We arrived in Los Angelos with several hours to kill before
Singapore Air opened up shop for check-in. I got some wacky Korean noodle soup thing and some knock-off version of a frappucino. Oh, breakfast. I also called mom from a different time zone, one of the last ones where I was calling from the past instead of the future. Rose Mary and I then spent the remaining time pre-check-in trying to get our work laptops operating.
Several hours of fiddling around in LAX International,
Singapore Air opened up for business. This is where I found out that we were flying the rest of the way from L.A. to Chennai via business class. And, wowza!
I’ve never, ever flown business class before, so excuse me
for a second while I go into finite detail.
Business-class gets their own check-in line so we didn’t have to mix with the little people. We were then immediately carted off in a little white bus to a big, plush tent somewhere on the tarmac to await our
flight. This place was fancy! Black leather armchairs, white table cloths,
individual side tables and personal low-light lamps. Everyone was wearing their best little business-class outfit. Food and drinks (alcoholic and non-) are completely
complimentary, so you can just munch and munch until the cows come home and
then munch some more because you ain’t no farmer. Since it was breakfast time, there were croissants, Danishes, cereals with milk - the usual. Since we were all international people of the world, there were also various types of ramon noodles and sushi. Of course, there was free wi-fi, but there were also a row of computer desks that you can hang out in to do a bit of internet surfing. Everyone managed their voice in respectfully hushed business-class tones, conducting business over cellphones and clinking drinks. No crying babies or whiney kids throwing temper tantrums. Throughout, soft music plays in the background. You can just kick back on one of the leather couches, read a complimentary newspaper or magazine, and await the lady coming by ringing a bell to announce it is time for you to depart for your flight. Then a bus picks you up from the business-class
tent and drops you off briefly amongst the common folk, before, once again, you are the first people let onto the airplane.
And the good times had just begun.
From LA to Singapore, we flew a Boeing 747 double-decker. I was on the top floor with a window seat. And what a seat! And how to describe it? Spacious, comfortable, completely customizable. A silk pillow with a blanket was resting on the seat, awaiting my arrival. Next to my seat was my own hamper-type thing to store my travel gear out of the way as I needed it over the next 20 hour flight. It took me almost the full flight to figure out how exactly the seat and the in-flight entertainment thing worked exactly. The seats can go allllll
the way back, so that you are practically horizontal, if that is your
desire. But they are constructed in such a way as to provide almost no visible impact to the people behind you. I also had my own personal LCD screen. I could just plug in my headphones to the seat armrest, drag out the remote and watch a bevy of free movies from all over the world. Or I could listen to a large selection of music, which I never bothered with. Or watch a live simulation of your plane’s progress (with outside weather, remaining time to destination, etc, etc). Or I could turn the remote into a game controller and play Mario Brothers. Whatever catches one's fancy. I watched a bunch of movies that I wouldn’t want to pay for but still had an inclination to see (The Number 23, comes to mind, which, thank goodness I did not pay for. The rest were a blur of fluffy romantic comedies.)
Time becomes a ridiculous unit of measurement as you fly
through multiple time zones and international date lines, chasing the sun around the globe. I slept when I wished and I did wish so often.
Little Singapore Girls came around, offering “Vitamin C” in
a glass, carts of complimentary reading material, packaged sleeping masks,
slippers, and regular courses of meals. They would always wake me up to be fed. I had all-vegetarian meals, of course, which translated to a mix of bird feed and Indian food.
All-in-all, I’ve never had a more pleasurable flight on a plane before. If you ignore the severely dry nostrils and swollen feet.
After a very brief layover in Tokyo
(again with the separate business-class waiting room with posh bathrooms,
complimentary food, and entertaining beer dispensing vending machines), we
found ourselves at the Ritz Carlton in Singapore.
I could get used to this.
