Special to the Businessmirror

Living satire in the flying tube

HAGATNA, Guam—Through the years that I’ve been flying, my austere expense account has condemned me to the economy class. Never once upgraded to business class, which I never fancy, anyway. Ads about “flying in style” don’t appeal to me, anyway. As long as I get to my destination safe, I’m good. I’m your prototype bohemian: practical and down-to-earth even when I’m up in the sky.

I’ve never been envious even when the airline crew at the boarding gate calls the first-class passengers to board the plane first. When the high-priced ticket holders are all onboard, the crew calls the rest of us, the economy classniks. 

When the special mortals are settled in their seats now reading the newspapers, the lesser mortals parade past rows 1 to 4, where the spaces between seats are wide.

I never really knew the life of the privileged behind the first-class cabin until my fiancé Jason, whose mileage points have earned him the elite status, recounted his pampered flight to Manila upon being upgraded to business class.

Based on Jason’s account, here’s how the exchanges at the business class go:

“Mr. Palmertree, will you be dining with us?” the flight attendant asks.

“Oh, sure.”

Then the flight attendant recites the choices of dish, all sounding French and Italian, like wait staff would do at a fancy diner. Add the plastered smile to that.

After the meal is served, the flight attendant comes back:  “Mr. Palmertree, there’s something wrong with this picture,” she says in a singsong-y tone, pointing to his tray.

“What is it?”

“You don’t have water to drink. Let me serve you water,” says the flight attendant, as she pours water into his glass—a real glass as opposed to the hospital plastic cup that economy-class passengers are served drinks with.

Flights attendants at the business class are too attentive to an annoying point, according to Jason.

But here are the other perks: You can order as many drinks as you want. You get a headset for free and the flight attendants will deliver it to you even without you having to call them. You get slippers. You get to use an exclusive toilet that is off-limits to the proletariat at the back of the class border.

Honestly, the class-based experiences of people set apart by the insubstantial curtain after we reach altitude amuse me in a satirical way. It makes me wonder if first-class passengers and “economies” will be treated differently if the plane crashes.

Hello, Karl Marx, what did you say about the class system?

At the economy class, flight attendants don’t care about your name. They just hand over to you whatever they need to hand to you.  If they need to call your attention, they simply say “excuse me,” and then they give you your immigration and customs forms.

You don’t get the singsong-y introduction about the meal time. The flight attendants simply roll the food cart next to you and mechanically ask, “Chicken or pork?” No French-sounding dish. Just the mystery meal that you unwrap from aluminum pans.

Drinks are limited. You don’t get the full soda can. You get just the amount of drink that your tiny disposable cup can hold.   Hey, you paid for an economy ticket, what are you complaining about?

On my flight back to Guam last week, I asked the flight attendant for a headset.

“One dollar” was the frowning flight attendant’s robotic reply.

“Give me two,” I said.

I didn’t need two headsets. I ordered two just to let her know that I could afford to buy more than one headset even if I bought an economy ticket.

I gave her a $20 bill, which happened to be the only cash in my wallet.

“I don’t have change for that,” she said.

“Can’t you ask the pilot to break the bill?” I asked.

“We don’t have change for that,” she repeated.

“Will you take MasterCard?” I asked.

“No, you can’t have a headset if you don’t have a dollar,” she said, retrieving the gadget from me.

I couldn’t watch the plane movie and I had to stand in the long line to the toilet. I couldn’t cross the social border to use the comfort zone at the business class.

To be blunt, I now hate the people in the first class and detest whatever system assigns them there.

I don’t care if they serve caviar at the business class. But I hope that airlines have change for a $20 bill so I can buy a headset while I sit through a movie while I wait for my turn at the toilet.

And please, tell me, airlines, what’s the harm in equal access, at least, to the comfort cubicle?

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HAGATNA, Guam—Through the years that I’ve been flying, my austere expense account has condemned me to the economy class.

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