Thank You, Mr. Wolf

Jules: “You sendin' the Wolf?”
Marsellus: “Oh, you feel better, motherfucker?”
Jules: [ relieved ] “Well, shit, negro, that's all you had to say.”


The Wolf came to the rescue for me -- and in a much needed way. And in this case, “the Wolf” was an upgrade to first class from Denver to St. Louis that the nice United ticket agent provided me in St. Louis.

I am a long-standing coach man who clearly don’t belong in first class. I keep inspecting the seat in order to make sense of the various buttons and compartments (oh, that’s where the tray is!). It’s patently clear I don’t belong and in the back of my mind, I worry that someone will come to me say that there’s been a mistake and ask me to sit between some guy who won’t stop making conversation about NASCAR and another guy who has problem flatulence.

My worries are never realized as I somehow remain in first class. Fantastic. I had always heard stories and seen -- from afar -- how the people live their first class lives. And now I was going to experience it for myself. I’m finally one of the special people!

I soon discover that first class is much different than coach. There are free drinks (thank you baby Jesus) and actual food. I call it food, but it's really nothing more than your basic cheese plate: Swiss and Camembert cheeses, crackers, mango and red grapes. Now I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, but honestly, who would choose to eat this stuff on a plane if they could? How about a turkey sandwich or some sushi instead?

They also provide cloth napkins and utensils in first class: two forks, a spoon, and a plastic knife. Now let’s think about that. Why do I need two forks? Is there an entrée and a salad being served? Or am I supposed to use one fork for the mango and another one for the grapes? I always forget which identical fork is used for which fruit. And why do I need a spoon? I can mix my vodka drink just fine by using my spare fork, thank you very much.

The presence of the plastic knife, although practical, was the most perplexing. I understand there’s some cause for concern about providing inebriated, first class passengers with a knife, but is it really that great a risk? I could just as easily kill someone with either of the forks they provided me. Plus anyone that reads this blog knows that plastic knives really aren’t all that safe.

I’m so comfortable, not even the 10 minutes of rocky turbulence bothers me. In fact, there’s only a few slightly negative thing that I can say about the flight.

One of them is the flight attendant. Specifically, there are two things bother me. First, my flight attendant is a guy and not some Scarlett Johannson look-alike who’s easily charmed by guys with rugby scars.

The second is that “Russell” hovers over you like a fucking buzzard over a dead carcass. Jesus, can’t a guy eat a cheese plate in peace? I feel like I’m in one of those popular restaurant where the wait staff is pressuring you to finish your dessert as quickly as possible so that they can move on to their next 20% gratuity.

I also notice that the other people in first class have a distinct attitude. I notice them glancing up disapprovingly as the coach passengers board, while they are already enjoying the comfort of their extra-wide, super-adjustable chairs. My level of self-consciousness rises every time I say “thank you” to Russell when he supplies me with more vodka. I don't see anyone else in first class saying thank you for anything.

Instead, they sit silently, with their smug sense of entitlement and elitism. You can almost hear them thinking, “Hey pal, you can’t use our bathroom. You’re sitting in coach!” They acquire this sense of privilege by virtue of the fact that they spent three times as much on their ticket as the person sitting 2 rows behind them, by why would anyone do that? Is it for the mostly stainless steel cutlery and a cheese plate? I’d rather keep the $900 and sit in coach (provided, however, I don’t have to sit next to Bigfoot again).

But those are minor complaints. All in all, this flight was very enjoyable. You know, I could get used to this first class thing. And despite my 12-hour travel ordeal today, I still got me home before 5:00, only 4 hours after my earlier scheduled arrival. Not bad, although it was hell getting here. And to think, I get to do this again next week when I fly to St. Louis.

The only question I have now is whether Russell will give me a road beer or not.