This is a Trip Report from the Upper Class cabin
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Anyhow, I was fretting for no reason, as OLCI atT-24 still showed 12A and K, albeit with SEQ 3 and 4 (though I hadn't been fretting about that)
No need to fret about the taxi being on time, but his heading for the M11 rather than either the A1 or the A1 avoidance route caused us both to fret as did the fact that we seemed to hit slow traffic every few miles on the way, with the SatNav cheerily reporting that due to standing or slow traffic all the way round the M25 and M4 it was recalculating the route....to be exactly the same. This of course led me to fret that we would miss our DTCI spot, and I wondered at what point I would be having to phone to say we'd be late. Which we were. By one minute.
At this point I should really have stopped fretting, shouldn't I? But what you think if the Range Rover that preceded you through the first barrier then made its way up to the DTCI via the down ramp? Then, after a good few minutes, reappeared coming down the ramp but instead of taking the option of a circuit round T3 before trying again decided to try to manoeuvre from the down ramp onto the up ramp. Mildly amusing, but this was, remember, wasting valuable champagne time.
Eventually the barrier rose for us, the final fence fell and fretting finished. Well, not completely. Would the security queue be lengthy? (err, no). Would the Clubhouse be rammed? (again no). Would we get treatments? (yes). For us, simple folk that we are, the DTCI though to Clubhouse experience is real kick. Bags gone, waiting none and champagne at the end.
So we settled in for a relaxing 3 hours, which shot by, even though people watching yielded little of interest. Neither celeb nor zeleb and no extended families with misbehaving ankle biters at which to glare. Good to have the Guardian as one of the press offerings, particularly when sipping champagne. Perhaps the only major excitement was MrsPJH being paged as her nail treatment had been brought forward.
To soak up the electric soup we opted for the tapas; salad, dhal, deep fried brie and...errr....chips. All were delicious, particularly the dhal (though could have done with a bit more generosity on the naan front). As no desserts attracted (what happened to that delicious cookie and ice cream combo we had at New Year?) I opted instead for the sourdough and ham from the deli bar.
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Even with the warm and fuzzy feeling that first arises from knowing you're not at work (and others are) and is then fuelled by that fizzy stuff, fretting began again when the boarding time came and went with no call. Had they forgotten? Was something wrong? Why did I refuse that last offer of champagne even though we clearly have a few minutes? Why do I keep catching a glance of a pink elephant out of the corner of my eye? At "Virgin Airlines is pleased to announce the departure of....." we (read "I") were up and off...
...to arrive at the gate where a queue spilled down the corridor. MrsPJH was not best pleased (to put it politely) but there was a priority lane set up and with a bit of "excuse me" we were being wished a pleasant flight and asked to board through the forward jetway.
At 12A and K everything was shipshape and Bristol fashion, water, amenity kit and menu being present and correct. Though battered (the seats,rather than me...oh, perhaps the both of us but in different ways) they were clean and proved comfortable. After a short chat with a much impressed American ("yes,these are our usual seats") we settled in for our bargaining about which films and what food would fill the time. Our rule for the former is that we should not watch anything that we would opt to watch together, so "Birdman", "Boyhood", "Pride" were all out of the running..
David Beckham seemed to be moonlighting as the crew member responsible for our area. Most of the other passengers were opening laptops and reports so were bothering him little, and so he devoted quite a bit of time to use and proved to be charming and generous with the pre flight champagne. There seemed to be quite a few crew serving the UC cabin and I wondered whether there was some training going on,but was later told no, the number serving was as it should be.
Drink and food orders were taken as soon as they crew were released to their duties, and so I settled down with generous G&T to watch "Whiplash" - a film about jazz drumming in case anyone wonders. Some have questioned the veracity of the film, particularly in respect of the scene in which the class was verbally humiliated and a solid object was hurled in order to get someones attention. Clearly whoever questioned this did not attend grammar school in the early 1970s. Excellent film though.
Lunch was taken a deux, with me perching on (aka jammed into) the ottoman. The menu was the same as has been referenced in a number of recent TRs. Pea and Mint soup was fine, and we both opted for the sirloin salad. Good idea for the beef itself, but lacking in spice. I was also surprised about (but appreciative of) the liberal scattering of nuts.
After lunch and whilst MrsPJH was dozing I wandered off to the bar to fall into conversation with a couple of passengers and a couple of crew members, including David Beckham. We bonded over our love of Portland, I drank more Gentleman Jack than is strictly wise and a couple who appeared from economy upstairs were politely shooed away. MrsPJH then wandered up concerned that having seen my seat empty she might be in one those films involving dialogue like "Your husband, madam? But that seat has been empty since we left the gate....."; or perhaps just concerned that she knew exactly where I was and wished to encourage me into responsible behaviour. It was also the case that she was fed up having not packed the fourth needle required to complete the daffodil she was knitting. I tried to cheer her up by pointing out that I had been gifted one of the decorated mugs ("Always liked those", I sighed as the crew member supped his tea. "Want one?" said my new best friend....) but her mood was not overly lifted by this..
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Deciding that I was on the cusp between feeling smooth and feeling rough, I repaired to my seat and settled to watch (some of) "The Theory of Everything". Wonderful acting. Afternoon tea came round, and the doll's house presentation, sandwich confusion and collapsing scones ("that needs to be written up" said our crew member) provoked amusement rather than derision.
It was almost a shame that we were soon into our descent, albeit with a holding circuit or two. Once on the ground, we were beaten to the gates by a couple of A380s which didn't bode well for a swift passage into the country. We were off the aircraft sharpish and into the immigration hall where, praise be, the automation was in full swing and very effective. Two machines became free quickly and once I'd worked out that pressing the passport on the scanner would stop it being rejected, we had photoslips in hand and were presenting them to the security people, who told us that we could have both used the same machine, as they allow you to process multiple people (family members?).Still, immigration, 10 minutes tops, including my repeated rejections.
Luggage took a little while to appear, but within an hour of the plane coming to a halt we were in a taxi headed for Manhattan. Due to congestion we took a suburban route down Woodhaven, which involved many, many traffic lights, but we were still checked in and in the hotel lounge with 45 minutes of the complimentary wine and cheese evening still to enjoy...
We can get better, because we're not dead yet
Interesting to see the amenity kit, too.
