People say that money can’t buy you happiness. And Countess Luanne insists that money can’t buy you class.
But they’re both wrong (and dumb) — because money can buy you Business Class. To me, that’s the peak of happiness, and one day I pray I’ll have enough money to buy it whenever I want.
I know I’m not the only passenger who, on the way to Coach, eyes the lucky stiffs up front in their wide, comfy seats thinking, “Turd burglars. Hope you choke on your free, hot nuts.”
Surely there are plenty of people who long for Business Class just as passionately (and violently). But I don’t know that they continue to dwell on it once they’re back on the ground, the way I do. It’s a round-the-clock fixation.
I thank my father for this obsession.
When I was born, he was working as an industrial engineer for Eastern Airlines. He eventually gave up his airline career to become a psychoanalyst (way fewer perks, by the way), but he never let go of his employee ID card. On every family vacation since I was about four, and to this day, he’s whipped it out of his wallet at the gate in hopes of some industry insider love.
His spiel is the same every time: “Hello there. I used to work for the airlines. As a former colleague of yours, I wonder whether you might grant me and my family a courtesy upgrade.”
Hasn’t worked once. I can’t really blame the gate agents: the card’s faded photo, which shows him sporting giant glasses and greasy sideburns, mostly certifies that he used to look like a pervert.
My dad has never given up hope. He hasn’t ever said, “Nah, they never say yes. Why bother?”
From his persistence in the face of defeat, I learned an important lesson:
Business Class is the shit.
And it really is. In Business Class, you get treated like a human — which, on a plane, feels like the ultimate luxury. Really? For me? A drink before takeoff? A salad made of fresh, leafy greens instead of half-frozen iceburg with shreds of cabbage? And what’s this — a footrest? Enough legroom to help prevent deep vein thrombosis? Oh my, I don’t know if I deserve all this!
I finally got my first taste of hot-nut heaven when I was 25 and flying to Prague with two friends. My friend Stella*, learning that they’d canceled our flight and were putting us on a later one, insisted to the ticket agent that they upgrade us. She didn’t have a grimy, 1970s airline ID, but she did have remarkably good looks, and a turquoise blazer that the ticket agent determined looked “classy” enough for a premium seat. So that’s where she put us.
Plunged into this new world without any training, I was like the Fonz at a fancy dinner party.
The attendant came around with the basket of rolls, displaying it so I could choose between whole grain and sourdough. She had her tongs ready to serve me, but they were unnecessary. I reached in and blindly dug around the basket with my hand, like it was a Secret Santa grab bag. So I had some learning to do. But by the end of our eight-hour flight, I was plenty adjusted to flying like a rich person.
We all decided we were born for the good life. We didn’t belong back in Coach, despite what was printed on our tickets. So on our return flight, the group of us planted ourselves in some empty Business Class seats.
Did they ever check the tickets? We didn’t think so.
Of course, the flight attendant came over once we were up in the air with a passenger list in her hand and a polite, Business Class smile on her face.
“I just want to check that everyone’s in the right seat,” she said. “Can you tell me your last names?”
She looked first at me. “Ma’am, your last name, please?”
Silence.
“Ma’am, are you okay?”
I closed my eyes and held my forehead, like I was woozy. “I don’t feel so good.”
I don’t remember anything that came next. I’ve blocked out the humiliation of being marched back to Coach.
It’s so hard to go back.
So hard to return to being the one traipsing to the rear, once you’ve been the one thinking, “Ha ha, look at all you suckers traipsing to the rear.”
I’ve used award points to upgrade a handful of times in recent years, and I admit, I’m as mean spirited in Business as I am seething and bitter in Coach.
I look at the grim faces as they march through, and say with my eyes, “Hey, you guys get a down comforter too, right? Don’t you love making the seat go flat into a bed when it’s time to go night-night?” Sometimes, mid-flight, I crane my head around to look back at them so I can add (again, with my eyes), “Hey, how come you guys aren’t eating fresh-baked cookies? Didn’t you get yours?”
Luckily, they can’t hear my eyes.
Of course if they could, they’d probably say, “Wow. Listen to that bitch in business class. She’s one unhappy person. Proof that money can’t buy you happiness.”
But they’d be mistaken, because those are my happy thoughts. And, because I didn’t pay with money. I paid with miles.
If I had enough money to buy Business Class every time, I’d be the happiest bitch you know.
* Name changed to keep my anonymity-loving friend anonymous.
My first time in Business (our honeymoon- ah, those money-drunk days) I woke up and flailed a drink into S's seat.
It malfunctioned all the way home.
It was August, so the Singaporean staff thought there was a ghost in the seat.
And we stayed married. Proof, that is.
I want some money-drunk days! I love to get my money drink on.
You people fly too much.
Not me. I just fly Coach too much.
My first time in Business (our honeymoon- ah, those money-drunk days) I woke up and flailed a drink into S’s seat.
It malfunctioned all the way home.
It was August, so the Singaporean staff thought there was a ghost in the seat.
And we stayed married. Proof, that is.
I want some money-drunk days! I love to get my money drink on.
You people fly too much.
Not me. I just fly Coach too much.
I love love love business class too. Those warm cookies are something that can really drive you nutso when you're sitting in coach. Hilarious and beautiful, as always Belgray. xoxo M
You did me the ultimate favor one time: traded your first class seat for mine in coach. You got to sit with Josh, and I got to use a footrest and eat with real silverware. So we both got an upgrade. I'll never forget it. xoxo
Two TS posts in less than a week. My hot nut cup runneth over.
If my blog is your hot nuts, that's the highest compliment I could ask for.
Some of us have to get by with metaphors until we get the real thing. It's just as satisfying, really!
I totally milked one of my rare first class moments for all it was worth on a return trip from Rome. As coach passengers slowly filed past me, there I was, already lying fully extended in my seat turned bed, draped in a blanket and casually sipping a mimosa from a crystal glass. One coach passenger openly expressed her envy. I think I responded by telling her that her envy was the reason I fly first class.
That is the way to generate envy: go full bed as soon as you get in the seat. I like to turn on the entertainment system and laugh uproariously — at episodes of Psych.
Of course, the truth is that these days flying first class or business is so middle class. Where is my private jet?
Agreed. I'm going to stop flying commercial.
I love love love business class too. Those warm cookies are something that can really drive you nutso when you’re sitting in coach. Hilarious and beautiful, as always Belgray. xoxo M
You did me the ultimate favor one time: traded your first class seat for mine in coach. You got to sit with Josh, and I got to use a footrest and eat with real silverware. So we both got an upgrade. I’ll never forget it. xoxo
I have never, ever been able to afford the spiffy levels. I feel a strange and pervasive melancholy.
No, no! Turn that frown upside down. Then feed it some hot nuts. You're just going to be more and more successful. And me, too. Someday we will fly business – make it first – class just to have a meeting in the air. Because we're bored of the ground.
I… approve highly of this idea. We will don our noise-cancelling headsets and Twitter each other from one seat over. And high five each other now and then, for no reason at all!
Hysterical! Can't wait to show it to Dad. One of the very few times we did get upgraded was when he DIDN'T pull out the card. And he was just about to use the “former colleague” line, when the agent asked, “would you like an upgrade?” We don't know why we got upgraded, except that there was a wait list for coach, and by upgrading us, they had more room to get paying customers in the back. I loved looking smugly at the long line trooping past us while we sipped our pre-flight wine.
Agreed! Life is all about smug looks and pre-flight wine. Here's to more upgrades. Thanks for the assist, Mom. Amazing you snuck the card past Dad's eagle eye (har har).
Two TS posts in less than a week. My hot nut cup runneth over.
If my blog is your hot nuts, that’s the highest compliment I could ask for.
Some of us have to get by with metaphors until we get the real thing. It’s just as satisfying, really!
I totally milked one of my rare first class moments for all it was worth on a return trip from Rome. As coach passengers slowly filed past me, there I was, already lying fully extended in my seat turned bed, draped in a blanket and casually sipping a mimosa from a crystal glass. One coach passenger openly expressed her envy. I think I responded by telling her that her envy was the reason I fly first class.
That is the way to generate envy: go full bed as soon as you get in the seat. I like to turn on the entertainment system and laugh uproariously — at episodes of Psych.
Of course, the truth is that these days flying first class or business is so middle class. Where is my private jet?
Agreed. I’m going to stop flying commercial.
besides looking like a smug perv, mr belgray needs a trim for that flyaway hair and a collar stay. on the plus side, his shirt/tie combo is spot on. rock on, david b.
Uh, I think you mean Dr. Belgray.
Funny as ever, LB. It sucks when you get the upgrade only to find out it's one of those planes where the Coach passengers don't walk through the biz/first class cabin to get to their seats. I feel ripped off when that happens. Their looks of envy should be as guaranteed as the free warm nuts.
Yeah – when the cabin's divided that way, the Coach passengers should be forced to do a complete lap through the Biz/ First section (walk to the front, touch the wall, turn around) before proceeding to their seats in the back.
Yes! I experience envy when I pass through first and biz class. I also find myself eagerly scanning the seats for celebs and VIPs. Most of the time, I don't see anyone I recognize. So I make up stories about the people I see in the seats — sort of a premier class profiler. If I saw you and Steven, I wonder what story I'd create. Depends on how sweaty you were.
I make up those stories, too. Mine are all about what kind of job or family inheritance might allow those people to afford those seats. Every story concludes with the thought that I should've gone to business school.
I like to make up stories about people who sit in coach. Like, “That balding guy over there…I bet he sits down at his computer to 'get work done' and ends up spending time reading blogs and leaving comments.”
Or: “That family sitting in bulkhead and eating a leftover business class meal probably 'pulled some strings' and that was all they got.”
I have never, ever been able to afford the spiffy levels. I feel a strange and pervasive melancholy.
No, no! Turn that frown upside down. Then feed it some hot nuts. You’re just going to be more and more successful. And me, too. Someday we will fly business – make it first – class just to have a meeting in the air. Because we’re bored of the ground.
I… approve highly of this idea. We will don our noise-cancelling headsets and Twitter each other from one seat over. And high five each other now and then, for no reason at all!
Hysterical! Can’t wait to show it to Dad. One of the very few times we did get upgraded was when he DIDN’T pull out the card. And he was just about to use the “former colleague” line, when the agent asked, “would you like an upgrade?” We don’t know why we got upgraded, except that there was a wait list for coach, and by upgrading us, they had more room to get paying customers in the back. I loved looking smugly at the long line trooping past us while we sipped our pre-flight wine.
Agreed! Life is all about smug looks and pre-flight wine. Here’s to more upgrades. Thanks for the assist, Mom. Amazing you snuck the card past Dad’s eagle eye (har har).
besides looking like a smug perv, mr belgray needs a trim for that flyaway hair and a collar stay. on the plus side, his shirt/tie combo is spot on. rock on, david b.
Uh, I think you mean Dr. Belgray.
Funny as ever, LB. It sucks when you get the upgrade only to find out it’s one of those planes where the Coach passengers don’t walk through the biz/first class cabin to get to their seats. I feel ripped off when that happens. Their looks of envy should be as guaranteed as the free warm nuts.
Yeah – when the cabin’s divided that way, the Coach passengers should be forced to do a complete lap through the Biz/ First section (walk to the front, touch the wall, turn around) before proceeding to their seats in the back.
Yes! I experience envy when I pass through first and biz class. I also find myself eagerly scanning the seats for celebs and VIPs. Most of the time, I don’t see anyone I recognize. So I make up stories about the people I see in the seats — sort of a premier class profiler. If I saw you and Steven, I wonder what story I’d create. Depends on how sweaty you were.
I make up those stories, too. Mine are all about what kind of job or family inheritance might allow those people to afford those seats. Every story concludes with the thought that I should’ve gone to business school.
I like to make up stories about people who sit in coach. Like, “That balding guy over there…I bet he sits down at his computer to ‘get work done’ and ends up spending time reading blogs and leaving comments.”
Or: “That family sitting in bulkhead and eating a leftover business class meal probably ‘pulled some strings’ and that was all they got.”