uh-oh!” “What’s the matter?” I asked in a trembling voice. “There seems to be a problem with the bar-code on your boarding pass.”
In a moment of inspiration brought on by sheer panic, I said: “I know what the trouble is. That boarding pass is trying to tell you I need an upgrade.”
Sometimes chutzpah works and the lady smiled and said: “Let’s see what’s available. Ah yes, there is one business class seat free. You can have that.”
I do not often kiss airport staff members but I made an exception for her. She seemed surprised but not unduly annoyed.
I was soon wrapped in comfort, enjoying all the luxuries that usually befall only those who do not have to pay for their own tickets.
I sipped French red wine, dined on seared salmon followed by freshly brewed cappuccino and tested the massage feature on my reclining seat.
I had two windows to myself and looked down from 12 000m at exotic and remote places with names like Kugaaruk, Taloyoak, Flin Flon, Iqaluit and Eikelberg, all coated with glistening snow.
When it came to bed-time I pressed the button to turn my seat into a full-length bed. I thought of the poor sods at the back trying to catch a few minutes of fretful sleep while shutting their ears to the bawling of the babies and the snoring of their neighbours, whose ample posteriors had somehow overflowed to colonise half their seat space. Air travel is not for the faint-hearted. I know I shall be back among my fellow peasants when next I travel by air, but I will have the satisfaction of knowing I have dwelt – even if briefly – among the gods on Mount Olympus.
(By the way, how do the airline chefs manage to get that battleship grey colour into their scrambled eggs in cattle class? The eggs up there among the gods were just the normal yellow colour. Life is full of mysteries.)
Last Laugh
Joe went water skiing and fell off on a sharp turn and ended up splashing about in the lake. As he waited in the water for the boat to turn and retrieve him, he noticed a duck hunter hiding among the reeds nearby. “Don’t shoot!” Joe yelled in mock alarm. The hunter shouted back: “Don’t quack!”