British Airways just started non-stop service to London from Denver. I wish we would have been ready to go in September — the promotional fares were only $99 each way. Of course, knowing airlines, it was probably only one seat on the entire plane each flight, and you had to share it with the beverage service tray, but still.
Have I mentioned that I absolutely hate to fly?
I’m not afraid, really (although there have been moments) — I just hate the entire idea of being locked up in a little tube hurtling along at 32,000 feet, squashed in like sardines and breathing stale, thin air.
Mark loves to fly. Maybe it’s because he drops off to sleep as soon as the seatbelt sign goes on. I couldn’t sleep on a plane on a bet. Not only are they uncomfortable, I always end up sitting next to the person with a) a horrid, gagging cough; b) a small screaming child; or c) much to much width for one of those little airplane seats.
Maybe it’s the other travellers I dislike. You know the ones — they carry on FIVE enormous bags and stuff them in the first overhead bins, then walk to the back of the plane where their seat is? Or they sit in front of you and wait until the drinks are served to slam their seat back to the full, reclined position so you can closely examine the pores on the top of their head for the entire flight? (By the way, I’ve found that pretending to have a horrid cold, complete with wheezing cough, will normally get them to put that seat in it’s full, upright position in a hurry. Especially if you manage to cough directly on them.)
Enough bitching. I wish we could afford to fly First Class. We can’t, though. I looked up airline fares in Travelocity and the price for First Class seats is ten times that for coach. I can’t believe it. Even the Business Class (and just what is that, anyways, except overpriced coach seats for people in suits) is over four times as much.
We were going to get our tickets online ourselves, but decided to enlist the help of a travel agent. The costs of flights we were finding were ranging from $400-1200 apiece for Coach tickets and we didn’t know enough about the schedules or flights to made an informed decision.
I’m still not looking forward to 11 hours over the water, but I’ll just keep repeating to myself : The end justifies the means. Well, not really, but it does remind me of Meg Ryan in the movie ‘French Kiss’ when she’s whispering to herself “We’re going down we’re going down we’re going down”.
Wish us luck in getting an exit row seat — Mark is 6’4″ and he’ll be a tiny bit squished if we don’t.