Just passing over the English Channel now as we approach Frankfurt. The long flight over was made more pleasant by our “VIP” status. One of Chris’ clients is a flight attendant, so she wired ahead to the crew to “take care of us”. Though this didn’t mean being escorted into the first class cabin (and business class was sold out when we arrived at the airport, so we couldn’t purchase upgrades – at least we’re in Economy Plus), it did mean goody bags and wine smuggled back from Business – a rather nice French chablis (served in actual glasses!) – not to mention an entire bottle to bring along to our first destination! Of course, it was confiscated by security at Frankfurt when we raced for our connecting flight…
Needless to say, however, there had to be something to complain about… And that would be the fat fuck sitting in front of me. You know the type, has to recline the instant the wheels leave the ground and uses his considerable bulk to jam that seat as far back into my space as possible. All of that is par for the course – but during dinner? Would it really kill you to move your seat forward just a bit so I can get to my food without banging my head into your goddamn chair? Seriously, wouldn’t it be more comfortable to have your massive girth supported by the chair rather than leaning forward into your trough?
But, in the scheme of things, not too bad. Took some Ambien, slept a few hours and now we’re nearly to our first stop. Flight is ahead of schedule, so we should not have any difficulty making our connection to Venice.