by Phedre de Feuillide

Created on: April 28, 2010

Let's be honest, flying first class beats the hell out of coach.  You get the leg room, which being short I don't really need, but it's nice to have it anyways, the flight attendants are marginally nicer and more attentive, and most importantly the alcohol is free.  Being able to imbibe on your way home for the holidays is especially nice.  It's a satisfying snooty one up on a day when you are forced to endure the great unwashed masses and those random unpleasant smells that come drift by from you don't want to know where. 

It was after getting sick on a transatlantic flight while sitting in coach, puking in the smelly bathroom while a flight attendant glared unhelpfully at me, that I swore to always fly first class whenever possible.  You're simply better taken care of in first.  The remains of the quality of service I remember from my childhood, before airline cutbacks, are still in evidence up front.  Of course, things don't always go as planned.  Rolling up to the airport looking like a rock star, giant purse in hand, sunglasses on, trying to look conspicuously inconspicuous, going to the front of every line, thinking you're so cool.  Admit it, you've done it too.  I mostly do it because if you have the audacity to show up with a first class ticket in jeans and a t-shirt, the mental giants who monitor your progress, shuttle you off into the coach lines with five hundred more people than the first class lines, despite showing them your ticket. 

I've had many interesting experiences flying first class, sitting next to celebs, happily passing out from champagne and Ambien, most have pleasant.  One was totally embarrassing.  I was on the final leg of my journey home from studying abroad in Italy, decked out in my Euro finest, luggage overflowing with presents for everyone, when I boarded the plane.  I settled into my lovely large seat, thinking how lucky it would be if no one sat next to me when the flight attendant asked if I wanted a drink. I ordered my last Coca Light before having to settle for Diet Coke, took one sip of the wonderful sweet drink, and promptly spilled the entire thing on the seat next to me.  I called the attendant over who barely spoke English and showed her the soaked seat, which she and I tried to dry with the unabsorbent napkins they have, this going on as the very attractive guy whose seat it was stood there looking very unhappy, me bright red and profusely apologizing, him standing there fuming.  There were no other seats and he ended up sitting on about five napkins on the eight hour flight.  So not my best moment.

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