When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one person to dissolve the mileage bands which have connected him with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Mileage and of Status Gods entitle him, a decent respect to the opinions of Flyertalk requires that he should declare the causes which impel him to the separation.

And that has been the story of my life this year, the year in which most of my Alaska Airlines’ international partners have gone by the wayside. Delta Platinum, here I come, once the points from the current trip post. I’m so excited, I just can’t hide it.

And as much as I wish I had flown an airline that would permit me to take the pictures of the caviar with the 5 various accoutrements or some fancy soup in a bowl which you’ve seen a thousand times over, I did not. Also lacking from the trip was a luxury sleeper suit, as well as a plush doo vay and a cornucopia of pillows.

But as 99% of my lifetime travel expenses have come from my own pocket, I can’t be too proud. While I may wish to fly on the luxury airlines such as American or United, when they’re charging a couple of grand more for similar on my preferred dates of travel, Aeromexico it is. If you can give me a lie flat seat for 9 hours of my journey and deliver me in less than two pieces, that’s all I ask. Ok, not all, but I get martyrdom and you get a trip report.

This trip has the added excitement of a segment on Southwest from OAK to LAX, as the good AM fare was LAX/EZE. The OAK/LAX flight was what one might expect - a trip to the Escape Lounge @ OAK which was so crowded in the late afternoon that there was barely a seat. People were eating and drinking standing up. To add to the ambience, the (temporary) Oakland Raiders were off to play in London and a Norwegian flight to LGW was to depart soon. And so, the airport was full of traveling public in their gang attire. (I did not say that. I meant to say “fine fan support couture.” But for some reason, the backspace isn’t working.)

When the time came to board, I stood humbly in my A32 slot. Nonetheless, there were two people in front of me in the A31-35 slot. I said nothing. I understand that some people are just more important than me, no matter what their boarding position. And then I boarded, sat in an aisle seat, and then the “flow control into LAX” announcement came from la cabina. We were to sit for quite some time until release time. I had a plastic cup of water with ice, and took my pretzels to go. Not much more to say about this flight. My luggage didn’t take an unreasonable amount of time to get to the carousel, and then I walked one terminal over to the DL/AM Terminal 2, where I am not only Sky Priority, but a premium cabin traveler.

After an efficient check in (which did require a weighing of my cabin baggage, and pulling the old AM Cabin Baggage tag and replacing it with a fresh one), I was off to the DL Skyclub after a quick precheck security line. The friendly check-in agent told me to be at the gate 1 hour prior to departure, and wrote the time on the BP. After quite a while in the DL lounge (where the food was not particularly appealing, including some chicken bits that were spit-out worthy, as if they were frozen and thawed several times over), I departed to visit the gate. At T-60, I, as well as many others, lined up by the various posts. As a premium Sky Priority traveler, I stood near the “MSDS” sign. The gate agents made many announcements regarding the full flight, and if you don’t need your bags, we’ll check them. Many announcements. No announcements regarding boarding. The crew finally came, but did not board. The gate agent was not particularly friendly when telling us to get out of the Zone 1 / Sky Priority line, because the line is for people who want to gate check their carry on baggage. It makes you wonder what substances people take on the way to work, or what orifice they’re speaking from when “rules” like this spontaneously occur, especially when it is barely over a half hour before scheduled departure time.

We all moved about a foot to the left. Our left, not her left. Her orifice ceased its utterances. I then see what appears to be a couple of guys being escorted onboard by someone without a uniform, but with a badge. My sense was that Project Whitening Of The United States was in play.

And speaking of other pre-departure unpleasantries. While I was standing in the Zone 1 line, all of a sudden something forcefully hit both of my calves. Startling me, but not knocking me over, I turned around to see a woman walking away, who left her overweight unbalanced bag to fall on me. I uttered a fairly loud “excuse me” at which point she made it seem like I did something wrong, and a couple others looked at me like I was the crazy one. A pleasant couple replaced her in line, and we chatted while we waited and waited to board. Finally, at scheduled departure time, boarding commenced. They had placed a bag sizer right near the boarding door and were asking some people to use them, notwithstanding the prior approval and tagging of the bags at check-in. After a choice of juice or water, we were off to MEX. The crew was “pleasant enough” and the food choices were the same as I’ve been offered several times over on the SFO/MEX red-eye. Lox with stale bagel, or warm ham y cheese croissant. For a change, I had the croissant. It wasn’t awful. It didn’t look that pleasing, as the croissant had a matzo-like fluffiness, probably acquired when the top half of the sandwich slid from the bottom half and getting smashed at some point between the catering kitchen and my tray table. That delight, a couple of glasses of wine, and I was set. The flight is really too short for much of a snooze. Finally having landed @ MEX, where the map showed a ground temperature of 152F, I was expecting imminent death. This did not occur, as the screen was apparently mistaken.

MEX connections aren’t “the best,” but I’ve made them a “glass half full” (or “at least I’ve got a glass”) situation. Everyone must go through immigration, and security. At least on the southbound flights, you don’t need to wait for your luggage anymore. I now ask to use the kiosks instead of waiting for an officer, and this saves some time. I then go to the American Express lounge, where I get my complimentary 15 minute massage, followed by a shower. At some point (usually prior to the massage/shower), I have the complimentary Platinum breakfast option. (No buffay here - it is all order from menu, and pay accordingly.) I then went to the AM lounge to hydrate. I can get bottles of water and drink them without having to order a glass at a time, and I’ll hear flight announcements. And then came the time to go to the gate. So, I went to the gate. And eventually, I got on the plane. No barking from the agent to the Zone 1 line. In fact, she boarded us before making any announcement. Upon boarding, I remembered why I was willing to take this routing and this airline. The 787-9 seat is really good. And it would be my home for many hours to come. The crew seemed pleasant (and overall, the crew was good). More water or juice. No bubbles on this flight pre-departure. Amenity kits (what, no pen inside?) and menus arrived. As I perused the menu, I noted that Chef Enrique Olvera’s name is no longer associated with the gor may delights of Aeromexico. How could that be? Did he finally fly the airline and eat “his” food, aghast at the diminution of his name’s value? Perhaps the challenge of having to create a luxury meal for seventy-nine cents became too stressful? While I may never know the answer to these and many other questions, my excitement became self-evident as I pondered my menu choices. You see, AM serves a one tray breakfasty thing after departure, and then a multi-course dinner pre-arrival.

For breakfasty thing, I chose the sandwich instead of the tamale, as I figured the MEX/LAX flight on my return will have the exact same two options (as is usually the case). The sandwich was ... how best to describe it. Have you ever been to London, left the bar or pub, not really all that inebriated, but still need to eat something when you get back to your hotel room? You then see a chain quickiemart, and you enter and visit the refrigerator case with those pre-made sandwiches wrapped in plastic. You then buy one, and while it doesn’t have much flavo(u)r, it doesn’t kill you either. My AM breakfasty thing was substantially similar. A cold sandwich with rubbery bacon and something else, along with a bowl of fruit and what else ... (I just went to look at the picture you don’t get to see) ... pickled chiles and 2 little wrapped chocolate bits. I had a glass of a decent French white wine, and then a glass of red wine, as I watched Amy Schumer get a bump on her keppy and suddenly she thought she was beautiful, on the screen in front of me.

Then the flight dragged on and on. I probably dozed for a bit. I visited the mid-cabin snack/bar setup and had a nip of Champagne. I saw the packaged cookies, and for the life of me, remain amazed that any airline would serve things that say “Sabor Cajeta” on a flight to or from Argentina. For those impaired on the local definition, here you go: “Parte externa del aparato genital de la mujer.” The bar area also had little water bottles, as well as little croissant ham/cheese, maní, and some fruit. It also had a chancha sucia that grabbed one of the little sandwiches, ate it over the remaining sandwiches dropping crumbs from her mouth, and then grabbed another couple of them to return to her Row 1 seat.

And then, after looking at that screen on and off for hours, with the arrival time adjusting forward and back a few minutes, back and forth, I heard the carts prepare for service. Here you come again, just when I’ve begun to get myself together ... and before I knew it, the cart arrived at Row 3, just two short rows behind la chancha sucia. The first course has never changed, for years. 2 pieces of cheese accompanied by some puffy crackers not suitable for cheese placement. I heard that French white wine calling. I had some. I ate part of the cheese. The remainder likely went to Incinerators Ezeiza. Shortly thereafter, the next cart came. This cart contained the Piece de There Should Be A Resistance. For the first time that I can recall, I chose the vegetarian option, as the other two options were Chicken So Dry, and Short Rib Stuck In Teeth Until Tomorrow. How do I know this? Experience, despite slightly different menu descriptions. My plate contained (1) a salad with some nearly raw little round bitter eggplant, (2) a plate of cold asparagus limper than (redacted in advance), (3) a plate of penne pasta that Chef Boyardee would have been to embarrassed to let out one of his cans, (4) a pat of packaged butter, and (5) a separately served hard roll. As this was dinner, and I’d be getting home-ish too late to go out to eat, I ate most of the pasta, washed down with some red wine. The red wine also went well with the chocolate dessert with a dollup of jam - probably called some sort of koolee or something.

Nevertheless, a pleasant crew, a pleasant seat, and a pretty-much on time landing ... until... there’s no gate available. About 20 minutes later, we taxied to the gate. After a rapid dart to the immigration hall ... to find it stuffed to the end of the room. All in all, about 2 hours from landing to luggage. The luggage was already off the belt.

My dear friends. Millions dream of travel as luxurious as I’ve just experienced. Pangs of jealousy of those in front of the curtain. But you, the jaded Flyertalk reader... always expecting a caviar picture, bubbling Kroog or Paul Roh Jay.

Ok, fine. You win. You get a picture of my dinner leftovers.



I ate the Southwest pretzels after arriving to my apartment.