“The three great essentials to achieve anything worthwhile are, first, hard work; second, stick-to-itiveness; third, common sense.” ~~Thomas A. Edison
"We're all sold out so I'm going to have to upgrade you to Business Class." I stared at the airline ticketer across the counter. I'm going to have to...He obviously didn't want to...
"Okay...," I hesitated, not quite comprehending. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"
"Economy is full so I'm upgrading you to Business Class, ma'am," the young man repeated patiently. B.U.S.I.N.E.S.S. C.L.A.S.S...UPGRADE.
"Okay...do I have to pay for this?" I was going on vacation. All I wanted to do was relax. I could feel my hackles rising, preparing to put up a fight if he insisted that he needed my credit card to pay the difference.
Over my dead body.
"No ma'am. We're just upgrading you for the flight there. When you return, you'll still be economy."
Instantly releived, I nodded and waited as he made the changes on the computer, printed my boarding pass. He showed me my gate and boarding time. 0825am. Don't be late. I nodded, smiled and went on my way. It hadn't registered what being upgraded to business class really meant.
It didn't sink in until I walked onto the plane. A flight attendant asked me my seat number and she instantly ushered me toward the front of the plane. Interesting...normally they just smile and wave you on down the aisle. This time I was getting a personal escort.
"3H is right here, ma'am."
I stopped and stared. Wait, what? I looked around, confused. I looked at my ticket. Yep, 3H. I had an aisle seat and it was my own personal compartment. I had a window to myself. A desk with a reading lamp, a very comfortable pillow and a leg rest to go with the extremely large, comfortable bucket seat that was 3H.
Holy cow, I was in Business Class, as in First Class. I'd never flown business class or first class in my life.
I put my bag down, sliding into the behemoth that was my seat. I stretched my legs out. I rubbed my palm over the plump pillow. I flicked the reading light on to see if it actually worked. Then I spied the remote for the chair. I could move it forward, backward, tilt it, lower it into a bed...turn it on for a massage.
I froze. I could have my own personal massage? I hit the button to see what it felt like.
Instantly the cushions at my back started to inflate and deflate as a little engine from somewhere within the seat whirred to life. This was a massage? Apparently I could intensify or de-tensify to whatever setting I preferred. I was poking buttons, checking the chair's capabilities when a flight attendant approached with a very fluffy violet colored comforter.
"Excuse me, would you like a blanket?"
My fingers hovered over the remote's buttons. I felt like a child with their hand caught in the cookie jar. I eyed the heavy blanket. It was 0830am, I was running on four hours of sleep. It was so tempting. But it was also 70 degrees out. Really no need for a blanket.
But this is business class...my subconscious whispered.
I smiled. "Sure." I reached for the proffered blanket, but instead of giving it to me, she unfolded it and proceeded to tuck it around me.
I bit my lip to keep from laughing out loud. I just got tucked in like a five year old at bedtime. Was there going to be story time too?
Was this for real? I looked around. The business class section was fairly empty but the attendants were studiously tucking in other passengers. I could tell that they were still loading the plane and I waited nervously for some overweight suit wearing, out of breath puffing, business man to come stand over me with his briefcase and demand that I get out of his seat.
I was sure I had to be in the wrong section. There had to be some mistake. Someone was playing an ugly joke on me and I would have to be escorted to the back of the plane in front of everyone, castigated for my assumption that I could sit in Business Class.
"Would you like water or guava juice ma'am?" a woman asked, holding out a tray of both. The water and juice had been poured into delicate long stemmed drinking glasses.
"Uh...juice," I stammered. She smiled and placed the juice on the desk. "Here's a damp cloth for you," she said, placing a tray holding a neatly rolled white hand cloth next to my juice. I frowned at the cloth, what was that for?
I looked around again, searching for the security guard...someone...to come and fetch me. I had to be in the wrong seat. I mean, couldn't they tell I didn't belong there? My hair was greasy and tangled, I hadn't had a hair cut in months. Let alone a shower in a couple of days. I was wearing a plaid western style pearl button down with my sleeves rolled up (not classy at all), my pant legs too were rolled up, and I had kicked off my sandals to enjoy the freedom of leg space. Ashamed of my dirty, cracking bare feet, I hid them beneath the violet comforter. I didn't know if going barefoot in Business Class was a big no-no.
No one ever came to remove me. Instead, they shut the doors and prepared for takeoff. I reclined comfortably in my chair and stared out the window, listening to the pilot over the loud speaker.
"Good morning ladies and gentlemen. Welcome aboard Hong Kong Airlines. Your flight to TaiPei will be roughly one hour and forty-five minutes. We are expected to be touching down around 1045am. Enjoy the flight."
Only one hour and forty-five minutes? I stretched out my legs, plopping them on the leg rest, wiggling my toes. Why couldn't I have been upgraded to this when I flew to Hong Kong in September? Or when I flew to New Zealand two years ago? Thirteen to sixteen hours in the air in Economy, hat was when that upgrade needed to kick in.
Another attendant arrived, popping open a menu in front of me. "What would you like for breakfast? Noodles, cereal, or an omelet?"
Knowing most flights provided food at an exorbitant cost, I frantically scanned the menu, searching for a dollar sign. I had come prepared with a meager snack since it was such a short flight.
"Well?" Her patient smile reminded me that I needed to be quicker. Biting the bullet, I went for the omelet, deciding that since I was on vacation I'd consider it a splurge if I did have to pay for it.
The plate she set before me was like no other airfare I had had. Not only did it not come with a price tag, it actually looked like a meal someone had just prepared, instead of the normal microwave smell and texture of cardboard.
My mouth watered. Yogurt, fruit, golden brown potatoes lathered in butter and rosemary, and an omelet perfectly cooked and folded to contain cheese and cherry tomatoes. Delicious. I dug in. If I had to pay for it, so be it.
As I munched away, another attendant arrived to ask if I would like another delicately stemmed glass of water. I nodded and reached for the glass she held. She took a step back, holding it away from me. "Let me rearrange your plate for you, ma'am," she said, instantly all business like. I felt my eyebrows shoot up as I quickly snatched my hands away, apologizing. That apparently was a big no-no.
I watched as she neatly lined up the other glasses I had acquired on my tray before setting the other one down. "And here is a new damp cloth for you," she said, replacing the one I had never used.
I stared at the three neatly lined glasses, my tucked in comforter, the tightly rolled damp cloth. I reached out and touched it, yep, it was warm. So this was Business Class?
What a revelation.
I'd always wondered what went on behind those closed curtains. What I was missing. It seemed strange that there had to be such a division. That pulled curtain was an obvious barrier to the economy class. Segregation of the working order.
Granted, people paid a lot of money for the seat I was lounging in like it was my job. It all came with a price, everything does. Nothing is FREE. And they definitely made it a desirable thing to have. The leg room, your every need and want catered to. But at the same time, it felt ridiculous. I was perfectly capable of lifting my hand to pick up a glass of water from the platter she held, but that was overstepping some hidden line. She was there to serve me. I knew that by having this designated section on the plane, she had a job. But I didn't need all that she was giving me. I don't think any of us do.
I thought about all the places I had been and how I got myself there. I worked and scraped together pennies to travel. In fact, I was flying to explore Taiwan for two weeks and I only had about $4,000 US dollars to my name. My budget for that trip was limited to $1,000 of that money and really I shouldn't have been going to Taiwan in the first place. I should have been hunkered down in Hong Kong working to make more money because I had a lot more than $4,000 in debt that I needed to pay off.
But when it came down to it, I wanted to live my life as well as pay off debt. I didn't want to turn away amazing opportunities to see the world because of debt. If I was careful and wise about my money, I could do both I figured. So that was why I was on that plane. It was a risk, knowing that if something drastic were to happen to me, I would be hosed, my finances wiped clean. I had no health insurance, no backup funds to dip into. This wasn't anything new. I'd been living this way for a while. It was a risk I was willing to take. After all, isn't life one big risk?
I was enjoying the comforts of that chair, don't get me wrong. But I knew that I would never pay for Business Class just to have those comforts. The money it would cost for that seat could have easily paid for half of my trip to Taiwan. A life time of experiences was worth more than any reclining, back massaging chair would ever be. I didn't belong there and I was okay with that. I felt like a fish out of water. I'd rather be bumping elbows in the back row in economy any day.
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