Putting the Ass in First Class.

I've just landed in Charlotte, NC for a fifteen second layover before heading off to Miami!


Due to the wonderful world of Airline Miles, I was able to book myself in First Class--considering it was the last seat on the plane, i really didn't have a choice, I suppose.

But wow! First class! It’s my first experience not flying coach. All of the fancy business people who fly in suits surround me. Very serious. No laughing! Early boarding! Woooo!

The guy across the aisle from me spent most of the time waiting for the rubes to file into coach on the phone, speaking to a colleague in his southern accent. He’s asking about Julie’s office. Here's a short transcript:

"Is Julie's office nice?"

"No. Is it nice?"

"Julie's office. Is it. . . Is it. . .the office? Is it. No. Is it nice?"

"Is Julie's office...? Is julie's office...? Is julie's office nice? Is it nice?"

There seems to be a breakdown of communication. Maybe it’s because he’s calling someone from an airplane.

After only three hours of sleep last night, I was ready for a serious nap, and the plush seating in first class is built for just such an experience. As soon as I sat down, the seat enveloped me and I could feel my eyes drooping.

I was nodding off minutes after being seated, and I couldn’t have been happier. (And for the record, Julie’s office apparently couldn’t have been nicer, my fellow first classmate eventually ascertained before hanging up.)

Finally, there was silence—aside from the roar of the gauche passengers in Coach and the ridiculous new age music piping through the airplane. (These were accompanied by visuals of running streams and leaves swirling in a park the few times I opened my eyes.)

Just as I was passing out, I heard a little voice in my head. I couldn’t quite decipher what it was, but it went away and I tried to ignore it. Then, just as I was thisclose to sleeping…it happened again. Muttering.

What the hell??

I opened my eyes and looked to my right, where another business traveler was seated. An Asian man in his late 40s, wearing a smart dark orange polo and khaki pants. Quietly, but to himself, he’s reading a book. I can hear him. The book he’s reading? An alarmingly well-worn copy of this:

Loving Mollie.

This can’t be a romance novel, can it? Is this man…in first class!…reading a trashy romance novel??? He puts the book face down for a moment, and I see the typical long haired male model pressing who I can only assume is Mollie up against his firm bosom. Loving Mollie. The tagline reads “A song of love plays forever.” Ofcourseitdoes.

For some reason, my mind wanders to MollyJoy Ruane.

I guess they’ll let anyone sit in first class. Am I drunk with Keith and his family in Miami yet?