Class Struggle
 

...For the first leg of this journey, I traversed the land of first class. There, serene-looking denizens refreshed themselves with moist, heated terry-cloth towels, which attendants delicately collected with metal tongs before passing around flutes of champagne. Then, through the next curtained doorway, business class. No face towels or champagne here either, but a spacious enough setting that passengers could ostentatiously cross their legs in front of them and lean comfortably back. And then ... where I was headed, the dark hole into which most of the plane's human cargo would be crammed. Its unhappy occupants fought each other for space in the storage bins and dreaded the moment when the seat in front of them would begin to slide back...
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