First Class, All Sass (I’m sorry this is a horrible title)

My journey began as most epic quests begin: In torrential rain. Hurricane Harvey, upset with his demotion to tropical storm, had begun to lash at Louisiana, and bay-beh, New Orleans never passes up a flooding party. Worry regarding my metal bird’s ability to both swim and fly at the same time aside, my world was about go round and round (as the Ratt prophecy predicted) by an exciting and exotic travel subculture: FIRST CLASS. This is less “bitch got money” and more “bitch has severe anxiety so her amazing dad hooked her up with Sky Priority”.

Possibly Mars, probably Arizona, as seen from First Class seat.

Thoughts and feelings regarding First Class:

  1. I was very worried they would discover my insufficient social status and kick me out. Worry was eliminated once they took roll (literally a thing that happens) and my name all up in there.
  2. Everyone is so nice! Even the other passengers! For nearly 4 hours I was in this overly polite secret society full of fast typing power-point women and Tumi errything biznass dudes.
  3. I started to get internally angry at the polite flight attendant gal for being nice because, dammit, they should treat EVERYONE this way. The anger quickly dissipated when she gave me free headphones and free fancy snacks and offered me free alcohol as I curled up underneath my free fancy blanket while watching Silicon Valley. Cappuccino? Yes please! Make me feel special, uncomfortably smiley gal!
  4. An entire plane load of people waiting for their bags and mine come out first with bright yellow “priority” stickers that positively scream “look at this bitch right here she thinks she’s better than you!!” so I try to hide my glee by staring at the ground, but I’m smiling while staring at the ground so I look like a maniac serial killer who managed to smuggle body parts from New Orleans to Los Angeles.
Texas vinyl record farms as seen from First Class seat.

Conclusion:

First Class is the only way to fucking travel and I will more than likely never be able to experience it again. To fill the void where there was once ample leg room and free 7am bourbon, I will, from this moment forward, bring extra snuggies for my seatmates in coach and lead them in a round of mezcal shots from travel shampoo bottles while we imagine the depraved lives of those assholes in first class.

 

 

 

 

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