Recently we spent eight days in Costa Rica. I learned a very important thing on this trip, that I have somehow blocked out or just plain disregarded on all our other family trips that have involved airplanes…
My husband is an airplane snob.
The hubs travels a lot for work and as a result he is like a rockstar platinum guru on Delta, meaning he looks down on all the rest of the peons while traveling. He is use to all the fancy perks of traveling when you reach the top echelons. You know, first class upgrades, priority boarding, free checked bags, priority bag retrieval, and all the other perks of being a Delta flying god.
Well he was shit out of luck on this last trip because we flew United, not his beloved airline where they greet him at check in with a wink and a nudge. Nope we were cattle call fourth class citizens on United.
Oh how he didn’t handle it well.
Upon checking in to United, in the economy line not the priority line, we learned that our luggage was 50 lbs. and 52 lbs., meaning two dear pounds would have to go or we would be hit with a $200 surcharge. Hubs threw a bit of a shit fit and said, “Just pay the damn fee.” Are you fucking kidding me? Hell no we are not paying a $200 fee for two lbs. Out came the extra weight quicker than you can say complimentary breakfast. I stuffed the superfluous clothing into our carry ons, and checked our luggage at $40 per bag – much to his annoyance. In La La Land Platinum Delta world bags are free, and there is no issue if your bag weighs more than the allotted 50 lbs. Apparently size only matters on United.
The sighs began in short succession from here on out.
Next up was the security line. He has some sort of preapproved TSA thing where he can cruise through the security line. It involved being interviewed by the FBI and having to pay an exorbitant price, that his company graciously covered. Well, when he travels with us he is designated to the lame old line where all the other peasants stand, and he wasn’t happy. Poor guy even had to take off his shoes.
Upon arrival at the gate he learned we were not able to board until Group 4 – the second to last group. This was met with utter annoyance. Yes, the simple folk have to wait until their group is called and watch all the other privileged people board before them. Yes, those lucky pre boarders are most likely situated in their chairs with their bags stowed overhead in the abundance of cargo space that was still available. I know he doesn’t realize this is the way the world works, what with him being a first class passenger who at the very least enjoys priority boarding just after the person in the wheelchair, but before the military. The sighs were loud, the clenched jaw spoke volumes, and because I’m an asshole I pointed out all the people boarding before us every time he looked my way.
“Oh LOOK! That business guy is totally getting on in the priority line!”
“Wow! Is that lady elite class or something cause she sure does get to bring on a bunch of carry ons! I bet there will be PLENTY of overhead storage space for her!”
Hey, someone was gonna have fun in this situation, and clearly it wasn’t him.
We took our seat way in the back of the plane, just a few rows ahead of the shitters, because there was no premium seating for us lower tier travelers. Hubs got the row with the two kids, and positioned himself in the aisle seat. I enjoyed the aisle seat just across from him with two strangers next to me. I could tell he was annoyed, but he kept his mouth shut. The reality of four hours on a plane with our kids smack next to him and no where to stretch his long legs was looming large in his world. And then like an angel sent from above a Flight Attendant asked him if he was traveling alone, and if so there was a seat available in first class. The man had been handed the ultimate get out of jail card, and do you know what he did?
He said no.
I shit you not.
He declined the first class seat so he could suffer in misery with us in coach. The Attendant went on to give the seat to a pregnant passenger, who I’m sure enjoyed all the extra space and goodies while The Hubs sat stoically in coach with the seat in front of him reclined into his lap and his legs splayed out while our darling daughter repeatedly squirmed in her chair and pulled out her carry on luggage from beneath her seat three times over the next four hours.
Well played husband, well played. Your selfless act of passing on the First Class seat has assured you a place in the halls of Martyrdom for the forceable future, and an inability for me to mock you endlessly about your snobbish ways (except for this post of course).