The not-so-friendly skies

Oh my friends...the rich ARE different from you and me.

VERY different. So different in fact, that it apparently doesn't occur to them that they're making the rest of us feel like schmucks.

(Yes, I'm very far from poor, and I DO appreciate that...but wait 'til you see this. THEN, you'll understand.)

I SOOO wanted to like all bloggers. In my previous entry I applauded their right to tell us all about what floated their respective boats, and by all means to detail it in their own inimitable ways. I waved the white flag proudly (I was not ALWAYS so kind) and was determined to appreciate everyone's right to put their lives' minutiae any way they wished. It might not be MY way, but what would the world be without a little flavor?

Then ALL that sticky-sweet goodwill came to a dramatically screeching halt when I read THIS.

(Go ahead...go read it. In DETAIL. I'll wait.)

I am fairly certain this woman has a blogging trackback feature that has now allowed her to notice my blog linking to hers. And she's probably all excited. And now she's here. I am SOOO going to get the nasty comment back. Oh well...

Doryn, I would like to tell you this. First, I will give you that you did say the word "fortunate" in that post. You also have a link to donate to breast cancer (waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay down at the bottom) and that is very kind of you. You obviously have a talent for web design and are quite prodigious, given that you have three sites out there. Additionally, many of your posts are things that I, an admitted girly-girl AND previous Londoner, can appreciate.

But that particular detailing of the ways in which I will NEVER fly...that was too much. Sure I'm envious; that's a given. And yes, I have flown first class in my time (what is with the bullshit of Virgin calling it "upper" class anyway...as opposed to those of us in LOWER class??).

However, given that my Brit husband Mr. Blogger and I OFTEN fly back and forth from San Diego (or L.A.) to Heathrow, I would like to tell you of our general experience. And I think I may crib a bit here to make my point...

Hubby is headed back to London and he couldn't be looking forward to his 11 hour flight on American Airlines LESS!

He has flown MANY times this year and he HATES it (this most often has to do with the fact that I usually cannot accompany him due to our budget). We are unfortunate that his company doesn't pay for his flights home, so he gets to go Coach on American!

Sometimes, when he has racked up enough frequent flyer miles, he gets to go BUSINESS!

With your ticket, your wife drives you to the airport. Usually, she has to drive 2 1/2 hours to LA since that's the only way to go non-stop. When you get to LAX, the wife's car pulls up to the parking garage, where a homeless man is often waiting to greet you!

YOU check yourself in and take your luggage, ALL the while the parking garage charges you an arm and a leg!! When you get to the terminal, you have a special line to go through because you have spent so much money with American and are now a Gold Member, but you still have to wait for security. Yay for special lines!

Then you go through the interminable X-ray lines until you get to the gate, and sit and wait with the bottle of water you just bought for $5.00. In addition, they have bathrooms, in case there are certain bodily functions you want done or if you want to wash your hands while you wait for your flight....and the wet floor sign is always up, but at least it's clean!!

On board, each seat is crammed in so that you cannot move your legs. You obviously have your own television and a scratchy blanket! There are sometimes a pitcher of water and plastic cups in the back near the bathrooms that you can walk up to if you'd like a drink, or you are served at your seat...when they finally get there!

After your meal, which was not the vegetarian one you asked for and therefore prevented you from eating any more than iceberg lettuce and chocolate cake, the freak in the seat next to you asks if you would like a hand or scalp massage and continues to annoy you throughout the flight!

You can eat when they serve you, and won't get anything again until about an hour before you land! Yes, 11 hours of no cell phones, no email, no food, with crap movies and a permanent stiff neck...how often does one person get to have this time alone? It's Hell!

Next time Doryn, I will know enough not to read your site, as it only makes me feel bad about the fact that I will never have Frette sheets, and that my husband, whose exquisite taste would lead us to bankruptcy if I weren't so tight with his spending, will be INSANELY jealous after he reads this.

But he would like to know...what company DOES your husband work for???