Boldly Go Solo

How many times in life do you get upgraded to first class? In my case, twice. So far.

The first time, a ticket agent and I were flirting. Hey, he started it. When I got to the jetway, he winked. Then he waved a magic wand that sent me to first class. 

The second time was this past October. I was expecting cattle-car misery for an overnight flight to London. Nothing worse than sitting in claustrophic coach with just five or six hours to sleep before having to stay awake for a whole other day.   

At check-in, a desk person took a pencil to my ticket and changed my seat. I wasn’t sure why. Should I be angry? Did she just give me a lousy seat?

Something about the high number and the "G" – I think it was a G – in my new seat assignment made me think I was headed for a non-reclining middle seat near the lavatories. I
braced for the worst.

Once on the plane, the flight attendant
looked at my ticket and said, "worst seat in the house." I KNEW
it! Then she handed me off to someone else, who escorted me upstairs.
Yes, upstairs. It was one huge airplane.

Well. My new seat was
not just a seat. It was a hotel. I had two drawers
to store my things. A chair that slid all the way down into a bed. A
"real" blanket. Not one of those flimsy ones they toss at you in coach. An aisle large enough to cartwheel down.

The flight attendant in my new digs stood ready to
take my dinner order. Sadly, I declined. I wanted to get as much sleep as I could before arrival. No matter.
She told me to feel free to go the pantry – I think that’s the word she
used –
any time I wanted a snack during the flight.

I never made it because I was out all night in my comfy bed. Why, even the groans and complaints from steerage downstairs couldn’t disturb my sweet slumber.

The point of the story is not to rub in how lucky I
was. The point is, if I’d been with buddies, either time, I would have
been relegated to coach. In the first case, I wouldn’t have been
flirting. I would have been talking with my travel
companion.

In the second case, only one first-class seat was left, in a packed plane. They certainly wouldn’t have sent one
half of a couple upstairs while shooing the other to coach.

Okay, I don’t advise
going solo on the slim chance you get upgraded. It rarely happens. All I’m saying is, solo travelers hold some cards. And sometimes hit the jackpot.

And let me tell you, first class is one helluva way to fly.

Photo: Ellen Perlman. Pub sign, Saddleworth, England.