“Hey Bro. I got you the “package” as requested. No no… no need to pay me anything and you won’t have to pay for the seat. You can thank me some time in the future.” This was followed by a bro-fist pump and flurry of thank yous.
Next it was the sob stories. “My back hurts in the regular seats. My xyz disorder acts up when I get to close to people. Dear sir/madam, I’ve been travelling all day and need a break.”
All of these people were looking to get one of the 4-upgrades to First Class on my TransAtlantic flight. All were 50k status (according to their luggage tags). I made the mistake of listening to the concierge when they said I was at the top of the list; but, I neglected to factor in the effectiveness of the Toronto super-whine.
As such, what should have been a quick and easy flight across the Atlantic to Germany wasn’t. I was downgraded to a back corner seat that didn’t move and was sitting next to a man who smelled like rotting cabbage. 100k means nothing when you fly through Toronto.
It matters naught in the long run. I slept through the entire flight. The objective was to do a 10-hour fast to avoid jet lag… and eat a regularly timed meal at the destination. This is a trick that the military and sports teams often use on long West to East flights. I popped a couple of melatonin, swallowed my h-anger, and woke up as we were landing. For the entire landing I pondered the Charlie-Gibbs Fracture Zone.
Customs was easy; I’m passing through Germany and can understand multiple European languages. Border patrol in Germany is incredibly respectful and patient… almost soothing.
There was a glitch after security where my phone refused to boot. It showed me the dead Android icon and would not recover. It’s the x-ray machines in Europe. I’ve lost many phones to airport x-ray machines.
But, my phone wouldn’t enter the device graveyard just yet. At some point during the mess of walking sidewalks, elevators, gates, and shiny electronic stores it recovered. This was a huge relief. I really like this phone.
And, where my airline failed, Lufthansa did not. Quickly after finding the appropriate terminal, I was in the Lufthansa lounge having a shower, drinking GOOD espresso, and enjoying nom-noms. Lufthansa knows how to treat a girl.