Flying in style

For the first time in my 57 years, and for the first time of several trans-Atlantic flights, I’m in business class. (Dan is here, too. Some of you may have worried that he was back with the masses, but when I made the reservations, I was in a generous frame of mind. He says that it is “much more civilized.”) Greeted with a glass of champagne and lots of room, we are feeling pretty uppity. Here we are, pre-take-off, with our uppity selves:

Dinner was spectacular. Do you know why? Butter. We had butter for the first time this calendar year, and it was glorious. I would have been ecstatic if we had just eaten bread and butter.

We thought that we would be able to sleep, but no. There was an obnoxious man across from Dan, who slammed the overhead a couple of times, and then when he was asleep sounded like a freight train. As an added bonus, this guy (who had a pretty big dunlop) scratched his belly and I guess his balls, since his hands were in his pants much of the time, while he slept. It was gruesome. Everyone was appalled, even the cabin attendants who, I’m pretty sure, have seen it all. So Dan got no sleep. I think that I dozed off here and there, but the seats that lie flat are not a bed. I am old and set in my ways and don’t sleep on hard things for many reasons. But, at least we had leg room. And did I mention the butter?