Eating up front

I had just a little bit of a miracle happen last night. I got moved on up to first class with my whole family for the first time ever and for no good reason. I didn’t even have a skirt on. They whispered something about it when I was checking in, but you know I don’t always hear things right. The man could have easily said “you may have no class”, but I’ll tell you what, we got upstairs and I was sure I heard my name being called. It took quite a bit to maintain my composure, to sweep over to the desk with my unshowered self and not so clean jeans and say, “I am Faye Hess”. Instead of I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU.
In case you have never flown first class on Alitalia, and you were wondering it if the food was any better than the poor excuse for pasta that they serve in coach, no it is not. There are real plates, napkins and forks, more space, fewer neighbors, but the food is the same. It isn’t fresher, it isn’t better and there isn’t more of it. I want to say that they should be ashamed, but I was so entirely happy making my seat go all the way up and and then all the way back and picking out prifotteroles (rubber) from the dessert tray that it was no bother not to actually eat.
We came home and made a mix of all the dry cereals that were left in the cabinet and went to bed.

Leave a Reply