Traveling business

This was my first time that I had the privilege to travel business class and experience what it feels like to switch places with the over confident, snobby folks up front, who get to stretch out and have their dinner served on a white tablecloth.

Our stewardess greeted us with a wide Colgate smile, then frowned at her co-hostess seemingly wondering what these two unimportant kids are doing at this section. One of them did a double take on the ticket in her surprise and with a pissy attitude showed us to seats 2A and 2B ... obviously, she did not realize what important figures we were in the world today and she incorrectly placed us to the "justupradedsuckerswithoutapenny " category (well, almost correct, but I still want a bit of recognition now that I travel business!)

I nestled into my blue leather seat of Czech Airlines and covered myself with a red blanket (the one that I later on packed up into my bag as an accessory for Summer concerts in Central Park. Geoff was a bit hesitant to acquire this piece of finely woven polyester, but I assured him that we are not doing anything illegal, just living it up to the old Communist regime and we paid for it anywayinaway, so we deserve it! He doubtfuly still stuffed the red rug into the carry on and I satisfactorily concluded that my persuading techniques are working as good as ever) and pitifully looked at the economy class passerby’s as they were making their way towards their match boxes just to be stuck in between two seats and getting crams in their legs and the scariest of all - being exposed to the ECONOMY class syndrome - something that will never get!

IIIIIIIIIII, get to experience the luxury of stretching out my limbs as I wish, being greeted by an unidentifiable flower stem in a bathroom and eat like kings do (I mean those in Guliver's land judging by the 2.54 centimeter wide circles with half of a baby tomato on the top of the sandwiches served as appetizers).


Besides the extra leg space the other positive attribute of business class is the food - at least that's what I thought. The English menu tossed to me by the not-so-friendly stewardess said "Chicken Singapore noodles with chicken" (if anyone still wonders - it was a chicken dish with chicken in it). While pointing out the thorough description of the dish on the menu I hear the OldGuyinfrontofusobviouslyNOttheUpgradedcategory inquire curiously about the noodles ....

"What are thos Chicken Singapore noodles with chicken like?"

(The steuwie melts with kindness and puts on a celebrity photo smile)
"Which one?”
”AAhhh ohhhh ihhhh the noodles?”
”Well, they’re like Chinese" ...

I think I know ("Know" being the operative term) what she meant, but imagine describing "French Onion Soup" as .... "Well, it's like German". No Frenchman would tolerate that!

Then came breakfast! Geoff is anal (The anal stage in psychology is the term used by Sigmund Freud to describe the development during the second year of life, in which a child's pleasure and conflict centers are in the anal area. This stage is exemplified by the toddler's pleasure in controlling his or her bowels. ... not my definition, but from Wikipedia) about his milk ...
He will NOT poor whole milk down his throat, only the colorless and flavorless 1% or fat free kind!

So, here comes the pissed off stewardess and asks Geoff what he'd like for breakfast and he decides on cereal ... Mind you, it's God knows what time in the morning and all three of us - Geoff, myself and the steuwie are still in a state of "IwishIwasinMycomfortableBed" ... we both wish we were in Prague already and not on the wings of an airplane, while she just wishes that we were at least some celebrities of sort or someone with a social status or something / someone more exciting than our two creased faces ...

So, Geoff following his Freudian inclinations asks ..
"What type of milk do you have?"

(You've never seen anyone dumbfounded until you saw this woman's mouth drop open .. eyes go wide .. she's obviously not understanding the question .. but her English was so good thus far ... )

“What do you mean?"
(puts her hands on her childbearing hips that professionaly glide between the rows of seats ...)

"CaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaOO
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWSSS????????????????!!!!!!!!!!”

(Question mark, question mark, question mark

exclamation, exclamation, exclamation, exclamation!!! ... )

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"Ok! I'll have that one!"

Geoff looks at me with his Pocahontas stretched morning eyes not having strength to explain what he meant to the gal …

I burst out laughing at the thought of what she may be thinking ...
(“TheseSonandDaughterofNoone kids really came from the booniees .. Do they think will serve them goat milk?!”)

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And she is back with a bowl full of COWS milk trying to balance the bowl in her hands so that it won't spill over her uniform and we are a bit concerned also as she places the thing on Geoff’s lap ... (Geoff has recurring nightmares from a previous experience from years ago when a waiter spilled a glass of ice water in his crotch!)

“Here it is! A bowl of COWS milk and your box of cornflakes!" ... somewhat an unusual way of serving breakfast, but we manage ... we float the cereal in the bowl and start a match (we are competitive that way!) chasing cornflakes around the ceramic white dish with a spoon ... getting points for a dunken cornflake ... two strikes and you're out! ...

My darling gets frustrated and is fed up with the business class experience and let's admit, he is loosing the game ... he decides to take the fate of the cereal to his own hands (pardon me, mouth ... ) He pours down the content of the mini box into his pre-digestive cavity on the opposite side from the Freudian theory, picks up the bowl, drinks the left over Cows milk and yoouuuheeey we're such an outoftheboxthinkers! ... Had breakfast, stretched, and I now
can put it on my resume: ”I traveled business!”