Upgrade Downgrade

I read today that a woman flying in premium class from JFK in New York to San Diego became so enraged when an economy passenger was upgraded to the seat beside her that she physically assaulted the stewardess and the plane had to be diverted to Denver for some hours, where she was met by law enforcement officers.

The television screen at the economy passengers seat wasn’t working.  He wanted to watch the inflight movie, I suppose, and complained to the stewardess.  So she got him a seat in premium class.

There is no mention in the report of this economy class passenger being a serial killer, or a nose picker, or in any way offensive.  But the woman he was put sitting beside was enraged because this man had paid less fare than her, so she thought it was unfair that he could sit beside her.

I assume that she began by verbalising her anger, but when she got nowhere she “became physical” with the stewardess.  How mad is that?

Isn’t being upgraded sort of like winning a raffle?  Some people are lucky, some aren’t.

If you went on a holiday that you’d worked hard to pay for and found out that the people in the room next door won the holiday, would you go bananas?

His Nibs and I were almost upgraded once.  Almost.

We were in Bangkok airport, and were to fly to Istanbul, where we would have a four hour stopover.  His Nibs began an absolutely random conversation, as he does all the time, this time with the security guard who was keeping an eye on all of us ragamuffins in the queue for cattle class.  He told him that he (His Nibs) is a security man too, and hey presto, that was enough.

The security man went up to the counter, whispered a bit to the woman at the desk, and we were called, like celebrities, out of the queue, and led straight to the Business Class desk.  I was beside myself. This had never ever happened us before.  I couldn’t believe it.  His Nibs hissed at me a bit to try to act cool, as if were in the habit of going left at the door of jumbo jets, instead of being shoved down into the seats created for midgets that make up economy.

When the woman smiled at us, and took our tickets, I tried not to dance on the spot.  I should have known this would never come to pass.  For once in my life a sort of natural optimism had overtaken me.

She was just about to issue us our business class boarding passes, I’m sure of it, when her face fell. 

“I’m so sorry” she told us “your flight is delayed for six hours.  We hope this won’t cause you any inconvenience.”

I was too disappointed to speak.  His Nibs had to take over.  Normally, when something even slightly unpleasant like this happens, I step in and start using my “trying to be posh” voice.  It doesn’t get us anywhere, but it makes me feel better.

I was half sobbing though, so His Nibs had to explain that it was quite inconvenient, actually, since we were on our way to Dublin and our stopover was only four hours, so a six hour delay could get a bit messy.

The woman kindly promised to find us a flight to Dublin.  And she did.  Via Copenhagen.  Where we were given two seats in Super Economy.  I didn’t even know Super Economy existed.  And if I had I probably would have assumed that it referred to a sort of upgraded economy, where each person actually gets enough room to sit down.  No.  Super Economy is the opposite.  Where they usually put three seats, there was four.  And joy of joys, we were put beside a couple with a small  and incredibly grumpy baby.  Who roared his head off from Bangkok to Copenhagen. 

A ten hour flight, plus the hour we circled over Bangkok immediately after takeoff, for some inexplicable reason waiting to dump fuel.  Both time wasting and poisonous to the environment, I would have thought.  However, that’s not the point.

And that hour of messing about meant I had to shout a lot in my posh voice in Copenhagen, where the doors to the Dublin flight were just being closed when we arrived at the gate.

The great tragedy of the story, for me, is that I have a bad feeling that that was it, our one chance.  We’ve cashed in our upgrade chips, so to speak, and I don’t believe for a second that it will happen again.

If by some joyous chance it does, I would appreciate the person who gets to sit beside us on our upgraded flight to shut their mouth and be happy for something nice happening to a stranger.  Your flight cost what it cost, it shouldn’t matter a feck to you what the person beside you paid.  I promise to be good, and not to stink, or pick my nose, or act common.  I’ll probably be too intimidated. 

Apparently the woman isn't to face any criminal charges.  After delaying a flight for several hours, "getting physical" with a stewardess and being a complete bitch.
Makes you wonder about us eejits getting fined for not paying our M50 toll on time, doesn't it?