When you board a giant aircraft like the ones I flew on for this trip, they open up two different jetways for the passengers to board. Economy class boards one and the business and first class passengers board the other. I walked into the plane and a flight attendant directed me down the proper aisle to find seat 15A. I first walked through first class where the seats were arranged 1-2-1. Then I made it to business class where the seats are arranged 2-2-2. I have been told that those suckers back in economy class sit something like 3-4-3. Les Misérables.
My seat was gigantic. It looked like the cockpit to a mechwarrior. For real, a mechwarrior, if a mechwarrior cockpit also came with a pillow and blanket. I had a guesstimated (spell check apparently agrees that “guesstimated” is a word) 13” television in front of me. I had magazine storage next to the television. Down to the left there was a vented power supply for my laptop and under that was shoe storage. On the front of my armrest, there was a button that said “Table/Tisch.” Naturally, I pressed it and a spring-loaded table popped up about an inch from a compartment next to the armrest. I grabbed it, unfolded it, and slid it closer and further from me just to test it out. Did I mention my seat was like the cockpit to a mechwarrior? I folded up the table and put it away.
This could not be the end to how cool my seat was so I continued feeling around and fondling everything around me (except for people) that I could. I had three different windows to look out of and I, yes I, alone controlled whether or not the shades stayed up or down. Okay, so that’s not as impressive, but I did have control over three!
I looked behind me and to the left and there was a nice little cubbyhole that fit my book perfectly. The book I would be reading during this trip is called John Dies at the End. I have told this joke about seven times now but here it goes again: I bought this book because I figured that if it is no good half way through, I can just stop reading because I know how it ends. Hey-oh! Also in the cubbyhole is a grab bag of goodies. It had three Lufthansa golf tees, covers for the earphones I had not yet found, an extra pair of socks, an eye cover for sleeping, and a toothbrush and toothpaste. I was going to take this grab bag with me but I left it on the flight to Frankfurt. I did, however, take the one on the flight to Chennai.
The last things I found were the remote control, oh the magical remote control, and the headphones in a flap in the armrest. This was how I commanded every bit of comfort I requested on the flight. The remote controlled nearly every feature of my seat. It reclined back, moved my butt forward or backwards, and lifted my legs. I could increase and move the lumbar support and give my lower back a massage at the touch of a button. I had access to about 63 different movies and documentaries (I chose to watch Surrogates starring Bruce Willis, meh), flight information (about 37,000 feet in the air, the temperature is about -40°F. It just so happens that is also -40°C so if you didn't know, now you know the common point on those temperature scales), music, and video games. If I turned the remote over and on its side, it was essentially an elongated Super Nintendo controller. Think of it in the same way you do a sideways Wii controller looks like a Nintendo controller. I had nine different games to choose from – one of which was Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? (if you know trivia outside of America). In the first five questions, there was one about famous cricket players. I used my lifeline and the lifeline said, “I know this! It’s D, of course!” Oh, of course.
I call Krista to tell her of all the cool things my mechwarrior cockpit has to offer and over the intercom the attendant tells us it is time to take off. I hang up the phone and three blogs in I haven’t even left Detroit yet.
No comments:
Post a Comment