There’s a significant difference . . .

. . . between Coach and First Class. I’m sure everybody knows it. I mean, beyond the obvious (the cost). Just the same, let me tell you about it . . .

In First Class, they warm your nuts.

And, get this; they serve them to you in a small hot white ceramic bowl.

Of course, that particular snack is worthless without a decent drink.

Yup! Whiskey on the rocks!

OK, OK, it’s actually ginger ale in the rocks or, more accurately, rocks on ginger ale.

For some reason, the lady who worked or section came to us first, and smiled, and would periodically check on us to see if we needed anything.

If I had to guess, it’s because we said thank you, and asked her how she was doing, and, in general, showed our genuine appreciation when she brought us stuff.

Anyway, the ticket said the price of the fare included a “snack”.

So, here’s what happened . . . The nice lady comes over and asks if we would be joining them for dinner.

That’s not a joke; that’s what she actually asked. I’m assuming they ask because it’s a late flight (meaning, it leaves on time but later in the day) and people may want to sleep.

At that point, we’d only been up 15 hours, so we opted for the meal.

The choices were a brisket or cheese-and-spinach ravioli. We opted for the ravioli. We did so with trepidation but it was pretty good.

Note the accompaniment, walnuts, dried fruit, honey, two types of cheese with crackers, and a piece of chocolate.

Note also the beverage glass . . . actual glass, not plastic. And a real nice napkin wrapped around a fork, spoon, and knife that security would have confiscated had I tried to snuggle then onboard.

The nice lady came around with an offer of either white or red wine but since I’m on an antibiotics regiment, I declined and asked for water, instead. Melisa tried a bit of the wine and it was good.

So, there we were, trying to eat, one hand securing the glasses, while trying to keep the tray from sliding off into our laps as the plane did its best impression of a bucking bronco.

. . . we managed . . .

The lady then brought out hot towels so I did a quick freshing up of my underarms. It was still most and warm when I was done but other passengers weren’t interested when I offered to share my still useful towel.

Shortly thereafter, the whole plane was asleep. Perhaps, my underarms are more powerful than I knew.

We failed at the whole sleeping thing. Not that we didn’t try, but it wasn’t meant to be.

As we neared our destination I was offered a hot blueberry and cranberry muffin and I also opted for a glass of orange juice. Melisa had a coffee and the lady apologized that it was in a paper cup but we would be landing in a bit and they don’t use actual cups within a certain time from the landing.

As far as I could tell, we were the only ones offered the muffins without asking for them. One other person asked her for one, and she threw a muffin at them. Yes, I kid about the last part.

All in all, a better experience than Coach . . . Except for the bathroom. I’m 5′ 8″, currently 171 lb. Sure, I work out and my broad shoulders can carry the weight of the world (and often, they do) but . . . dang!

Them toilets be small. I could hardly turn and I can’t imagine how some of the big guys in the plane would find it useful other than for getting a massage from the grab handles and other protrusions that we’re more a hindrance than functional or useful.

Overall, the flight was pleasant and went by relatively quickly.

I now leave you with a few flower shots . . .

These next flowers are from the yard of friends and have an unusual color giving them what I thought was a unique look.

I first thought the petals were dying, but no . . . that’s their actual color.

And with that, I’ll close this somewhat lengthy post.

Please imagine my usual disclaimers below this line.