ORDorBust

Here we go: a Singapore Airlines head to head comparison of SQ11 and SQ38, outbound from LAX on the A380 to SIN via NRT, and the nonstop A340 back to LA. My first stab at a trip report, therefore caveat emptor (then again, you ain’t buying anything so what’s the downside?). So let’s do this:

Word comes down: bidness in SIN and it is my turn. I check out the SQ website and pop for the standard J fare. I’m torn between going with the A345 nonstop both ways and the allure of flying the A380 big boy with a stop at NRT. I decide the split the difference, so I’m on SQ11 outbound with return on the all-biz A345. The best of both worlds, I suppose we’ll see.

Then it dawns on me: 15 hours in a plane? What was I thinking? Can’t we just Skype it out? Did I forget to bone up on the ol’ world map before saying yes. Quit the wuss already, you're rightly thinking; SQ J will be like a vacation all by itself. Besides, my doctor buddy owes me a fistful of xanax. I can munch those babies like peanut M&Ms, and rinse ‘em back with a choice beverage. As long as I don’t wake up with my underwear on backwards. Again.

This TR doesn’t officially begin until I’ve left the jurisdiction of US-based carriers, i.e my connecting flight to LAX on United. I’m not going to legitimize UAL by even mentioning the details of the flight, such as indifferent “service,” nasty unspeakables in the seatback pocket, getting gonged from my upgrade (“Newman!”), or mentioning them in the same report as the purported top dawg SQ.

Took a leisurely stroll over to the TBIT from Term 7, dodging raindrops in LA (?!). But I’m thankful I’m not on the interterminal shuttle: everyone knows that LA drivers can’t handle the slightest bit of moisture on the road. Next thing you know, they’re blasting away with handguns while sliding all over the road…Just kidding, Los Angelenos…I’m allowed to make fun since I used to live there and am a native Californian (who managed not to get shot on the 10, lo those many years ago).

What is it about international terminals and smoking? If anyone has any doubts that Phillip Morris (or Altria, or whatever harmless sounding moniker they’ve adopted) wasn’t going to hit their quarterly earnings mark, I’d encourage you to take a leisurely stroll past the TBIT. Brutal. I never thought I’d see it, but the ashtrays actually look WORN OUT from use. Maybe I’ve unknowingly unearthed the root cause of the pollution problem in the LA Basin. After five minutes of milling around outside, I’ve inhaled so much secondhand smoke, I feel cheated because I didn’t even get to have sex first.

SQ check in at LAX: I’m at the OK Corral. She stares at me. I stare at her. I feel her indifference. It is like a suit of armor, but I’m confused: did I accidentally queue up at the UAL counter? A quick upward glance confirms, yes, I’m in the SQ line. Then why she staring at me? Stop staring at me! Speak, woman, speak!

Afraid to break protocol in this day and age (I have no interest in visiting Gitmo, thank you very much), as a crescendo of anxiety begins to build, I try to casually look around and see if she’s looking at someone or thing behind me. Nope. There aren’t 10 people in all of the lines combined. OK, I think to myself, just casually saunter over. I arrive. She stares. After an awkwardly silent 5 seconds (I swear, I thought it was at least 10), she breaks the ice with a monotone inquisition: “Checking in?”

Not sure if I’m more relieved by the fact that a) I am in the right line, b) I get to check in or c) she’s not actually having a petit mal seizure right in front of me.

BP and lounge pass in hand, I get through security with the usual TSA-inflicted indignities: my pants are falling down, I suddenly don’t have my father’s watch on, and the obligatory “I’m going to put the back of my hand next to that special spot that only your wife normally gets access to.” Yes, I know: I asked for it because I refuse to walk through the so-called xray screening machine which makes me feel like a Cup o’ Noodles about to be microwaved.

An aside: I’m all for security and I love “America!” (say it like Eddie Murphy in Trading Places when he’s dressed up as the African Prince on the train). I also know that I am NOT a terrorist (now my 5 year old son…he’s definitely been guilty of a few acts of domestic terrorism….but I digress). So if I’m not a terrorist, why should I expose myself to one single extra photon of radiation energy? Sure, they say it is a “harmless” level of radiation exposure, “negligible” even. But how do they KNOW what “harmless” is? They can’t irradiate people with different low levels of radiation over years and years to see what happens (wait a tic…is that what’s going on at Gitmo?). Physicists still extrapolate the effects of radiation from Hiroshima! Besides, they only talk about radiation dose to your internal organs. What about your skin dose? Last time I checked, melanoma can occur because of sun (i.e. radiation) exposure to your skin. Therefore, every last little so-called “harmless” bit of radiation I can AVOID (especially if it is for a purely gratuitous and meaningless exercise in massive systemic inefficiency) is a good thing.

Now where was I? Ah yes, screening. So took the elevator up to the Star Alliance Lounge on the 5th floor (one floor above Sky Team lounge…symbolic?) The place was practically empty. Dead quiet. Almost creepy and unsettlingly quiet. I hunker down with the worldwide interweb and get some bidness done preflight. Truth is, there isn’t a lot to distract you in the lounge: the view is of a massive network of rusting I-beams, with glimpses of large planes in the background. Scenic? Hardly. But by the time I leave, the place is so insanely packed with people you’d have thought they were giving away free food…oh, wait a minute, …never mind.

I took a leisurely stroll down to the gate. Don’t get your hopes up, shopaholics, not much down here to stimulate the economy. In fact, as you get closer to the gate, the landscape gets decidedly anti-commercial. You can’t even see the plane from the waiting area. They made the call but hardly anyone was getting on the plane. Once again I ask myself: am I in the right place? I’m picturing Mel Gibson (before he went bat$hit) in “The Year of Living Dangerously” on the tarmac, stumbling out to the plane, bleeding.) I am expecting a morass of humanity all trying to squeeze through a couple of doors at the same moment in time. But no. Dead quiet. Weird.

I’m sitting in 11A on the A380. Upside: the very front, relatively private, upper deck. The bathroom that is right in front of me has a curtain pulled across it (and the chained off stairway) so there isn’t a lot of traffic. I don’t find it bothersome at all. The seat is fairly comfortable for sitting. It is very wide and the leather is “grippy” enough that you don’t feel like you’re sliding out. I’ve got plenty of room (I’m 5’ 9”) but if I were a cornfed Chicagoan, I might be using up more of the extra seat width (hey, relax Cubs fans- you know its true! Oh, and I’ll take a pass on that mess you people call Chicago style “pizza.” News flash: that’s not pizza.). There’s a little but wide bench under the TV where I can stack more of my crap if I need to. Lots of bins on the side under where a window would be if I had one. Bottom line: more than ample storage.

To convert the seat to a bed, you stand up, face the back of the seat, reach up with your left hand, release a mechanism on the back of the chair and pull toward you. (“Lift hand, flip wrist, drop hand, turn around” Anyone know the reference? Anyone? Bueller?) There’s a thin white pad on top of the sleeping surface, a pillow, and blue blanket. The blanket is too short (especially since I’m only 5’ 9”) and I look like L’il Abner with my feet poking out (I only wish Daisy was here to help keep me warm!). If I were 6 feet, I think I might have felt just a little bit restricted in the size of the bed. Luckily, I sleep in the fetal position, with my back to the rest of the cabin so they can’t hear me sobbing pitifully like a child in my sleep (don’t ask or wonder; I need to get my levels up. Let’s just leave it at that.) The bed surface is firm. If you are a fan of the Westin dream bed (or whatever they call it), you are going to be sorely disappointed (pun intended).

Warning: the overhead bins are pretty small. I’m pretty relieved I didn’t bring my roll aboard bag because I’d have been pretty embarrassed to heave that bad boy up there only find that it wouldn’t fit. At least I don’t think it will fit. If it does, that’s a pretty darn clever optical illusion.

But here’s the rub: this seat is just a little worn. Stains in the storage bins, grunge in the all the cracks, worn carpeting, torn labels, scuff marks on the walls, etc. I’d like to think that I’m not that picky- and I’m not (Picky? No. Insane? Guilty as charged). My expectations of SQ are reasonable, considering that this ticket cost about six boxes of ziti (luckily not mine). I’m not disappointed, but I’m underwhelmed. Service, on the other hand, is excellent. Not particularly personalized but attentive, cheerful, and efficient. The food is very good, from the crab salad with mango to the sea bass with saffron, capped off with the Ben and Jerry’s ice cream sundae. Skipped the cheese, port, etc. Enough already, do I look like I’m from Chicago? (Relax, just kidding.)

KrisWorld or whatever the heck they call the entertainment system: not bad although I’m not very good at buttonology. The selection is pretty wide, the quality is pretty good. I brought my own cans so I never touched the supplied headphones. I had a little trouble getting my can plug to stay in a good position to get stereo sound consistently but that’s a minor issue.

Gotta say: love the A380 bathrooms. Spacious, clean, and they smell good! L’Occitane products on the counter for your use, along with real cotton towels! No paper towels on this behemoth, and assuming that they actually recycle the little towels, I’m feeling pretty smug about SQ’s “Green” street cred (and if you know otherwise, don’t tell me or it will be a total eco-buzzcrush).

So we land at NRT after a really bumpy approach (which shatters my expectations that the A 380 is immune to turbulence. Or cracked wings). Gather up your belongings, I’m told, you don’t gotta go home but you can’t stay here. I stumble out and pass through another security screening process, with metal detectors only this time. 2 escalators down, I walk into the ANA Star Gold lounge which is actually pretty tranquil. Neatly stacked sandwiches, plenty to drink, and ramen made to order- you’ve got to love the orderliness of the Japanese. It just makes everything that much more appealing. I’ve got an hour to kill before reboarding, enough time to take a shower in the lounge (which you can, if you’re inclined) or get some work done on the free wifi. I opt for a little wifi action since “I got bidness to attend to and I can’t tend to my bidness without no damn signal” (if anyone can tell where that line is from, I will be duly impressed- no Googling allowed). No retail action that I can find, not even a DF shop, but its not like I went looking for it either.

Next thing you know, its time to reboard the whale which goes weirdly smooth. I stuff my crap in the bins again and I’m suddenly overwhelmingly tired. I punt on my Book The Cook vegetarian Indian dinner, snatch a few delicious satay off the passing cart, and fall asleep to the hypnotic grandeur of the Xanax Orchestra.

There’s a funny thing that always happens to me when I take vitamin X: a lingering amnestic effect that takes a few hours to diminish. So I have to be a bit careful: be more methodical, don’t make any rash decisions, avoid placing massive wagers with the college funds, don’t write any Trip Reports, don’t impulsively travel to foreign countries on the other side of the world….oops, I did it again! (Check out the Richard Thompson version of that song. It is definitive)

Fast forward an unknown quantity of time: the vitamin X effect is definitely diminishing, we’re only two hours out, I’ve got a huge mug of coffee, and I’ve got Odelay pumping through the Bose cans. Life is looking up. Booyah.

Wait: where was I? What time is it? Where am I? How did I get here? Somehow ended up in a cab on the way to a hotel in Singapore that I only vaguely recall. Man, that A380 was bumpy. Wait, I already said that. No car to meet me, despite assurances, no big deal. Its not like there’s a queue for cabs at 3:30 AM. At least, I thought they said they’d send a car. The again, it could the Vitamin X still lingering in the system. I am starving! Whoa, I’m in Singapore.

(What to say about Singapore? Great subway system, amazing food, and lots of people smoke and drink openly, I even saw people spitting in the street and a few girls chewing gum! There is a remarkable absence of overt police presence and absolutely no SUVs on the road- refreshing! Little India, Orchard Street, Sentosa, Marina Bay…pretty amazing places. But don’t take my word for it: take your own ridiculously long trip around the globe and see it for yourself.)

3 days go by in a blur. On the homeward leg, I’m late to Changi. Fast check in, faster immigration stamp, and the cursory “baggage xray at the gate.” Despite arriving only an hour before departure for an international flight (which was nausea-inducing given my travel anxiety), I have enough time to do some DF shopping for wifey (that Sisley stuff is spendy which makes me think I should have used my chemistry degree to start a cosmetics company). I even get a chance to run up to the SilverKris lounge on the way to the gate. I go into one of the freshly cleaned shower rooms, change into something more comfortable, then head back into the lounge and hammer down some topshelf grinds. The SKL has a most excellent spread of fresh, delicious and varied food I’ve seen. The veggie curry is really spicy and perfect for a preboard snack. I stroll down to the gate (fair warning: this is a pretty enormous airport so give yourself a few minutes) and straight onto the plane.

Onward to home: the A340 seats about 100. I’ve got row 20, in the middle cabin over the wing. I’m sitting by a window this time, which is cool since I’ve got daylight on this leg. At least I can watch departure then stare at the sea for 14 hours. The onboard air is cool and being actively humidified; mags and papers handed out with glasses of bubbly. My work here is done and I can relax. Damn, I feel good.

The A340 is like flying a very large private jet with about 80 other people. Private enough, plenty of space, with excellent service. The overhead bins are way bigger than on the A380. There is plenty of room for bags, but the A340 lacks any of the extra “windowside” storage bins. All things being equal, I like the bigger overhead bins. Dinner service is kicked off promptly: lobster salad followed by slipper lobster thermidor, followed by lobster ice cream (just kidding about that last part). The actual dessert was horrible- not sure what it was but it was as hard as a brick. Later, they served me spicy fishballs. (ah, forget it, too easy to make fun of that one). It was delicious too. I was too busy watching back to back to back to back to back episodes of The Wire (the second greatest TV show of all time, after Arrested Development).

Bathrooms were not as nice as the A380- a bit smaller, more like a typical BR you’d expect. Still nicely appointed but just smaller. Overall, the flight was very smooth with nary a bump all the way home.
Once again, with the assistance of modern pharmaceuticals, I end up getting about 6 hours of sleep. I don’t have the bulkhead this time, but I’m OK with the little foot cutout. However, if I were 6 feet or taller, I might feel a little cramped.

We land early. I literally walked off the plane, walked straight up to the immigration desk, out through customs, and was deeply inhaling that lovely brown muck that LA people call “air” in maybe 10 minutes- the vast majority of that time was spent walking through the long, long corridors. There was actually a much longer line for the Global Entry "expedited" immigration service. (“Suckers, meet my good friend, Irony. Irony, suckers”)

So, after all of this, the winner is: A340, without a doubt. I’m glad I flew the A380 but frankly I can’t say it was that unique. The seating wasn’t that great, the flight wasn’t that smooth, and there really wasn’t anything that made me feel like I was experiencing something unique. Never actually got to look at the behemoth, given the gate set up at LAX, so I can’t even say I was awed by its sheer size. I’d also say that stopping in Japan on the way over was a bit disruptive. On the other hand, the A340 was a very unique, almost intimate flying experience that I highly recommend. I also think there is more storage on the A340, especially if you’re bringing a typical wheelie bag. When I go back to SIN next year, I will definitely do the A340 both ways. SQ service overall was excellent. It was maybe a little mechanical but absolutely friendly and efficient. And SQ FAs can be hard to not stare at (that rhythmic thumping noise you hear is my English teacher having a seizure).

If you’ve made it this far, thanks for reading and congrats for putting up with my shenanigans and lack of an editor.

mingster23

Hands down the most entertaining trip report I have ever read. Am contemplating doing the reverse journey myself later this year on the way to YYC and was also unsure if I should stop off in NRT or whether I should go all the way to LAX (first option is actually to try and go to SFO via ICN). Sounds like the A340 is the way to go then. Thanks.

harvardalumna

I have enjoyed reading your trip report immensely!

9V-SIA

Very funny TR. Thanks for sharing

kittiyut

Loved it! Great trip report. ^

cmdsea

+1 ^

KACommuter

Having done SIN LAX on the A340, I find it difficult to understand why anyone would deliberately choose to fly SQ's SIN NRT LAX route. It is the same airline, same business class hardware, and offers the dubious pleasure of landing in Singapore at 3am. The only reason for doing so is because the nonstop only flies 5 days a week.

Catweazle

You sure write pretty well and have a way of weaving sentences together that make for entertaining reading, rather than all that boring technical jargon so common to trip reports!

Someone may come along though and move it to the trip reports sections, but ^ anyway - jolly good show!

CommittedLurker

My head hurts after reading this.

misdirected baggage

Here I was, wrestling with the same dilemma --- LAX->SIN with 3 options:

1. UA's product connecting in NRT (at least it's the new 787) and not UA's sardine J class;
2. SQ A340 for a grand more but nonstop;
3. SQ A380 via NRT (also a grand more).

You guys convinced me to do the A340, assuming that the Xanax will get me a good night's sleep on the way there. Those birds won't be around much longer as SQ is dropping them and you may never see these super-long-haul flights again, so best to get them today. So, now if I can only get SQ's wacky web booking engine to work right....

Nicely written. Thanks!

blackmamba

For a grand more? Just go with UA. It's J product isn't even that bad.

StephenSamuel1234

Thanks for sharing. Very helpful report.

Madone59

Thank you for this TR, I really need to find a reason to fly the A340 befor it gets cxled.