The Hose

Bourgeois Tendencies

Recently I caught myself judging people I love. I was having dinner with some family, and someone was explaining how she conned some flight attendant into giving her a bottle of champagne. Her shtick included pointing out how both my cousins had recently graduated and how they were all traveling to SF in order to celebrate. As it were it was something to celebrate, but the point of her story is that she, as a high power sales executive with more frequent flyer miles than anyone EVER deserved that sort of treatment. She then lightly disparaged Southwest Airlines for treating everyone the same regardless of how important they are to sustaining the fragile airline industry. I, a product of Berkeley and Columbia but still a child of the working class, was offended. You see, I am down with the proletariat in spirit if not in recent experience and I think everyone (even the depressingly poor) should be treated well on flights. I mean besides, who the hell do flight attendants think they are? How much are they pulling down a year?

From my perch on a nice couch in the bar of a high priced hotel on Nob Hill I smugly judged the bourgeois tendencies of people who have only ever showed me love. I felt bad about it for a moment but then was reassured by my own smugness. Of course, later, I realized what everyone always assumes about me…I am completely full of shit.

I was flying to the ATL, Hot-lanta (Holla if ya hear me!) to resume my career after 18 months of waking up at 10am in B School. It was Sunday and I had to get in by Monday morning, my flight was at 5pm I would get in by 8pm and it would all be great. For a moment let me digress and point out that Newark Airport is the most ghetto airport ever. I need to stop going there and start flying out of LaGuardia; it’s really the only airport I can tolerate. By the time I got to the gate it became apparent that there was some trouble, the flight had already been delayed till 6 and every other delta flight heading anywhere (all of them seem to go to Atlanta) was similarly delayed. In the distance, a Russian man berated the desk representative and asking her if he was her slave. The attendant, repping hardcore for jersey trash, told him to shut up and sit down. Not knowing what else to do, I curled up in a ball on the floor and fell asleep.

I was awoken and taken and on board the plane by 7pm. Everyone was confident that we would get to Hot-lanta (holla if ya hear me!) by 10pm. I was surprised to notice that I was seated in seat 1C. That’s right! First class! My neck was hurting from sleeping on the floor so I welcomed this surprise despite the reservations of my inner xtian. When the flight attendant offered me a drink I gladly welcomed a rum and diet coke. Maybe it wasn’t so bad up here. Who doesn’t need this once in a while? People were asked to take their respective seats, the engine started, the plane moved towards the runway, and then the pilot got on the intercom and sadly stated that airport in Atlanta was shut down for at least an hour. The flight attendant sadly pointed out that there was no movie for flights of less than 3 hours. I pulled Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim out of my bag and continued reading. I gladly took a second and later a third rum and diet coke. Sitting in the first row I was able to put my legs up with my feet flat to wall in front of me and celebrated the leg room in the first row. I don’t know about heaven, but I can’t remember a happier moment in my life. While we waited the flight attendant proved to be very flirtatious and attentive, by my fifth drink I was gearing up to ask her to join me in the bathroom…

Into the second hour on the runway, waiting to take off, I was handed a very nice cobb salad. In first class, apparently you still get to eat meals. Who knew? Hungry as a mother fucker I gobbled it down in 5 minutes. Momentarily, I looked back and pitied the poor slobs in coach. How can people live like that? I began chatting up the attendant and pointed that within the last month I had (1) graduated with an MBA (2) had a birthday and (3) was beginning a new job. As a token of congratulations she handed me a small bottle of champagne. I thanked her profusely.

We finally got off the ground and touched down in Atlanta around midnight. As we were landing the flight attendant asked everyone whose final destination was Atlanta to stay in their seats to give the people connecting to somewhere else a fight chance to make their flights. I assumed these instructions were primarily for everyone in the main cabin not for the Brahmans in first class. I calmly collected my things and promptly stepped to the exit door. I was the first person out the door and made sure to step briskly to avoid the manic onrush of plebeians behind me.