Hey, I'm worth it! Checking in, clicked the "Upgrade Available" button in a heartbeat. Of course I'm a first class person, but budget and conscience usually won't go along.
Did it make a difference? You must be kidding. My long body, not to mention wide beam, just don't fit those midget-model size seats jammed into planes these days. I'm so old I remember plenty of
leg and bottom space, always a tolerable meal, free luggage up to a point. The overheads were empty. You got dolled up because air travel - totally first class.
I whisked through baggage check, checking not one, but two raggedy little bags for free. I carried on only myself. Bright orange "Priority" tags made my shabby luggage all the easier to grab off the carousel which, at my final destination,
is actually a straight line roller that does not roll; you drag your luggage off any way you can.
Anyhow, I whisked through security like a government official or something, boarded the plane immediately following infants
and the infirm. A flight attendant fawned and asked if I wanted something to drink before take-off. Had that pasted on smile down pat. Smiled with his eyes, but looked sad when no one was looking.
is served, a real meal, not just six nuts of questionable heritage and age. It looked wonderful: omelet, potatoes, sausage, fresh fruit, yogurt, etc. Wouldn't you know I was stricken with the Washington State Tap Dance and couldn't eat much.
Still I had First Class privileges close to the facilities. And you ask if it made a difference.
Alas, the Slow Lane commuter from Chicago knows no class distinction.
My seat to the rear was in the midst of the Biker/Redneck section. They were, however, polite and sleepy. My seatmate didn't slop all over me. These guys neither smelled bad nor made made them. On a commuter, that's first class!