Italy trip. Part TWO (please read in numerical order)
….so I am ironically waxing on paper about wishing to have MORE moments ripe with the possibility for being "pretentious" while in the midst of Pretentious Centrale (as a bit player, but a player nonetheless). I trusted what they told me was correct, about coming to tell me when we could board the plane. No waiting with 'the little peoples!" It was as if we were 'cordially invited' to now partake in their little journey across the globe: "Please, kind people, may we now interest you in a trip to London? This way please…." Okay, that is not what they said, but it might as well have been.
I should mention that I am pretty sure there was actually a 'club room' even more exquisite than the one I was in. I think there was a First Class only room. Bastards! Also, the restrooms for this oasis (public restrooms, things that are near and dear to my heart when I travel) were of the ilk seen only in two other place in my travels:1) The Four Seasons in Vegas and 2) Harrod's department store in London. They had the tall, to the floor doors. So discreet!! Their paper towels felt like cloth. No Kidding!! :o) Sigh.
My seat was in the Upstairs of the plane. My carryon luggage was quite heavy as was my "purse" so I was dreading the trek up. Thankfully a steward at the top helped me get them up and then into the overhead. Then, the enormity of my naivety sunk in like an umbrella collapsed over me, almost taking my breath away. I supposed the thing that looked much like a sarcophagus was my seat (?) Yes. Okay, I sit. But what was all that stuff on the panel to my left!??! I tried looking around to observe and learn with not much luck. The seats are staggered so you are not directly across from anyone. I tried hanging onto my "purse" but discovered after fumbling around for several minutes and then asking, that when you are in an aisle seat, you have no storage space. I was offered champagne and accepted. Magically, the steward flipped a little toggle and down popped a tiny triangle shaped cup table from my mysterious left-side panel. It is no bigger than the palm of my hand, but quite functional. On the very busy L-SP there is a diagram of the seat, showing how if you press various of maybe 10 buttons what your seat is expected to do, including lumbar support options. There is also a personal screen that swings out on an arm in front of you, just missing the tiny cup table. Great design! More than a legs length away, near the back of the seat in front of me is the clipped up thing that will become my leg rest after we have taken off. I fret about not looking like an ass while trying to figure out how to unbuckle and adjust it (with good reason). I almost wished I was in my familiar place: Coach. They passed out menus that had options such as: "black truffle oil salad with grilled prawns" and a wine and dessert list. Last time I traveled, I was still a vegetarian, so I was enjoying the diversity of my eating options this time around. I was too nervous to hardly eat a thing, delic as it was. So back to my ineptitude; I did figure out how to unbuckle the footrest, but did not figure out how to actually lift it till I saw a seat neighbor raise his. It took me way too long to figure out where to find the place to plug in my earphones to listen to tv and just as long to figure out how to get the remote control out of its nesting place in the armrest. So much for my ambiance of pretentiousness that I was enjoying in the clubroom, I was now clever as a monkey in a chess game and just as clumsy.
It's about a 10 hour flight from Seattle to London's Heathrow. All in all, my trip was a full 24 hour ordeal from Juneau to landing in Rome. I suppose I am trying to justify writing nothing but airport/airplane stuff for two whole chapters…but it was all part of the bigger picture of the trip. I should wrap it up though. Let's see, when you fly Business on BA, you get to go through something called "Fasttrack" at the security points, of which I had to pass through about 3 between getting off at Heathrow and catching the bus between terminals. My friend Beckee, who I met up with at Heathrow, was thankfully able to tag along with me through these 'fast' lines. I am now so spoiled by Fasttrack, in reality I would have been better off never having seen this aspect of travel. What you don't know…you know?
I had been telling Beckee for a couple of months that there was a surprise in Rome. The surprise was that I had booked a car to pick us up at the airport. They called it a limo, but it really was 'just' :o) a Mercedes with a driver that meets you at the exit with a sign with your name. It was less than 15 euro more than grabbing a taxi, so what the heck!?! It was almost dark and raining when we arrived in Rome…
I should mention that I am pretty sure there was actually a 'club room' even more exquisite than the one I was in. I think there was a First Class only room. Bastards! Also, the restrooms for this oasis (public restrooms, things that are near and dear to my heart when I travel) were of the ilk seen only in two other place in my travels:1) The Four Seasons in Vegas and 2) Harrod's department store in London. They had the tall, to the floor doors. So discreet!! Their paper towels felt like cloth. No Kidding!! :o) Sigh.
My seat was in the Upstairs of the plane. My carryon luggage was quite heavy as was my "purse" so I was dreading the trek up. Thankfully a steward at the top helped me get them up and then into the overhead. Then, the enormity of my naivety sunk in like an umbrella collapsed over me, almost taking my breath away. I supposed the thing that looked much like a sarcophagus was my seat (?) Yes. Okay, I sit. But what was all that stuff on the panel to my left!??! I tried looking around to observe and learn with not much luck. The seats are staggered so you are not directly across from anyone. I tried hanging onto my "purse" but discovered after fumbling around for several minutes and then asking, that when you are in an aisle seat, you have no storage space. I was offered champagne and accepted. Magically, the steward flipped a little toggle and down popped a tiny triangle shaped cup table from my mysterious left-side panel. It is no bigger than the palm of my hand, but quite functional. On the very busy L-SP there is a diagram of the seat, showing how if you press various of maybe 10 buttons what your seat is expected to do, including lumbar support options. There is also a personal screen that swings out on an arm in front of you, just missing the tiny cup table. Great design! More than a legs length away, near the back of the seat in front of me is the clipped up thing that will become my leg rest after we have taken off. I fret about not looking like an ass while trying to figure out how to unbuckle and adjust it (with good reason). I almost wished I was in my familiar place: Coach. They passed out menus that had options such as: "black truffle oil salad with grilled prawns" and a wine and dessert list. Last time I traveled, I was still a vegetarian, so I was enjoying the diversity of my eating options this time around. I was too nervous to hardly eat a thing, delic as it was. So back to my ineptitude; I did figure out how to unbuckle the footrest, but did not figure out how to actually lift it till I saw a seat neighbor raise his. It took me way too long to figure out where to find the place to plug in my earphones to listen to tv and just as long to figure out how to get the remote control out of its nesting place in the armrest. So much for my ambiance of pretentiousness that I was enjoying in the clubroom, I was now clever as a monkey in a chess game and just as clumsy.
It's about a 10 hour flight from Seattle to London's Heathrow. All in all, my trip was a full 24 hour ordeal from Juneau to landing in Rome. I suppose I am trying to justify writing nothing but airport/airplane stuff for two whole chapters…but it was all part of the bigger picture of the trip. I should wrap it up though. Let's see, when you fly Business on BA, you get to go through something called "Fasttrack" at the security points, of which I had to pass through about 3 between getting off at Heathrow and catching the bus between terminals. My friend Beckee, who I met up with at Heathrow, was thankfully able to tag along with me through these 'fast' lines. I am now so spoiled by Fasttrack, in reality I would have been better off never having seen this aspect of travel. What you don't know…you know?
I had been telling Beckee for a couple of months that there was a surprise in Rome. The surprise was that I had booked a car to pick us up at the airport. They called it a limo, but it really was 'just' :o) a Mercedes with a driver that meets you at the exit with a sign with your name. It was less than 15 euro more than grabbing a taxi, so what the heck!?! It was almost dark and raining when we arrived in Rome…
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