If you’ve got to be traveling around Christmas, and dealing with the overall airport madness, a surprise upgrade to first class sure is a nice present. Who cares if the TV screen is mysteriously missing? It’s the additional leg room and wide seats that make all the difference, anyway.
Merry Christmas, indeed!
Here’s an interesting finding: when flights attendants were asked whether they would rather work the first-class cabin with its handful of passengers, or deal with the mobs in coach, most of them voted with their feet and chose to work coach.
Why? Because the first-class cabin is filled with a bunch of demanding prima donnas, whereas coach is filled with the humble salt of the earth — people who, accustomed as they are to being crammed into uncomfortable seats with insufficient leg room, are happy as hell when the attendant simply flips a packet of peanuts their way and gives them a glass of soda with too many ice cubes.
This squares with my years of personal experience. I think I have flown first-class precisely once, when I had to get somewhere and the first-class seat was the last one available. Other than that, I’m a coach guy who simply can’t justify the expense of first-class airfare. So I skulk through the first-class cabin as they sip their champagne, munch on free cheese and grapes, and talk way too loud on their cell phones, like they’re the only passengers on the plane. Given my brief, unpleasant exposure to them, I’m not surprised that — with the obvious exception of the Scotsman, who flies first class because he has booked every plane trip on Delta since Reagan was President — first-class air travelers are demanding, first-class jerks.
I’ll share a secret smile with the attendant in coach the next time I’m folded into a seat and she hurls a tiny bag of pretzels my way.