How to Survive Flying First Class...

Sitting in my wide, cushy seat here in First Class on an American Airlines flight from Boston to Los Angeles, I am suddenly aware that I have made a massive mistake. I have already been served juice in a fluted glass and coffee and am looking forward to my cheese omelet with tomato and asparagus, basal and garlic chicken sausage, and freshly baked breads with a nice mimosa. There is a promise of cookies baked on flight to come.

What am I doing here? These seats are so wide and comfortable. The blanket is heavy and the pillow is full sized. I should not be here. I should be back in coach crammed into a seat that the child behind me kicks while crying. He should be coughing in my hair. I should be craning my neck as the food trolley approaches trying to determine whether the pasta is less offensive than the chicken, and if either of them have a side dish that might be digestible. I should leave this place immediately. Maybe I can go back and see if some poor sap in Coach will switch seats with me. But, alas, I know it’s too late. The damage is done.

This flight is a splurge. We are definitely not First Class kind of people. We do all right, but have you seen the mark up on these tickets? We booked this flight months ago, thinking we were in plenty of time to use out hard earned miles to get a flight out to the folks’ house for the Thanksgiving holiday. Alas, all the “regular” miles seats had long been taken and we were left with three choices: pay for seats, book using “any time” miles at double the number, or book First Class, which came in at five thousand miles less per ticket. So, we closed our eyes and took the plunge.

Oh, look, here comes the nice flight attendant with my sparkling Champaign and orange juice. She looks innocent enough. I wonder if she knows that she is an instrument of evil.