Kiev to London

Kiev, Ukraine November 9, 2015 11AM

I'm at the airport in Kiev.  When I arrived I found that my flight was canceled due to a strike by Lufthansa.  Not good.

But then good news. There is a British Airways flight to London and another to Washington which will put me there almost the same time as my previous United Airlines flight. And the Swiss guy standing next to me in line says the BA flights to the USA are great.  That's how he always flies. Super!



Ah, but then it turns out that every seat is taken and so I am going to have to stay another day in Kyiv and catch an early flight tomorrow.  Oh well.



Down I go on the escalator from the ticket counter to the Lufthansa office and get in line to get my hotel and cab fare.

When I finally get to the head of the line the woman peers into her computer screen and tells me there is a British Airways flight that she can put me on.  The one that was supposedly filled just minutes before. Needless to say I don't mention this.

Not only that but I am given a VIP lounge pass and I'm upgraded to business class. Why? I have no idea, but I'm not asking.

The VIP lounge is very nice as you can see. I believe I could readily adjust to the life style of the elite here. Unfortunately, I can't while away the hours, but just get a taste of this life as my plane is called.

But the wonderful feeling of superior entitlement continues as I avoid the line at the gate  Though I do experience a tinge of guilt at leaving the common folk behind as I avoid waiting in line at the gate and move right onto the aircraft to take my business class seat up front.

The seats in business class I find are the same size as the economy class but the middle seat is replaced by a tray table.  So I don't have to fight my neighbor for space on the arm rest.  And we do get a nice steamy hand towel and a printed menu (chicken supreme, and fig chutney catch my eye). And I also see we get to select herbal teas!

The most important feature of business class, however, is the curtain that is drawn across the aisle separating us from economy.  Why do they do this?   I have no idea,  I've always wondered. But now I'm on the "other side of the curtain" I am going to find out and reveal the secret.

Well as it turns out I still don't know. And, I don't ask.  I don't want to show my ignorance as, after all, I am trying to appear like I belong here in first class. But I am thinking this is to protect us from the commoners?  Or maybe to prevent them from seeing how well we are living up here, causing resentment and maybe revolt? A prospect certainly too terrifying to contemplate on an aircraft?

I look around at my fellow elitists.  I am trying to figure out if they look superior to those I usually associate with in economy class. And of course the answer is yes.  They look just as you would expect "our betters" (to use the British expression) to look.

Like, I assume the guy sitting next to me is a British earl based on his frumpy dress code and the rather tattered paperback book he is reading. It must be his aristocratic lineage that gives him the confidence to present himself in this crude manner.

But then it occurs to me that were he sitting next to me in economy I would have not thought any such thing. Quite the contrary.

I use the rest room. and it is different from economy class.  It has a very nice smell. Really. Some very nice scent has been added. And there are 3 bottles of 3 different kinds of lotions.  Best of all when I exit the rest room, the steward asks me if everything is Ok. Not that I took a long time, mind you. Not at all.  What I think he is saying is to me is that you are in first class. You belong here and we care about you.

I could get used to this and I am beginning to believe I really do belong here.  In fact I am now starting to think that the very nice woman from Lufthansa airlines who put me here must have taken one look at me and said to herself "this is a first class guy". So that's why I'm here.

And now we just had lunch.  It was indeed superior.  The main course was served on an actual dinner plate. Not the usual foil covered plastic container.  And we were offered a choice of rolls from a basket. They didn't just put a roll on the tray with the other food.   We got to choose and I picked the largest one. At least twice the size I've gotten in economy.

And the very nice stewardess asked me where I was headed for my final destination.  They are so nice to be interested! She remarks on my baseball style cap (displaying "Nairobi Java House"). No. I tell her.  I've never been there just a gift from a friend.

Like all good things this flight has to come to an end. I am in no rush and quite content, but we we are running late and I do have my connecting flight to Washington to catch.  But, not to worry. Another nice aspect of being in first class is you get to get off right away not waiting for the long line of passengers ahead of you in economy.

And so we landed and I headed to my next flight. I knew I had sufficient time but should not tarry so proceeded with all due haste.  I was handed a large brilliant orange ticket to hold signaling I should be given right of way as I ran through the massive Heathrow terminal to my final plane for Washington.

All went well. As I proceeded, helpful attendants seeing my orange ticket asked me my next flight destination and pointed the way as I passed  them  urging me onward.  I was imagining this must be somewhat like the heady feeling my nieces and nephews experience when running their marathons being supported and encouraged by the bystanders.

Ah, but then it all came to a halt as I had to get in line and go through security.  And then it got worse as my bag was stopped in the xray machine while the attendants peered in their monitors trying to figure out what they described as a strange small sized box thing.  They asked me and I couldn't think what it might be. I didn't have this problem in all the other security checks I'd gone through.

So then they pulled my bag off the line and we found the problem.  My small portable dental water pik machine. And of course they had to pull every thing else out too. And then I had to try to stuff all the stuff back in when they gave me the OK. Why does stuff expand when you're in a rush to pack it?

Nevertheless, I figured I still had enough time.  And, indeed, I proceeded expeditiously,  down the escalator to the transport tram, Then I rode on the tram to the proper gate section and then I went up the next escalator and finally I ran down the hallway where as I approached the the gate the attendents were out in front of their booth eagerly waiting for me and asking me to confirm my name as I ran up to them.

The plane was there and I had made it with 5 minutes left before take off.  I had made it as I knew I would.

How did I know.  Because British Airways had treated me so well and I knew I was special.  A First Class Guy!

So it was with more than a little surprise that I greeted the news that the dispatcher would not let me on the plane. The rule is that you must be on board 10 minutes before departure.  And they were making no exceptions.  Not even for me.

Well there was only one more thing I could do and I did it.  I told them exactly what I thought of their (expletive deleted) customer service.  Certainly they could have made an exception for me.
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So now as I write it is the next morning. And I am in Heathrow airport after a fine dinner, sleep and breakfast.  A free, all expenses paid, overnight in London thanks to British Airways.  (Well OK, London airport not the city. Not quite the same thing, I admit :).

And here I am.  Comfortable back in my own skin. A commoner as I wait for the departure of my flight where I'll be seated in economy class, as usual, with my fellows.

And with no regrets for having been "on the other side of the curtain:" or now back on this side. Just glad to know I'll soon be on the plane to my final destination and home.