Married to the first five rows

1 Feb

In the past few years I’ve felt this strong relationship with sitting in the front of the plane. The reason: pure, selfish impatience. But hey, why not? Sitting on a plane surrounded by a bunch of strangers, screaming infants, incompetent baggage handlers, phony flight attendants, my number one goal is to get on and off this puppy as soon as humanly possible.

Booking a flight these days and scoring a good seat is all about strategy. Firstly, always select a seat upon purchase, even if the options are slim pickens. This guarantees that if they oversell the flight you actually get on it. Many seats are held for Elite members and are released 24 hours before when you can check-in online. Take this as your opportune chance to get a better (hence, closer) seat. You’ll also likely stand a chance of surrounding yourself with the so-called Elite who can at times prove to be good company in terms of flying etiquette.

Unfortunately, this time around I find myself sitting on an over sold flight in row 27 of a 29 row plane. I’m hugging the window upon realization that another drawback of sitting in the back of the plane – aside from the bathrooms – is the shake, rattle, and roll of the tail end. Note: not recommended for nervous flyers. I bop around and intensely read the contents of my in-flight magazine, intent on trying to avoid listening to the woman sitting behind me from Alaska sing bible songs to her daughter while my over-sized neighbor snores ignorantly to my left.

I was in constant fear yesterday as the clock ticked 5:45 and I was nowhere near a computer. This was the exact time of lift-off for today’s flight and hence, my current situation is as stated.

Admiring my 62,000 miles late yesterday evening it abruptly came to my attention that upon the turn of the new year I lost all of my Elite miles! And I was so close. Alas, maybe this year will be the year. I can stop strategizing on how to make my way to permanent Eliteness and start earning bragging rights to all my friends. They frankly do not care. Oh, the woes of a frequent flyer.

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