The 1st class experience

I feel the need to apologize at the outset as I am drafting this blog more than a little tipsy.  I'll get to the cause of said tipsy-ness shortly but suffice it to say that at present I may have had a few chardonnays (what of it?!) and am feeling a bit chatty.  Rather than bother the fellow with a charming British accent in the fancy seat next to me, I shall inflict it upon you oh gentle reader -- I do hope that you don't mind. 

So, in a random, unanticipated and very appreciated twist of fate I found myself in 1st class on a flight from Chicago to Atlanta.  I might never leave Atlanta once I arrive since we are leaving late, the connection is tight and it is what inevitably happens when Nurse Leslie is not with me, but at least I'm going to get there in a comfy seat with a drink.  (Please note that I did in fact spend the night in the Atlanta airport.)

I have to say that I'm of a mixed mind with this first class thing.  It IS fabu in that I'm thoroughly enjoying myself right now but really that's only because I have the strong comparison of coach class.  Truly, it's an ingenious set up.  It isn't that first class is so staggeringly amazing (objectively, it's not) but that coach is so god damned awful that a little more space and a pillow makes us turn into contented goo.  I shall henceforth be referring to Coach class as Steerage because that's what it really is.  So out of Steerage and into the fancy life, I find myself sipping inexpensive white wine and munching on Sun Chips.  SUN CHIPS PEOPLE!!  A single serving bag of baked multi-grain potato chips are what delineate the fancy from the proletariat on Delta.  My seat is comfier but I think that the main comfort is not having to smell my neighbors deodorant. They have effectively lowered our expectations to such a point that cheap white wine, a faux leather seat and some baked snacks are well, classy.

For the sake of accuracy I have to note that said cheap wine was actually the schmancy wine on the plane.  After my first two glasses the 1st class stash ran low and the stewardess (flight attendant?) had to snag some vino from the poor steerage schmoes who have to pay for their in flight alcohol.  Glass #3 was definitely less refined but after 2 glasses who really cares? 

Oh first class, you're a wannabe wearing designer imposter perfume but when you're tipsy, it just doesn't matter.