Rarely have I felt quite so fortunate as being lucky enough to fly Business/First Class to Australia and back. I currently find myself in the airport, having been rushed through both security and customs like a visiting dignitary from the United Arab Emirates. In case you’re wondering if it really is that much better in First Class, let me assure you that immediately upon embarking, you will retroactively hate your peasant existence.
The first thing is the blanket left for you on the seat (possibly by a young Chinese girl with a lily in her hair.) This blanket is so soft, so cozy, so warm. This blanket is made of Jesus. Needless to say, I stole it.
The United flight attendants, reknowned for their contempt towards anything that lives and breathes recycled cabin air, become trusted confidants. The meals are seriously superb, I had a steak that wouldn’t be out of place in a fine Los Angelean eatery. However as I was flying through Sydney to Melbourne on the way in, and this is considered too short a flight to serve a meal, I was forced to ask for no less than seven little pretzel bags. Whereas in Flying With The Chickens Class this would have earned me eye rolling amongst the esteemed waiters and waitresses of the sky, here it was seen as an adorable foible. “Ah, the rich,” I could almost here them say, “They eat pretzels just like us.”
May I add that I am not rich, and found myself in possession of this ticket quite by accident. Which doesn’t mean I don’t feel entitled to it. Oh no. For if I lived in Downton Abbey, I would definitely live upstairs with the toffee-nosed poshes. I often wake up wondering why no one is in my room fluffing my pillows, doing my hair and serving me breakfast in bed. Life, she is a real bitch sometimes, is she not?
The best part of the trip was still seeing my friends and family in Melbourne. All of my female friends in Melbourne are so much on my wavelength; they knew me when I was truly bat-shit crazy, and love me anyway. One of the conversations I had was about co-dependence versus interdependence and how important it is to nourish yourself emotionally with what you need without relying on another. If you go through life holding your own hand, you are never alone. It’s no good being in First Class if you have to be there with someone you loathe (i.e. yourself.)
On this Independence Day, the patriotic message watered down to somehow entail just waving a flag and using American themed plates to serve roasted meats, I wish you true Independence; of spirit, mind, heart and body. May you be as brave as the first folks that declared independence from Britain, and may you find yourself in a community as like-minded as the Founding Fathers. May you have as much or as little interdependence as you want, and most of all, may you be happy, contented and at peace, however you fly.