We are on the plane headed back to Denver after wrapping up a very productive, successful trip to Pennsylvania – one that left us with an optimistic, “can do” attitude… and lot of work on our plates. Yours truly is seated comfortably in first class (on United no less - and you road warriors out there know what THAT means), awaiting delivery of her hot breakfast and beverages (I emphasize the plurality here). Is it just me, or is the orange juice better in first class? A few of you are probably thinking… Wow, already? She hasn’t been a road warrior for THAT long, right? No, I haven’t - certainly not long enough to earn the upgrade status on United. People spend careers trying to achieve that. In fact, I had a brief travel hiatus in the last month, so this is really only my 5th trip. Turns out, I just work with really great people. We recently had a new addition to our team – a project manager extraordinaire with an incredibly impressive resume and the most positive attitude I’ve seen in a long time. I not only get the pleasure of learning from him, but he also gave me his seat in first class. And I didn’t even know it.
It went like this…
After a two hour drive following dinner with our clients last night, we arrived at our hotel late, knowing we would have to be up bright and early to catch a 7:30 am flight. The early flight was especially brutal knowing we were traveling from east to west and needed to put in a full, productive day upon our return. Nonetheless, everyone was in high spirits, and we spent the last 20 minutes of our drive recapping the day, making fun of each other and laughing hysterically at ourselves. The morning came earlier than any of us wanted, and we arrived at the airport to learn our flight had been delayed by at least an hour. I hate plan deviations, and things like this usually leave me crabby… especially when I’m operating on very little sleep and the promise of a long day. But this morning it didn’t faze me like it otherwise would have.
While sitting at the gate, we chatted about our seat assignments, and I lamented my middle seat toward the back. I love the window seat – so much so in fact, that I’ve foregone sitting with friends during trips just to ensure myself a window seat. I don’t mind the aisle seat. But I despise the middle seat.
Oh, excuse me… the hot towels are being passed around. I’ll be right back.
Anyway, my new… Boss? Mentor? Hero? (Maybe I should just go with Tim) nicely suggested that I switch seats with him. I asked him where his seat was. "6B," he replied. To which I responded, Oh, B is a middle seat too, so that’s ok – I’ll be fine. Thanks though. "No, it’s not a middle seat, and I don’t mind switching. I’ve traveled a lot – the middle seat doesn’t bother me." I thought about it some more and counted the seats in my head. Knowing my seat, 25E, was a middle seat, I was almost certain B would have to also be a middle seat. A-B-C on one side, D-E-F on the other side. This was not my first rodeo. Fortunately, I didn’t say this (I can almost hear your sighs of relief), and I just agreed to the switch and thanked him.
When they announced that pre-boarding would begin, Tim nodded at me and said, "C’mon, let’s go." Oh no, I replied, they won’t let me on yet. "Yes they will," he said with patient confidence… and (there should be no surprise here) - they did. As we waited on the jetway, Tim ripped off the stub of his boarding pass, with his seat assignment on it, and patiently waited for me to do the same. He held his out, and instructed me to switch stubs with him. Oh, no - you don’t actually need your seat assignment stub. We can just switch seats. They don’t check those things anyway. Fortunately (again), I didn’t actually say this. But I thought it and wanted to say it, and, holy cow, am I glad I didn’t.
As we got on the plane, I turned right to go to coach and immediately noticed that the first row of seats was row 8. Hm, that’s strange. Confused, I hesitated momentarily, and from behind me, I felt Tim tap my left shoulder and say “6.” I turned to the left… WHOA! First class?!?!? I don’t even know if I said anything. Instead, I numbly turned to the left and looked for room in the overheard compartments. All of a sudden it all made perfect sense – of COURSE 6B wasn’t a middle seat. There are no middle seats in first class.
So I did the only thing one can do in this situation… (As myDad would say) When you get to the end zone, act like you’ve been there before. I tried to wipe the grin off my face and cop an elitist attitude… But I’m pretty sure they were on to me. First, I tried to order my beverages from the food server (and was sweetly informed that the ‘beverage server’ would be by shortly to get my drink order). Then, I politely took the napkin they offered to me, and laid it across my lap as I typed on my laptop and alternated between drinking my coffee, orange juice and water. Yes, all three at the same time. What?
When the server (“flight attendant” just doesn’t seem right here) came out with the meals, he promptly served the gentleman next me – an obviously seasoned traveler, who was on his third screwdriver before breakfast even arrived (on an 8 am flight). The server paused when he got to me, patiently holding my tray and looking at me, clearly waiting for something… I just had no idea what. "Oh dear, we need to get you a linen," he finally said. A linen???? OHHHH, you mean the 'napkin' I had so properly draped across my lap like the high-class lady that I am? Of course… the linen. Oh, no – I have it, I said, shaking my head and trying to appear simply absent-minded, instead of classless. Breakfast was divine. Seriously. Rosemary eggs, turkey sausage, breakfast potatoes, a warm croissant with butter and raspberry jam and a bowl of fresh fruit (pineapple!). I ate every last morsel as slowly as possible, not wanting it to end.
I half expected dessert, or a foot massage, to come next. And it may have… but I was happily napping off my food coma in my leather recliner.
One thing is about this road warrior lifestyle is certainly becoming clear… You win some. You lose some.
