A chapter in an occasional series of posts documenting an autumn 2021 road trip through the Midwest.
Bound for Omaha, baby.
The gate agent announces the boarding sequence; special needs passengers, military, first class, and economy.
Walking past the proletariat towards the jetway and my first class seat I could almost feel their mixture of envy and hatred. Settled in my seat I feel the pain of the passengers filing past and back to damnation.
In truth, this will only be my second time flying first class, so I’m well acquainted with economy, the search for overhead space and squeezing into a seat. I know what it’s like having someone’s seat back in my lap and feeling my own seat back yanked from behind as a fellow passenger steadies himself while he shoe horns his way into his own seat in back of mine.
The previous time I flew first class Cora and I were returning from Richmond, Virginia and I had to be at work the next day. No day of decompression. From two weeks away from work, straight back to the office to face 500 emails, whatever work my office back up decided she didn’t feel like doing, and an ass chewing from my boss for having the audacity to take time away.
I decided to liquidate damn nearly every American Airlines mile I had and upgrade to first class.
I’m flying first class this time because COVID isn’t done yet and I’d like to have as much space between me and the rest of the public as possible.
That and the fact that the first class price wasn’t much more than economy.