Enter Europe

Our trip started with a bang. We knew from the start there would be stories to tell. Like the time when we checked in to our British Airways flight (booked months in advance) over three hours early, only to be told that only one of us had a seat on the plane, as it had been overbooked by fifty (50) passengers. Dad, you may want to wait in a parking lot.

The ticket clerk left for a while, leaving us to ponder the sad fate of our trip. She came back fifteen minutes later, only to start telling a story to a neighboring clerk. She glanced at us dancing on our toes and remembered the gravity of our plight. Oh yeah, you have seats.Yeah, we were kind of wondering about that. Oh, and I upgraded you to World Traveler Plus. Cha-Ching! To me, this is like winning the lottery, it doesn't happen. I have flown a decent number of times, but always with the masses back in coach.

After boarding, I realized what a gift the upgrade was, more legroom, wider seats, and who knew plane seats had footrests? Airline elitism immediately set in. I have never been on the small side of the partition, though I had always wondered what kind of secret society of the air it contained. What were the rituals, what mysteries did the divider shroud? Well, I may never know, my heart sank as they closed another divider between us and first class.

Airline culture is defined by class and rank, by what kind of metal is named on your fliers card. I found this fascinating, the first class fares had mini-recliners/rooms at their command. They could stretch out all they wanted and close a divider when the conversation with their fellow high roller began to drone. In the middle class, we were still stuck side by side to one another, but with a few extra inches between shoulders and toes. I can see how people get sucked into the class game. I think I actually felt pity on the coach travelers when I saw them as I made my way to a lavatory. Cows, they looked like cows in a stockyard, crammed together while elbows competed for precious inches of armrest.

Turkish Delight tasted splendid, but back to grass come the trip home. Well, it was good while it lasted, only now I am spoiled.

The flight itself was tolerable, descent movies to sleep through and complementary pillows. Once at Gatwick we caught our train and found the hostel. Once in London, the true stories emerged...