It was an extraordinary face. But not in a good way. It was perfectly round, or would have been if it wasn’t for the sagging. Gravity appeared to have pulled the corners of her eyes and mouth down into a permanent frown. She resembled the unhappy version of the smiley face. Two long plaits of blond hair had been decoratively arranged on top giving her the look of an unopened gift. A number of chins made their way down her neck to a British Airways uniform stretched to its very limits. Her name tag announced her as Gretchen. Grouchy Gretchen, as she quickly became known. She was not having a good day.
Nor were her customers.
We were on our way from San Francisco to Athens, via Heathrow, squished into business class, lined up, top to tail in rows of 8 across, like sardines in a tin.
This meant my face was uncomfortably close to my neighbors, leaving us looking almost directly at each other. The British Airways website describes business class this way: “Our Club World seats are designed for relaxing, sleeping, or getting work done, with plenty of space and privacy”. This is B.A’s idea of privacy…….
Gordon and I had the two middle seats facing backwards, a rather unsettling direction to be facing, especially on a steep climb after take off. My body wanted desperately to slide down to the back of the plane, but was stopped from doing so by the seat belt cutting into my stomach. It would appear that British Airways does not allow those using miles (that’s us) to purchase a seat facing forwards. A charming gesture that does not endear them to me in anyway!
The seating arrangement was 2-4-2, with an aisle so narrow the flight attendants couldn’t use carts. See if you can spot the aisle in this photo
This meant that every tray had to be delivered separately from the galley by the flight attendant. Consequently the niceties of a pre-dinner drink and snack were done away with. Instead everything came at once, my pre-dinner drink, the first two courses of dinner, a glass of wine, a glass of water, a bread roll, all unceremoniously piled onto a small tray. To get the tray to me Grouchy Gretchen had to stretch across my neighbor and pass the tray above the partition (see the second photo above) balancing the overloaded tray in one hand, steadying herself with the other while trying desperately to keep her ample bosom out my neighbor’s face. I was beginning to sympathise with Grouchy Gretchen.
Trust me, dear reader, when I tell you the Fabulosity Meter was not making a sound.
And then there was the food. British Airways describes this as “Delicious food using fresh, local ingredients”. We are 30,000 feet above the earth. Where do they get these fresh local ingredients! Never the less, I went for the healthy option of “lightly poached salmon with fresh vegetables”
This is what I got!
After dinner it was bed time. Our seats reclined, and a foot rest folded down from the back of the seat in front. It made for a reasonably comfortable bed. But now access to the aisle was only gained by climbing over the reclined feet of my neighbor. It was virtually impossible to do that without waking him up. He was beginning to side with Grumpy Gretch!
Gordon was much luckier. His neighbor was small and green and never complained, not even when Gordon accidently knocked him to the floor
Now dear readers, I do recognise that a rant on flying business class is coming from a very privileged point of view, a first world problem I admit, but I would like to remind you that this blog is called Andrew’s Fabulous Travel Blog.
I like to travel fabulously.
Today I was not.
B.A. stands for Bloody Awful
Andrews Fabulous Travel Blog 