flying home

We had the cheap seats on the way to Texas. Cramped seats, only beverages offered during the three hour flight, and an aging flight attendant whose big bottom swung from side to side as she walked up and down the aisle, hitting passengers on both sides. Going home we upgraded to first class. Totally worth it. As soon as we took our big comfortable seats, we started being catered to by a cute, efficient attendant. We were called by name, offered anything we wanted to drink, and were given a wine glass of hot mixed nuts. After the plane was solidly in the skies, a good dinner was served. About fifteen years ago, I flew first class for the first time, all the way to Las Vegas, compliments of my sweet brother. As I sipped my champagne cocktail from five miles in the air on that dark night, I thought I must be in heaven! Another time, on a flight back from Arizona, there was a call for a doctor or a nurse. Apparently a passenger needed medical attention, and for all I knew it could be a panic attack, so I rang my bell and quietly told the attendant that I was a nurse. She basically shushed me and said she would try not to get me involved. I always thought it was to protect my first class status. First class is more fun, a luxury to be appreciated in these times of torturous air travel, but however I got here, I am once again very grateful to be back home.