Sadly, he who walks with nose up in rain often drowns in storms. (Note to self- there is a reason I don't write fortune cookies!)
On our return trip home from the Dominican Republic, the Mountain Man and I quite haughtily skipped up to the check in desk at the airport and asked to upgrade our flight (AGAIN!) to Fancy, er, I mean First Class.
You also may have heard, constant reader, the quite audible pop of our hoity-toity bubble as we were informed that this flight was full, and not only would we be riding in Row 22 of 24, we would also be paying for our cocktails to boot!
Damned is he who counts his free drinks before in flight. (Hallmark is in no danger from me!)
After we waited ( and waited) with the rest of our fellow cattle travelers to be herded to the very back of the plane, we did the only mature thing we could : We drank heavily and made fun of those in the front of the plane who would actually pay more to sit a mere few hundred feet ahead of us.
Oh, and lest we not forget the irony of my Coach Bag sitting in coach while we got bagged.
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| From First Class |
Oh well. You can take mysuestories out of first class, but you just can't take the class out of swigging from airline liquor bottles!
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| From First Class |
1 comment:
I have to agree, "Coach in Coach" is tragic. Although, I only actually fly on Jet Blue which makes no class distinction and I don't own any Coach bags. So, you know, what the heck do I know?
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