The Baby Business

After 7 and a half hours we arrived in Abu Dhabi for a 2 hour stop off on our way to Sydney.

“Only 14 and a half hours of cramped leg room and sleeplessness to go until we get to the much needed sun” I said cynically to my partner.

After buying some ridiculously cheap tobacco and the standard Milka bar, we settled down in departures waiting for our flight.

“First, business class and passengers with children or wheelchairs are invited to board now” expressed the gate lady softly over the loudspeaker.

“Look at them, more money than sense, you wouldn't get me paying £4000 for a ticket” I said with disgust and a blatant jealously to my voice.

I looked at the business class passengers with their smug smiles and Louis Vuitton bags stride past thinking what it must be like to turn left on a plane, a thing most of us only dream of.

After 3 more calls for passengers, the lady announced. “Could a Mr Marchant please come to the counter.”

“Oh my god” I shouted in my mind. “What do they want from me? We are in Abu Dhabi, do you think that they found those magazines in my bag? Or maybe they know what is on my laptop?!” I said worryingly to my partner.

I anxiously went to the counter hoping the police were not there. “Mr Marchant?” the lady said pleasantly.

“Yes?”

“Are you travelling with anyone today?”

“Oh my god, this is it, we are busted, I'm going to be in a middle eastern prison eating grual from the floor whilst my cellmate makes me do hidious tasks so I don't get picked on by the bigger boys and...” I thought

“Yes, Mr Staurt.” I said with a shaky voice.

Then the magic words came out of her mouth. Some of the most sweetest, pleasant and pant wetting words you can ever hear within an airport terminal.

“Mr Marchant.....you and Mr Staurt have been complimentary upgraded to business class”

If you could take snapshot of my reaction at this point you would have thought I had won the lottery. My smile was as wide as Tony Blair's and there were tears starting to build up in the corner of my eyes.

I rushed back to my partner. “We are one of them!"
I shout to my partner as he looked back at me confused.

"We've made it in life, we have been........ upgraded!”

We jumped up and strolled past the remaining passengers with a disgraceful smug look, thinking, that we were better than them. All my socialist principles and sneering towards business class passengers was gone out of the window and finally, we would know what it would be like to be one of the “better” people in life.

As we settled down on the plane getting used to the flat beds, with massage, whilst drinking champagne and ordering our 3 course dinner for after take off, a baby started to cry.

“I didn't think they allowed babies to cry in business class” I said to my partner with a new posher accent I had suddenly developed from the terminal to the plane.

Little did I know...they didn't allow this. “BING!,” went the noise to attract the attention of the flight attendant.

And, as if by magic, the attendant appeared. It was for the woman with the baby.

“Could you get my baby to sleep, I've had terribly long day and I'm awfully tired” She said casually.

“She's got a bloody cheek, he'll never do that!” I thought as I watched with a child like curiosity.

“Certainly Madam, not a problem” he said as if it was a reasonable request.

I watched as the flight attendant picked up the small boy and softly rocked him whilst he was playing with it's toys until he was finally asleep. The woman was sitting a mere metre away from him sipping a champagne flute.

“OK – I was wrong, they really do anything in here.” I whispered to my equally curious partner.

As we take off, I thought “Now I know what it is like.” And it really was everything I ever imagined and so much more.

The 14 and a half hour flight was magnificent, with 7 hours sleep and and abundance of food and free stuff, like sewing kits and a 'sleep suit', I felt I really was one of these people and I deserved all this pampering because I had earned it. They really do suck you in to thinking you are a cut above the commoners behind those curtains.

When we arrived in Sydney, we were let off the plane before anyone else, with the economy passengers looking on at you whist we all took our time knowing we were holding them up. I take one last look around the cabin and leave knowing that this would be the last time I would be in this part of the plane and knowing how hard it would be to go back to cattle class, knowing all the wonderful things that would be going on only a few feet away from me.

They say ignorance is bliss, and I fully agree it most definitely is.