And I’m off!
The flight to Brazil doesn’t depart until late, which gave me plenty of time to putter around before heading to the airport (more on that, below.) The exit for LGA was a mess, but once we passed that it, it was smooth sailing to JFK. The Admirals Club (and Flagship Lounge) are currently under construction at JFK, and the agent there suggested I’d be better off at the club in the C Concourse. That club has two advantages over the temporary AC space: 1) there are a decent number of seats, and 2) there’s Campari. I didn’t know, however, that it closed around 9:30, so it was back to the main AC— which was right next to the departure gate— for the remaining time. It had, by that time, cleared out at least and the sole advantage there is that all drinks are free. (I suppose to make up for its general crumminess?) Also, no Campari.
Photographic evidence that I didn’t chicken out at the last minute and check the Itty Bitty Rimowa, but in fact wheeled it onto the plane with me (accompanied by a small Tom Bihn Shop Bag, into which I put the Packing Cube Shoulder Bag and a red Tall Yarn Stuff Sack, which had the slippers for the plane.
I feel extremely strongly about having slippers on a plane— I’m not kidding about not really being a minimalist!— and chastise friends and family who somehow think it’s appropriate to wander around a plane in socks. Yeeerggh. That’s not water on the lav floor, people! You want a HARD-SOLED SLIPPER for plane purposes.) Anyway. Having slippers— or in this case, Minnetonka moccasins— really does improve the traveling experience, and they are sturdy enough that you can wander off the plane in them as well and not look completely insane, although they are not really appropriate street shoes.
One of the motivations for picking Sao Paulo was that there is an AA direct flight on the 77W, which is one of the better business-class configurations in these parts. I managed to get seats in the forward mini-cabin on both legs. On the outbound I was very happy to have 3J, which is very private, and I think the sight-lines, or better said lack thereof, were better in 3J than in 3A or 3D. The small Tom Bihn bags fit easily into the side storage compartments, and the Rimowa took up a hilariously small amount of space in the bin above.
It probably will not shock most readers if I say that the in-flight service on AA is inconsistent and unpredictable. Sometimes very good, almost always at least professional, and then sometimes… While not the worst in-flight service I’ve had on an AA flight, this was definitely not AA’s finest crew. (And while the numbers I have at my disposal aren’t large enough to really extrapolate anything meaningful, I have had the lousiest service on the 77W in business class.) I very much got the impression that the crew serving my area would rather have been anywhere else, and dealing with things like meals and drinks was an irritating distraction from more important matters. I didn’t get a tablecloth, and none of the three FAs passing by before the meal service noticed anything amiss. They first tried to give me the wrong meal (but, hey! at least they remembered to give me a meal this time, unlike a previous trip where I had to ask them if I could please have food), and his gruff ‘I read the sheet wrong’ as he removed it did not suggest a strong commitment to good service. Drink orders came very late, and then not at all, and I definitely wasn’t getting any answers as to what wines there actually were (the actual wines on board versus those printed in the menu haven’t exactly matched up in recent flights, hence my attempts at asking.)
So in other words: just a bunch of very small, probably petty, small things, but enough small things to know that this was not going to be the best of flights, service-wise.
Since there had been so little service to the dinner service, eventually I wanted a nightcap. I got up at some point to use the lav, grabbed some water from the self-serve bar, but didn’t see anyone to ask about getting a whisky. (I was hoping that perhaps a small splash, a fingerful really, would be enough to help me sleep. Perhaps this is heresy, I don’t find the 77W seat to be all that comfortable, actually…) Unsuccessful, I went back to my seat, thinking I’d try getting up again soon. And then, the fasten seatbelt light came on.
I guess I forget that on AA, the ‘remain seated’ thing doesn’t really mean that (BA, for example, tends to be fairly serious on that front, but then again, the light is usually turned off pretty quickly.) And being a polite, strangely rule-abiding person, I stayed seated. And waited. And waited. And 45 minutes later, with no water and no drink, and I was getting mildly grumpy because I at least needed to hydrate before sleeping, and I did want to try to get some sleep.
So I did the unthinkable.
I rang the callbell. (Picture this statement in 48-point bright pink italicized Comic Sans for maximum effect. Wait. Comic Sans IS an option on Flyertalk. Whoohoo! No magenta, though. Comic Sans is best deployed in a tacky, and partially unreadable, color.)
Yes, yes, I know there are any number of threads about whether one ought to ring the bell, etc. etc. But, gentle reader, I did it. And another FA (not surly No-Giver-of-Tablecloths or No-Answerer-of-Questions-re-the-Wine) appeared. “YOU RANG THE BELL?” (Well, yes.) And I asked, politely, if I could please have a water and a very small (emphasis on the very small) Glenlivet.
The response was not, “Of course, madam” (or, I guess, “ma’am”? BA says madam? AA, ma’am?), but instead, HOW OLD ARE YOU? I was very confused, because I thought perhaps this was some banter, the likes of which I wasn’t expecting at this point from this particular AA crew. YOU WANT A WHISKY? (If you’re reading the all-caps like DEATH from a Terry Pratchett novel, then yes, you too have probably rung the callbell on AA.) HOW OLD ARE YOU? (Again.)
I was confused. Why would he be asking my age? I am 41 years old, so let’s just say the idea that perhaps there was a question as to the legality of my consuming a soothing, warming Glenlivet did not even cross my mind. I mean, I haven’t been under 21 in, well, 21 years. Given that I am 41, I look like what a 41 year-old looks like (natch). I’ve got some frankly saggy jowls in my Mobile Passport photo (there’s another digression about the wisdom of not looking too good in your passport photo, and then ANOTHER digression about how I apparently can’t get a decent angle to take a better picture for the Mobile Passport thingie, but that probably is another story.) And frankly I didn’t expect to have to mull the state of how well I might be aging (or not) from the confines of 3J on the way to Brazil. So I remained confused. And then I said, “I’m 41.” “YOU’RE 41?” “Yes?” “REALLY?” “Well, um, yes?” “YOU LOOK SO YOUNG.” If you say so? “HOW OLD DO YOU THINK I AM?” Oh, this is a trick question… either 23 or 60? He claimed to be 62. I would not have guessed that.
Also, even when I was under 21, I remember drinking on planes. This would have been in the 90s, and in the 90s there is no way I would have flown a US-carrier internationally, so I suppose that’s why the drinking age thing ever crossed my mind. I have fond memories of buying super cheap tickets on Virgin Atlantic ($200 all-in round trip!) and enjoying a gin and tonic, two glasses of wine, dinner, movies, and breakfast; it was cheaper than hanging out at college for the weekend, plus I got wine and gin which I could not (well, officially) gotten at college. Those were the days. I miss the 90s. Good times.
Anyway. I did eventually get a whisky, and a water. I’m not sure if the ‘fasten seatbelt/remain seated’ sign ever did get turned off.
Exfoliate and Moisturize! Or, a skincare digression:
I can attribute the events above either to a FA who desperately needed glasses or to my success in preflight ablutions. I’ve been playing around with various preflight skincare routines for quite a while, and apparently I have stumbled across the perfect combination. And, there is nothing about these products that a man cannot use (I thought about posting a separate thread over in the Women Travelers subform, but really, good skincare knows no gender boundaries.) So, herewith, the Pre-Flight Fountain of Youth:
Sunday Riley Ceramic Slip + Sunday Riley Good Genes (aka, the Sunday Riley Flash Facial): mix a couple of pumps of each, and wait 15 minutes. Both of these products are stupendous on their own. Stupid expensive? Well, they are not cheap but the value is there. And the rest of it is cheap(er) stuff, so there’s that satisfaction of mixing high and low.
That is to be followed by layers and layers of moisturizing products. I spritzed with Muji Light Toning Water, followed by Muji Essence, followed by The Ordinary Hyaluronic + B5 serum, topped by La Roche Posay’s Hydreane moisturizer. (I sometimes put a few drops of Sunday Riley Juno oil into the moisturizer, but I didn’t this time, as it occasionally makes me shiny. Since I was getting on a plane, I didn’t want to use any makeup at all, so didn’t want to worry about shine or grease.)
And another bonus tip:
the SKII Facial Essence Masks are fantastic for post-flight revivals. Not only do they make you look like a serial killer à Jason (only for the duration of the mask-wearing; a product that gave a serial killer visage would probably not sell so well), but they are the best for pepping up my skin after a flight. Plump like a baby seal, they make you. These masks are not cheap ($17 for a single in the US), but much cheaper than a proper facial (and without the hassle of going to a facial). The 10-pack is the best deal, particularly if there’s a sale at Sephora. Anyway, I used one in Sao Paulo— and had the fun of answering the door while wearing one when a very persistent maid wouldn’t take ‘do not disturb’ for an answer— and I am using one now to recover from the mostly-sleepless return flight.
The Trip Into Town
Leaving the plane, I ran into Mr. MY AGE-DAR IS SERIOUSLY MALFUNCTIONING, and we laughed about the whole thing. I briefly contemplated handing out one of the AAplause certs, but thought the better of it, although when am I ever going to use those things? (I should have given the whole bunch to the delightful crew on a trip to London earlier in the year.)
Immigration was incredibly fast and easy. Before heading into town, and suitably cowed by reports of Sampa’s terrible traffic, I stopped at the Suplicy cafe upstairs for a restorative coffee. (I passed on breakfast on the plane.) There’s free wifi in the terminal, and I was also pleased to see that Project Fi worked without any issues. Based on advice read here on FT, I decided to use an Uber to my hotel. I had to wait about 10 minutes for my car to arrive.
I don’t speak Portuguese but in anticipation of this trip, I tried learning a little bit using the Memrise app. I was definitely grateful that I tried to learn a little bit of Portuguese, although I have some questions about some of the vocabulary foregrounded on Memrise. Vocabulary such as “you are a genius” and “I like oranges” wasn’t terribly helpful, and I realized that I didn’t actually learn the phrases for “I don’t speak Portuguese” or “how much?”! (If I were ever to create my own language learning program, I think the first phrase I would make people master would be “Sorry. I am a foreigner, not an idiot. Please help!”) But, I think a little goes a long way in at least buying some degree of sympathy, and for the most part, people responded well to my poorly uttered “muito bem,” “obrigada,” and the like. I’m trying!
Michel— my absolutely delightful and charming Uber driver—didn’t speak English. Well, he had a few more English words than I have Portuguese, but that’s really not saying much. But, my early attempts at asking him in my broken Portuguese “are you from Sao Paulo?” and the like seemed to work. We ended up chatting, of a sorts, using Google Translate all the way from the airport to the hotel (it took about 70 minutes.) Of course, Michel typing on his phone while driving down the highway wasn’t maybe the most ideal driving circumstance, but on behalf of all Paulistas, he made a very good impression. And Uber was easy and seamless (not dealing with cash was great), and based on my good experience from the airport I mostly used Uber for my entire stay. But, stay tuned, as of course not all go so smoothly…
My biggest piece of advice, I think, for anyone thinking of going to Brazil would be to learn at least the basics of Portuguese and have Google Translate to hand. Part of the fun in traveling is meeting new people, and even that little bit of effort made my trip better.
Next up, the Hotel Unique.