I Got Upgraded to Business Class and was Envious of Hubby in Coach
he was yucking it up back there
I became an MVP member on Alaska Airlines so if there’s ever an open seat in business class my name goes on a waiting list. I was never picked— until now. The everythingisaboutme--me thinks, “They must know that I rate Alaska as the best airline. They spotted my name and said, ‘Look! It’s Carissa Steefel. She’s perpetually kind to the flight attendants, cleans up after herself in the bathroom and the seat pocket before deplaning, she always leaves us great reviews and still booked a ticket on our airline even after an exit door flew off our airplane in flight and we had to ground our fleet because of an IT outage. Pick her!’”
That’s not how it works. It’s an algorithm.
Hubby Jeffrey is not MVP but was upgraded to Premium. His seat was behind mine, behind the blue mesh burlap curtain. Just a few inches between “Sir, your bathroom is in the back of the plane” and complimentary alcohol.
Inside Joke
Years ago, I guest starred on Seinfeld playing George’s girlfriend. Actor Jason Alexander (aka George) was a genuinely nice guy and remembered me when we bumped into him at LAX a few months later. We introduced our kids (we had already met spouses at the taping) and low and behold our families were on the same flight to Hawaii.
“Where are you guys sitting?” He asked.
“Coach. You?”
“First class,” he said.
Somehow, I knew he would be sitting in first. Maybe because he was making a million dollars per episode?
“Nice,” I said.
Before gathering our families for boarding he said, “I’ll send you back a cookie.”
Jeffrey noticed my repelled expression and elbowed me.
I knew that line would be an inside joke for the rest of our lives.
When I was upgraded for this flight Jeffrey said, “Send me back a cookie.”
Getting Settled in the Fancy Section
It was July 4th weekend. A busy time here in the U.S. Maybe the airline was able to sell last minute 33 A and B seats for $1000 and nobody purchased the 5k business class recliner, so I lucked out.
My gray-haired flight mate arrived and ducked into the window seat. After we exchanged Hellos, he had his nose to life’s newest grindstone, the cell phone. Before take-off, the flight attendant gave him extra attention, giving him the WiFi instructions, then, “Are you comfortable, David?” “Can I get you some orange juice, David?” smiling at him as though he was the Alaska Airline’s CEO. I so wanted to say to the overly joyous flight attendant, “What am I—chopped liver?”
I tried to figure out this special attention. Are certain business class people matched with personal flight attendants? Was he a million-mile, platinum, uber, par excellence flyer? Did she ignore me because I was a freebie upgrade? Maybe it was my hair. Since moving to the east coast my hair has blown up from the humidity, as though I just hopped out of a convertible.
And again--
“Would you like another blanket, David?”
Mid-flight, after another pamper filled escapade I asked him, “Are you the CEO of Alaska Airlines or something?”
David chuckled and said, “No” and offered no further explanation for being treated like a celebrity, nose back to the cellular grindstone.
And then I heard Jeffrey behind me, laughing, having a fun chat with the passenger next to him. They were bonding! I overheard Jeffrey mention to his new friend how he never slept on planes and this dude said, “You’re the perfect flight mate. We’d be up all-night partying.” And they laughed and laughed. I wanted to join the convo, chortle along even if I had no idea what they were discussing.
Are people friendlier in coach?
Snooty Helen from the Bridesmaids movie says, “There’s much more sense of community in coach.” I think she’s spot on but how does she know? Maybe that’s part of Helen’s backstory. Maybe she was a flight attendant who married first-class passenger, Perry Harris III. But Annie traveled in coach and sat next to a gal who was also terrified of flying. Not a great flight mate. But that’s the movie version. This is reality.
There is a camaraderie in the “cheap seats.” A kinship. The working-class crowd, families, college students, air marshals. In case we go down together in this tin can I want to know my death buddy. Will we squeeze hands? Say a prayer? I once grabbed my flight mate in coach when the pilot suddenly aborted landing. She squeezed my hand back. I can’t do that when there’s a thirty-foot console in between the seats. Ok not thirty maybe eight.
This guy next to me would go down clutching his Wall Street Journal. Ok not fair. His wallet. No really. He’d text his investment planner second. Mistress first. Joking here.
I was next to dull David. The wide seat and enough leg room for Michael Jordan were nice but, on this flight, I agreed with Helen, especially when I heard hubby and his new bestie coughing from laughter.
I’m usually not upgraded
First class is called to board before the rest of us plebs. Generally, I’m in Group G or P, eyeing the elite, curious if they were upgraded for free or paid thousands for a leather seat. After all, money gets you there first. You get better service, a metal fork, a polyester napkin, a meal that’s a slight upgrade from the airport salad. It’s always a little awkward when you see the Elite Class passengers at Baggage Claim. I always want to say, “Good thing you deplaned first! Now we’re both stuck here waiting for our bags.”
Honestly, I like the extra space in Business class, but I could fly without the rest. In fact, that’s what I did on this flight.
{{{If you’ve never seen this Key & Peele skit, watch now.}}}
Back to flight
Jeffrey didn’t like any of the boxed offerings in coach while I had already pre-ordered a Carissa friendly Mediterranean tapas box— from the coach selection. The flight attendant actually gave me eye contact when she took my order. She almost lost her balance when I mentioned that I’d prefer my boxed meal rather than the scrambled runny eggs and cheese dishes she offered that would be made to look more appetizing because it was on bone China. Well, maybe ceramic and definitely made in China.
”Would it be all right if my hubby right behind me had my egg dish?”
”No. We’re not allowed to serve in coach.”
”But he’s right there. Literally just behind me. Look. I can grab his nuts hand.“
”I’m sorry.”
”Ok. I’ll have the omelet AND my pre ordered box of tapas.”
We stared each other down. I was determined to feed my hubby. She was determined to let him starve on this 5-hour flight.
My feast arrived and I eyed the galley. Flight Attendant “Karen” was nowhere to be seen.
The eggs looked disgusting, runny as I had imagined, so I handed back the side dishes to Jeffrey— yogurt and bread. I heard Jeffrey and his new buddy guffaw at the sudden hand with grub laid before him. It was as though Thing was his server. Next up was the metal spoon and the package of almonds from my boxed meal. This was serious business-- I wasn’t in a nutty mood.
They say a way to a man’s heart is thru his stomach. In this case it was thru a mesh curtain.
No cookies to send back to Jeffrey but at least he ate and had a fab flight mate.
Let’s chat!
Are you wondering why I didn’t give up my seat to Jeffrey’s new bestie so I could sit next to my hubby? It was business f—king class. Would you?
Is there more community in coach?
What’s your favorite airplane food?
We were bumped to business class on our honeymoon flight to Paris. It was fantastic. I ate, drank, and watched movies all night which didn’t bode well for a 7am landing, though.
Maybe there’s more community in coach, but at 6’5” I’ll take the extra legroom with the heightened snootiness.
My favorite airline food is whatever food we smuggle onboard!
I would probably give it to my wife, but that’s just a chivalry thing.
Did you ever fly on Midwest Airlines back in the day? They served warm chocolate chip cookies to EVERY passenger on every flight. It was amazing!