This one's for you, Kai!

Followers of this  blog will recall the occasional louder-than-normal sigh of exasperation emanated by my buddy Kai when I post something resembling treason: Complaining about one aspect or the other in First or Business Class. Kai threatened unspeakable consequences should I ever again have the gall to say something negative about sitting up front.

Oh, how right he was and is: Indeed, it is rough to lead the life of a commoner after bedding with royalty.

And so it was with great trepidation and dark premonitions that I boarded the MD-80 from DFW to Denver yesterday, clutching a boarding pass with the ominous number-letter sequence 26E imprinted on it. Yes, that's the back of the bus. And not only that, it is the middle seat, in this case squeezed between a mother and her 4-month-old and a rather "drall" young thing on the window side, flowing into my assigned real estate. At least I had the forethought to take a quick pee before reaching my seat to relieve the two-Sam-Adams pressure acquired in the cushy Admiral's Club just minutes earlier. I intimately held my Time magazine and Panasonic Toughbook close to my chest, knowing that no power-port would be available. The chick took over the remainder of  my armrest, while little Mr. Man demonstrated his future ability as a drummer or soccer star by letting his little legs fly with abandon.

Kettle vs. Business Class

Yes, I sat among the Kettles, the oft-derided sub-class of airplane flier who makes up the bulk of the load. I tried to ignore the ignominy, while trying to think slim and not let my elbows touch humanity. The fact that the short two-hour flight was not catered with sandwiches but that rather my free snack consisted of only a few crackers and a cryogenic cheese blob was only slightly ameliorated by the two free plastic bottles of cheap Chilean Cabernet. Life is so cruel, and I know old Kai is turning religious right this minute just because he feels the need to thank the universe that I finally found my comeuppance.

Mercifully, the captain put the foot on the pedal and the two hours were reduced to only 1:30 hours. I don't know whether I could have lasted much longer, back there in steerage hell.

Or could I? Oh well, I almost forgot to tell that this purgatory was self-imposed, decided on in a split second when the gate agent in DFW had asked for volunteers with flexible travel plans to consider taking a later flight in exchange for a $500 flight voucher. Giving up my seat up front (the upgrade had been confirmed at the 100-hour mark) was a no-brainer as this money represents half a flight to Europe—and I was delayed by just about an hour, if at all. See, Kai, hell can be pretty damn sweet, after all! And my flight back from Denver on Monday has already been upgraded, so I'll make up for  lost ground.

Tune back in tomorrow or Sunday for an update from Crankworx, out here in beautiful Winter Park, Colorado. And stay away from the Kettles, if you can. But if they offer you $500, associate to a minimal degree!

Jürgen