Deep, deep, deep, deep undercover. On EK...
May 20, 2011, 12:30 am
#16
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Ah, no, that's when we were still in Y.
May 21, 2011, 8:52 am
#17
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I think someone wanted photographic evidence that we went on this trip.
So here you go. This is Ung1. Well, his feet more like it. On the red carpet in SIN. Probably the youngest gate lice ever.
And here was his seat from CMB to DXB
And for those of you who expect to see a photo of me, think again. Not going to happen. Well, perhaps just a quick glance. Just this once.
Here you go ladies. There. Are you satisfied?
Around about this time, we were just getting settled into our new First Class surroundings. The crew are still somewhat puzzled as to how 2 x Y passengers from the previous sector had now wiggled their way into F.
But no matter. The Dom flowed. Even though it was now around 5am local time in the morning, I had to accept a glass of bubbly. After all, I didn't want to offend the poor women and be rude.
But I was intrigued with our new seat mate. No, not Ung1. The new kid we had collected while on the ground in CMB. Maybe he was lost, I said to myself. Much to Ung1's disgust, he had seat 1A. Which he found more offensive than if he caught the guy sleeping with his sister. If he had one. Anyway.
Firstly, he looked like Doogie Howsers younger brother. I guessed he was 20-something. Clearly, I was old enough to be his father.
Second of all - he was wearing shorts, a t-shirt, socks and running shoes. He looked like he was about as welcome in F as a fart in a space-suit.
Or something like this.
He was clicking away with his Nikon something camera. I was fit to be tied…
"Ung1, go ask him what his handle is on FT?"
"Why me?" he says innocently enough
"Because"
"Because why…?"
"Because he's obviously not a normal person. He has to be an FT'er"
This was now starting to sound like a conversation I have with my own children. With regular monotony.
Thankfully, he didn't require further prodding or beating and he confidently approaches our new class mate.
Instantly, they are best friends.
That's the thing about this generation. They don't really speak to each other. I mean, how can they - when all their lives they have had the text function, instant messenger and Google at their fingertips.
These 20+ year olds start grunting to each other. A nod of the head here. A cursory look there. A faint smile every now and then. I perhaps heard 2-words come out of their mouths.
Ung1 returns to his seat as the crew indicate that we are about to head for Dubai. Time to put Columbo in our six, as the aviators would say.
"So, what's up with our trigger happy snapper…" referring to our new friend with the overly expensive camera.
"He's German, was studying in HKG, now relocating to LHR. He's a lawyer. A brand new one" says Ung1
"You found all that out with a few grunts?"
"Yes, we spoke at length"
"No doubt"
"He saw the fare on FT"
"And booked a couple of them"
"He's on his return leg from the first trip"
"No wonder he looks like he needs a good wash"
So the 3 of us all strike up a conversation. At one point, we were talking so loudly that some crew person told us to pipe down. Which is a bit hard when you have inhaled 3 bottles of French champagne.
Amazingly, our new seat mate isn't registered on FT. He just reads it.
Hey, do you want to know a piece of trivia? I thought so.
On something like a 3-hour sector (ie CMB-DXB), EK cater 6 x bottles of Dom in the F cabin. There's 8 seats in F on the 777-300ER. I wonder what the poor people in the last 2 seats get to drink?
At one point, I steal a glance over at my traveling companion. He's like a kid in a candy store. Turning everything with a button on. Then off again. Stuffing everything thats not bolted down into his bag. I kid. That wasn't him. It was me.
As I reflect on the 4 sectors we travelled, the drawback was that we seemed to eat a lot of breakfasts. Which is ok as Espresso to me is more important than oxygen.
Because I am older than my 2-seat mates combined (by 1 year), I was wise enough to get some sleep. Not much. But enough to calm my nerves.
We land in the sandpit at sparrows. Way too early. Because we were departing in just under 24-hours, we were able to avail ourselves of the F lounge. Which is pretty decent. In fact, its damn good. The place is enormous. And it is a proper dining room where you can act like civilized people and order off a menu.
But there's 2 things EK need to fix.
First - the showers. The pressure is so feeble that a hamster would have trouble drowning in there. You turn the tap to "H", which in most parts of the world, implies warm water will soon arrive.
In Arabic, the letter "H" must be an abbreviation for "Ha, we want to hear you scream and watch your family jewels run and hide in your stomach"
Or something like this.
Then there's the horrid state of the internet connection. As in, there is none. Actually I lie, when you turn on your laptop, something clever within your machine tells you that it in fact, you can "see" the EK wireless network. You type in the key. As in password. And then wait. And wait some more.
You try Google. Nope, nothing.
Soft porn site. Nada
Hard porn site. Just laughing in the background.
Email collection is a joke.
In short, the internet connection was so slow that I celebrated a wedding anniversary. Twice. Time stood still. It was agonizing. To me at least.
You would think that this would be a simple fix. Same with the water temp and pressure. But obviously not.
It must piss the rich people off no end. But then again, maybe they don't do the interweb thing like us mere mortals.
One leg down. Three more to go. And 2 over-confident, semi-arrogant generation X'ers to deal with. Or are they Y'ers? I forget.
More soon...
So here you go. This is Ung1. Well, his feet more like it. On the red carpet in SIN. Probably the youngest gate lice ever.
And here was his seat from CMB to DXB
And for those of you who expect to see a photo of me, think again. Not going to happen. Well, perhaps just a quick glance. Just this once.
Here you go ladies. There. Are you satisfied?
Around about this time, we were just getting settled into our new First Class surroundings. The crew are still somewhat puzzled as to how 2 x Y passengers from the previous sector had now wiggled their way into F.
But no matter. The Dom flowed. Even though it was now around 5am local time in the morning, I had to accept a glass of bubbly. After all, I didn't want to offend the poor women and be rude.
But I was intrigued with our new seat mate. No, not Ung1. The new kid we had collected while on the ground in CMB. Maybe he was lost, I said to myself. Much to Ung1's disgust, he had seat 1A. Which he found more offensive than if he caught the guy sleeping with his sister. If he had one. Anyway.
Firstly, he looked like Doogie Howsers younger brother. I guessed he was 20-something. Clearly, I was old enough to be his father.
Second of all - he was wearing shorts, a t-shirt, socks and running shoes. He looked like he was about as welcome in F as a fart in a space-suit.
Or something like this.
He was clicking away with his Nikon something camera. I was fit to be tied…
"Ung1, go ask him what his handle is on FT?"
"Why me?" he says innocently enough
"Because"
"Because why…?"
"Because he's obviously not a normal person. He has to be an FT'er"
This was now starting to sound like a conversation I have with my own children. With regular monotony.
Thankfully, he didn't require further prodding or beating and he confidently approaches our new class mate.
Instantly, they are best friends.
That's the thing about this generation. They don't really speak to each other. I mean, how can they - when all their lives they have had the text function, instant messenger and Google at their fingertips.
These 20+ year olds start grunting to each other. A nod of the head here. A cursory look there. A faint smile every now and then. I perhaps heard 2-words come out of their mouths.
Ung1 returns to his seat as the crew indicate that we are about to head for Dubai. Time to put Columbo in our six, as the aviators would say.
"So, what's up with our trigger happy snapper…" referring to our new friend with the overly expensive camera.
"He's German, was studying in HKG, now relocating to LHR. He's a lawyer. A brand new one" says Ung1
"You found all that out with a few grunts?"
"Yes, we spoke at length"
"No doubt"
"He saw the fare on FT"
"And booked a couple of them"
"He's on his return leg from the first trip"
"No wonder he looks like he needs a good wash"
So the 3 of us all strike up a conversation. At one point, we were talking so loudly that some crew person told us to pipe down. Which is a bit hard when you have inhaled 3 bottles of French champagne.
Amazingly, our new seat mate isn't registered on FT. He just reads it.
Hey, do you want to know a piece of trivia? I thought so.
On something like a 3-hour sector (ie CMB-DXB), EK cater 6 x bottles of Dom in the F cabin. There's 8 seats in F on the 777-300ER. I wonder what the poor people in the last 2 seats get to drink?
At one point, I steal a glance over at my traveling companion. He's like a kid in a candy store. Turning everything with a button on. Then off again. Stuffing everything thats not bolted down into his bag. I kid. That wasn't him. It was me.
As I reflect on the 4 sectors we travelled, the drawback was that we seemed to eat a lot of breakfasts. Which is ok as Espresso to me is more important than oxygen.
Because I am older than my 2-seat mates combined (by 1 year), I was wise enough to get some sleep. Not much. But enough to calm my nerves.
We land in the sandpit at sparrows. Way too early. Because we were departing in just under 24-hours, we were able to avail ourselves of the F lounge. Which is pretty decent. In fact, its damn good. The place is enormous. And it is a proper dining room where you can act like civilized people and order off a menu.
But there's 2 things EK need to fix.
First - the showers. The pressure is so feeble that a hamster would have trouble drowning in there. You turn the tap to "H", which in most parts of the world, implies warm water will soon arrive.
In Arabic, the letter "H" must be an abbreviation for "Ha, we want to hear you scream and watch your family jewels run and hide in your stomach"
Or something like this.
Then there's the horrid state of the internet connection. As in, there is none. Actually I lie, when you turn on your laptop, something clever within your machine tells you that it in fact, you can "see" the EK wireless network. You type in the key. As in password. And then wait. And wait some more.
You try Google. Nope, nothing.
Soft porn site. Nada
Hard porn site. Just laughing in the background.
Email collection is a joke.
In short, the internet connection was so slow that I celebrated a wedding anniversary. Twice. Time stood still. It was agonizing. To me at least.
You would think that this would be a simple fix. Same with the water temp and pressure. But obviously not.
It must piss the rich people off no end. But then again, maybe they don't do the interweb thing like us mere mortals.
One leg down. Three more to go. And 2 over-confident, semi-arrogant generation X'ers to deal with. Or are they Y'ers? I forget.
More soon...
Last edited by eightblack; May 21, 2011 at 9:18 am
May 21, 2011, 10:27 am
#19
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May 21, 2011, 6:57 pm
#21
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May 22, 2011, 6:53 am
#22
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It's 05:45 on a Sunday morning and I am laughing my a** off. What a fabulous read. eightblack, your TRs are wonderfully entertaining. Can't wait for the next installment.
May 24, 2011, 7:43 am
#26
Join Date: Jan 2005
Location: Sydney, Australia
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linked from AFF. another pearler.
Am just not sure how many of those 6 bottle eightblack finished off on each leg, and what remnants were left for the other passengers
clearly being of lesser age ung1 and <yettoregister> (as he will now be known) were drinking lesser spirits
Am just not sure how many of those 6 bottle eightblack finished off on each leg, and what remnants were left for the other passengers
clearly being of lesser age ung1 and <yettoregister> (as he will now be known) were drinking lesser spirits
May 25, 2011, 3:02 pm
#27
Suspended
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May 26, 2011, 6:18 pm
#28
Join Date: Jun 2010
Location: Hopping through the Forest
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But there's 2 things EK need to fix.
First - the showers. The pressure is so feeble that a hamster would have trouble drowning in there. You turn the tap to "H", which in most parts of the world, implies warm water will soon arrive.
In Arabic, the letter "H" must be an abbreviation for "Ha, we want to hear you scream and watch your family jewels run and hide in your stomach"
Or something like this.
Then there's the horrid state of the internet connection. As in, there is none. Actually I lie, when you turn on your laptop, something clever within your machine tells you that it in fact, you can "see" the EK wireless network. You type in the key. As in password. And then wait. And wait some more.
You try Google. Nope, nothing.
Soft porn site. Nada
Hard porn site. Just laughing in the background.
Email collection is a joke.
First - the showers. The pressure is so feeble that a hamster would have trouble drowning in there. You turn the tap to "H", which in most parts of the world, implies warm water will soon arrive.
In Arabic, the letter "H" must be an abbreviation for "Ha, we want to hear you scream and watch your family jewels run and hide in your stomach"
Or something like this.
Then there's the horrid state of the internet connection. As in, there is none. Actually I lie, when you turn on your laptop, something clever within your machine tells you that it in fact, you can "see" the EK wireless network. You type in the key. As in password. And then wait. And wait some more.
You try Google. Nope, nothing.
Soft porn site. Nada
Hard porn site. Just laughing in the background.
Email collection is a joke.
May 27, 2011, 7:06 pm
#30
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Original Poster
Join Date: Jul 2009
Location: Denver, CO
Programs: UA GS-2MM, Marriott Ambassador
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So there I am. Or was. Sitting down for breakfast with 2 humans who are technically young enough to call me "Dad". We've taken up residence in the dining area of EK's F lounge in T3.
A very nice wait-person brought us all menus. Impressive indeed.
Our "handle-less" new friend was patiently explaining to us what was good on the menu. He was like a MasterChef critic. He knew the menu well. Which worried me somewhat.
Then I thought to myself, my lord, what have we created here? I mean, can you remember that far back when you were in your early twenties? I can - just. I remember being thrown out of University. Lets just say that the course I enrolled in, which included a subject titled "Women's Studies", wasn't what I thought it would be. I had visions of getting up close and personal with scantily clad supermodels. Sadly, the lectures were full of angry women with short haircuts. Talking about other angry women with short haircuts. Or how much they detested anything with testicles. I knew something was amiss when I discovered that I was only one of three guys in the entire class. And the other two. Well, lets just say that they gave new meaning to the word "camp". If you know what I mean.
In addition, the Dean and I had differing opinions about what was acceptable attendance. I thought when they published the academic timetable, it was meant as a rough guide only. Sort of like the safety card in the seat-back pocket. Quite useful until something goes wrong, then it has about as much value as an Enron share certificate.
Or something like that.
Mobile phones were in their infancy and twitter, texting, and Google were all a figment of someones imagination when I was at college. In fact, Larry Page was a precocious 15-year old. I think that the snot nosed Zuckerberg person was still in diapers. Facespace (or whatever the hell its called) wasn't even a dream. Don't even start me.
So anyway. Back to being young and irresponsible. When I was the same age as my traveling First Class accomplices, I had perhaps been on a plane maybe a dozen times. And maybe once or twice in business. I don't even think I understood what F was. And I considered myself privileged compared to most. My old man used to travel to Asia frequently, back when CX was an absolute cracker of an airline. He used to let me tag along. But that came to an abrupt end when my mother found out what really went on in Karaoke Bars in Taiwan. Mothers have no sense of humor. Or adventure.
But here I was in the dining area of the First Class lounge, for one of the best airlines in the world with 2 young guys who were talking about the nuances of first class air travel. I cant remember what time it was, but it was o'dark hundred. To try and put my brain into gear, I ordered a Bloody Mary. The boys ordered juices. Or something as equally unsatisfying at that hour of the morning.
In an attempt to lighten the mood I tried to make small talk over breakfast…
"Are you sure you're both not gay?"
Ung1, who is now quite used to my barrage of questions about his personal life, simply smiled.
"What about girlfriends?", I quipped
Handle-less didn't miss a beat and said that yes, in fact, he did have one.
I asked if her name was Roger. Or Robert. Or maybe even Hamish.
Apparently, it was not. It was a real girls name, he insisted.
Here's the thing. What amazes me about our "tribe" is that we seem to have a large group of young people who know way too much about premium air travel and all things related to it. More importantly, they know how to game the system better than anyone. Their brains are quicker, they are far more resilient in adversity and they have the mental dexterity to be able to hold 3 concurrent conversations at once.
The fact that they all seem to be well educated, nerdy young guys worries me though.
Maybe it's simply me and the fact that I am the one who is the real nerd. And getting old.
So, we finish breakfast, and decide that now might be the time for us to independently attend to our morning ablutions. As I mentioned, the showers in EK's F-class lounge are pitiful. In terms of water pressure. But we manage. Mercifully, the F class bathrooms are a place of tranquility and peace, unlike the football stadium environment over at the J lounge. Makes me want to pay for F everytime I am transiting DXB.
Handle-less has a morning flight to MLE. And Ung1 and I have a day of visiting hotels and meetings - all to do with the planning of the Dubai Do. We're not scheduled to fly out to MLE until 0300 the next day, so we had all day and all night, if you know what I mean.
We bid farewell to our new friend and exchanged email details. There was some reference of poking each other on FaceSpace but my eyes started to glaze over when this was brought up, thinking that it really was about time that these 2 young guys started hanging out with more girls.
I have no idea why, but Ung1 insisted on us taking advantage of EK's limo service. I wasn't sure if we could technically use it, given that we were in transit and DXB wasn't our final destination but I was too tired to argue the point. And besides, EK has a flotilla of vehicles in Dubai, all waiting to be deployed and given that it was 10am - the mad rush hour was over. We approached one of the drivers and there was much arm waving and confusion as to why we wanted a car now. Clearly we had interrupted their nap time. Only hypertensive FT'ers like us wanted to be driven somewhere at this hour.
One of life's mysteries, as far as I am concerned, is EK's logic to use Volvo's for their Chauffeur drive service in Dubai. I mean, the words Volvo and Chauffeur Drive go together about as well as sex and chlamydia. Or something like this. And to add insult to injury, these are Volvo station wagons. Typically, these vehicles are what irritated mothers do the morning school run in. In the land of bling, these are about the most "unblingy" thing imaginable.
Maybe EK's procurement person is sleeping with someone from Sweden. Maybe he likes meatballs. Maybe Volvos' sales rep for the Middle East was invited to EK's Christmas party a few years ago by mistake and witnessed something he shouldn't have but as luck would have it, had his digital camera with him. I haven't the foggiest. All I know is that you can get picked up in Germany in a Benz or Beemer and then be dropped off in the middle of the desert in a housebrick on wheels. Whatever.
We make it through the day. Just. Ung1 decides that he had better do the right thing and go visit his folks, given that they live in DXB. I concur with his decision, although wish him luck in trying to explain this party trick to his mother. Luckily for him, his old man was away on business. I know if I pulled a stunt like this when I was his age, I would have been given a good beating.
At this stage, we're one out of 4 F segments down but at the end of day one, I felt like I had been run over by an irate ex-wife whose settlement wasn't to her liking. It was pucker time. I had no desire to visit any more of DXB after we had finished schlepping from one hotel to another so agreed with Ung1 that I would head back to the tranquility of the F lounge and meet him back there at around 1am. In the meantime, I was going to try and get some sleep. Or drink heavily. I hadn't decided which and given that both habits come naturally, I would simply see where the day took me.
Thankfully, I have perfected the art of sleeping in noisy environments. Being a parent helps. But so does a decent pair of earplugs, an eye-mask and a bottle of Chablis. All of which could be found at my new home.
1am rolls around and we are at this point, starting to feel the effects of sleep depravation. But we knew our mission was far from over. So we push on.
The wait between 1am and 3am was agonizing. Finally, we head off. Luck is on our side and we are fortunate enough to be in Suites again. More Dom (didn't want to be rude) and yet another EK breakfast. I was starting to look like a freaking croissant. I think the load was 5 out of 8 (ask Ung1, as my judgement may have been impaired at this point).
We have a great crew and the Purser comes and says hello. A wonderfully charismatic German guy (lets call him Herman). Now some of you might think that seeing "charismatic" and "german" in the same sentence is a typo. But it is not. Herman was a great operator. Nothing was too much trouble.
The morning sun broke through the fading darkness as the pilots pushed the big bird towards the tiny island of Male. Flying never gets old - especially when you are in F. And especially when you are flying out over water, with spectacular views.
We casually ask how long the crew stays on the ground in MLE. They don't, came the reply. They simply refuel, re-stock and operate the return flight back to DXB. With a new set of passengers. Total time on the tarmac is an anorexic 60-minutes.
Ung1 and I were still unclear as to what we were going to do on the ground all day in MLE. You see, our original return flight to DXB was scheduled to depart around 11pm that night. Meaning we had to occupy ourselves for around 12 or more hours. All I needed was a bar stool and wi-fi and I would be happy. But then I thought, no point in spending a day there. So I decided to try and get on the return flight.
Even Ung1 started to question my intelligence.
We bid farewell to our crew, with most of them saying to themselves, thank god we never have to see those 2 again. Head down the portable stairs, across the tarmac and into the quaint little arrivals area of the MLE airport. I see an EK staff member, holding a clip board and 2-way radio, looking quite serious. I was about to tip her over the edge.
"Hi there, I just got off the flight from DXB"
"Yes"
"I'd like to see if there are seats on the return flight. The flight which leaves in an hour. In F."
"Are you serious?"
"Yes"
"Did you fall down the stairs and bang your head?"
"No"
"Have you been drinking?"
"Well, yes, as a matter of fact. But hardly anything you would deem excessive"
Ung1 was in the immigration queue while this was going on. He hadn't decided at this point to join me - and besides, he had to collect a bag and the romantic fool wanted a MLE stamp in his passport. We sort of agreed to reconnect back in DXB if it all went pear shaped from this point on.
The small EK staff member started barking at the walkie talkie. The man on the other end was in a stupor. He too was fit to be tied. I was told to go and "sit over there" like a naughty school kid. There was a lot of arm waving. And a lot of staring. There was but 1 seat left in F I was told during my verbal intercourse with the EK person. And it was allegedly very difficult to change at the last minute.
Now, to the uneducated, this may have been an act of insanity. Flying all that way, to one of the most beautiful places in the world. To an island which is a part of twenty-six atolls, which comprises a total of just under 1200 islands. With crystal clear waters. And some of the best diving our fragile planet has to offer.
But this wasn't a holiday. This was a mileage run of sorts. And only a true mileage runner would understand.
Eventually, and rather reluctantly, the little Maldivian woman returned with 2 boarding passes. One for the MLE to DXB flight, and the second was for my DXB to CMB flight. She continued to shake her head in disbelief and then passed me off onto some sort of security person who escorted me to security.
Security was a bit of a shambles. But no tears were to be had and I proceeded upstairs to the common premium lounge that EK customers could use. Logged on and caught up on some work briefly and then went to grab a drink. Except for the fact that no alcohol is allowed in the airport. At all. In fact, drinking is not really the done thing in the Maldives. Which if you ask me, is a good enough reason to catch the very next flight home. I was outraged. Apparently, the consumption of alcoholic beverages is confined to resorts only. And even then, it is obscenely expensive. The importation of alcohol is illegal. As is homosexuality. I'm not sure though how you do one without the other. But I digress.
Boarding commences. As I hoof it back up the mobile staircase, I can see Herman looking down at me in bewilderment.
"Mr Eightback, what are you doing here?"
"Did you forget something?"
"No"
"What are you doing then?"
"Going back to Dubai"
"Are you serious?"
"Yes, deadly"
"What on earth for?"
No later than 2-minutes pass and Ung1's ugly face appears in the cabin. He decides to join me on the quick turn. By this stage, Herman and the rest of the crew are apoplectic. They are convinced we work for EK as some sort of undercover researchers. Ung1 patiently tries to explain to Herman what FT is all about and what a Mileage Run is. He is unmoved. And definitely unconvinced.
Push back is a simple process of removing the portable stairs, a lot of people on the ground running off into the nearby trees and the EK Captain giving the 2 massive GE engines a boot-full of Jet-A and letting just under 130,000 pounds of thrust do the work of turning the wide-body. We're airborne in seconds.
The seat belt light goes off and I hear that soothing sound of the Dom cork popping and champagne flutes clinking. Herman appears. With glass and bottle in hand.
He seems more relaxed now. Maybe he's had a glass himself. Still doesn't buy our story but nevertheless - happy to chat about our insane adventure. Which is now 3 quarters complete.
I sit there, slightly jealous of the view and what we have left behind…
It's good to be in F. And I'm glad I'm in this tribe...
A very nice wait-person brought us all menus. Impressive indeed.
Our "handle-less" new friend was patiently explaining to us what was good on the menu. He was like a MasterChef critic. He knew the menu well. Which worried me somewhat.
Then I thought to myself, my lord, what have we created here? I mean, can you remember that far back when you were in your early twenties? I can - just. I remember being thrown out of University. Lets just say that the course I enrolled in, which included a subject titled "Women's Studies", wasn't what I thought it would be. I had visions of getting up close and personal with scantily clad supermodels. Sadly, the lectures were full of angry women with short haircuts. Talking about other angry women with short haircuts. Or how much they detested anything with testicles. I knew something was amiss when I discovered that I was only one of three guys in the entire class. And the other two. Well, lets just say that they gave new meaning to the word "camp". If you know what I mean.
In addition, the Dean and I had differing opinions about what was acceptable attendance. I thought when they published the academic timetable, it was meant as a rough guide only. Sort of like the safety card in the seat-back pocket. Quite useful until something goes wrong, then it has about as much value as an Enron share certificate.
Or something like that.
Mobile phones were in their infancy and twitter, texting, and Google were all a figment of someones imagination when I was at college. In fact, Larry Page was a precocious 15-year old. I think that the snot nosed Zuckerberg person was still in diapers. Facespace (or whatever the hell its called) wasn't even a dream. Don't even start me.
So anyway. Back to being young and irresponsible. When I was the same age as my traveling First Class accomplices, I had perhaps been on a plane maybe a dozen times. And maybe once or twice in business. I don't even think I understood what F was. And I considered myself privileged compared to most. My old man used to travel to Asia frequently, back when CX was an absolute cracker of an airline. He used to let me tag along. But that came to an abrupt end when my mother found out what really went on in Karaoke Bars in Taiwan. Mothers have no sense of humor. Or adventure.
But here I was in the dining area of the First Class lounge, for one of the best airlines in the world with 2 young guys who were talking about the nuances of first class air travel. I cant remember what time it was, but it was o'dark hundred. To try and put my brain into gear, I ordered a Bloody Mary. The boys ordered juices. Or something as equally unsatisfying at that hour of the morning.
In an attempt to lighten the mood I tried to make small talk over breakfast…
"Are you sure you're both not gay?"
Ung1, who is now quite used to my barrage of questions about his personal life, simply smiled.
"What about girlfriends?", I quipped
Handle-less didn't miss a beat and said that yes, in fact, he did have one.
I asked if her name was Roger. Or Robert. Or maybe even Hamish.
Apparently, it was not. It was a real girls name, he insisted.
Here's the thing. What amazes me about our "tribe" is that we seem to have a large group of young people who know way too much about premium air travel and all things related to it. More importantly, they know how to game the system better than anyone. Their brains are quicker, they are far more resilient in adversity and they have the mental dexterity to be able to hold 3 concurrent conversations at once.
The fact that they all seem to be well educated, nerdy young guys worries me though.
Maybe it's simply me and the fact that I am the one who is the real nerd. And getting old.
So, we finish breakfast, and decide that now might be the time for us to independently attend to our morning ablutions. As I mentioned, the showers in EK's F-class lounge are pitiful. In terms of water pressure. But we manage. Mercifully, the F class bathrooms are a place of tranquility and peace, unlike the football stadium environment over at the J lounge. Makes me want to pay for F everytime I am transiting DXB.
Handle-less has a morning flight to MLE. And Ung1 and I have a day of visiting hotels and meetings - all to do with the planning of the Dubai Do. We're not scheduled to fly out to MLE until 0300 the next day, so we had all day and all night, if you know what I mean.
We bid farewell to our new friend and exchanged email details. There was some reference of poking each other on FaceSpace but my eyes started to glaze over when this was brought up, thinking that it really was about time that these 2 young guys started hanging out with more girls.
I have no idea why, but Ung1 insisted on us taking advantage of EK's limo service. I wasn't sure if we could technically use it, given that we were in transit and DXB wasn't our final destination but I was too tired to argue the point. And besides, EK has a flotilla of vehicles in Dubai, all waiting to be deployed and given that it was 10am - the mad rush hour was over. We approached one of the drivers and there was much arm waving and confusion as to why we wanted a car now. Clearly we had interrupted their nap time. Only hypertensive FT'ers like us wanted to be driven somewhere at this hour.
One of life's mysteries, as far as I am concerned, is EK's logic to use Volvo's for their Chauffeur drive service in Dubai. I mean, the words Volvo and Chauffeur Drive go together about as well as sex and chlamydia. Or something like this. And to add insult to injury, these are Volvo station wagons. Typically, these vehicles are what irritated mothers do the morning school run in. In the land of bling, these are about the most "unblingy" thing imaginable.
Maybe EK's procurement person is sleeping with someone from Sweden. Maybe he likes meatballs. Maybe Volvos' sales rep for the Middle East was invited to EK's Christmas party a few years ago by mistake and witnessed something he shouldn't have but as luck would have it, had his digital camera with him. I haven't the foggiest. All I know is that you can get picked up in Germany in a Benz or Beemer and then be dropped off in the middle of the desert in a housebrick on wheels. Whatever.
We make it through the day. Just. Ung1 decides that he had better do the right thing and go visit his folks, given that they live in DXB. I concur with his decision, although wish him luck in trying to explain this party trick to his mother. Luckily for him, his old man was away on business. I know if I pulled a stunt like this when I was his age, I would have been given a good beating.
At this stage, we're one out of 4 F segments down but at the end of day one, I felt like I had been run over by an irate ex-wife whose settlement wasn't to her liking. It was pucker time. I had no desire to visit any more of DXB after we had finished schlepping from one hotel to another so agreed with Ung1 that I would head back to the tranquility of the F lounge and meet him back there at around 1am. In the meantime, I was going to try and get some sleep. Or drink heavily. I hadn't decided which and given that both habits come naturally, I would simply see where the day took me.
Thankfully, I have perfected the art of sleeping in noisy environments. Being a parent helps. But so does a decent pair of earplugs, an eye-mask and a bottle of Chablis. All of which could be found at my new home.
1am rolls around and we are at this point, starting to feel the effects of sleep depravation. But we knew our mission was far from over. So we push on.
The wait between 1am and 3am was agonizing. Finally, we head off. Luck is on our side and we are fortunate enough to be in Suites again. More Dom (didn't want to be rude) and yet another EK breakfast. I was starting to look like a freaking croissant. I think the load was 5 out of 8 (ask Ung1, as my judgement may have been impaired at this point).
We have a great crew and the Purser comes and says hello. A wonderfully charismatic German guy (lets call him Herman). Now some of you might think that seeing "charismatic" and "german" in the same sentence is a typo. But it is not. Herman was a great operator. Nothing was too much trouble.
The morning sun broke through the fading darkness as the pilots pushed the big bird towards the tiny island of Male. Flying never gets old - especially when you are in F. And especially when you are flying out over water, with spectacular views.
We casually ask how long the crew stays on the ground in MLE. They don't, came the reply. They simply refuel, re-stock and operate the return flight back to DXB. With a new set of passengers. Total time on the tarmac is an anorexic 60-minutes.
Ung1 and I were still unclear as to what we were going to do on the ground all day in MLE. You see, our original return flight to DXB was scheduled to depart around 11pm that night. Meaning we had to occupy ourselves for around 12 or more hours. All I needed was a bar stool and wi-fi and I would be happy. But then I thought, no point in spending a day there. So I decided to try and get on the return flight.
Even Ung1 started to question my intelligence.
We bid farewell to our crew, with most of them saying to themselves, thank god we never have to see those 2 again. Head down the portable stairs, across the tarmac and into the quaint little arrivals area of the MLE airport. I see an EK staff member, holding a clip board and 2-way radio, looking quite serious. I was about to tip her over the edge.
"Hi there, I just got off the flight from DXB"
"Yes"
"I'd like to see if there are seats on the return flight. The flight which leaves in an hour. In F."
"Are you serious?"
"Yes"
"Did you fall down the stairs and bang your head?"
"No"
"Have you been drinking?"
"Well, yes, as a matter of fact. But hardly anything you would deem excessive"
Ung1 was in the immigration queue while this was going on. He hadn't decided at this point to join me - and besides, he had to collect a bag and the romantic fool wanted a MLE stamp in his passport. We sort of agreed to reconnect back in DXB if it all went pear shaped from this point on.
The small EK staff member started barking at the walkie talkie. The man on the other end was in a stupor. He too was fit to be tied. I was told to go and "sit over there" like a naughty school kid. There was a lot of arm waving. And a lot of staring. There was but 1 seat left in F I was told during my verbal intercourse with the EK person. And it was allegedly very difficult to change at the last minute.
Now, to the uneducated, this may have been an act of insanity. Flying all that way, to one of the most beautiful places in the world. To an island which is a part of twenty-six atolls, which comprises a total of just under 1200 islands. With crystal clear waters. And some of the best diving our fragile planet has to offer.
But this wasn't a holiday. This was a mileage run of sorts. And only a true mileage runner would understand.
Eventually, and rather reluctantly, the little Maldivian woman returned with 2 boarding passes. One for the MLE to DXB flight, and the second was for my DXB to CMB flight. She continued to shake her head in disbelief and then passed me off onto some sort of security person who escorted me to security.
Security was a bit of a shambles. But no tears were to be had and I proceeded upstairs to the common premium lounge that EK customers could use. Logged on and caught up on some work briefly and then went to grab a drink. Except for the fact that no alcohol is allowed in the airport. At all. In fact, drinking is not really the done thing in the Maldives. Which if you ask me, is a good enough reason to catch the very next flight home. I was outraged. Apparently, the consumption of alcoholic beverages is confined to resorts only. And even then, it is obscenely expensive. The importation of alcohol is illegal. As is homosexuality. I'm not sure though how you do one without the other. But I digress.
Boarding commences. As I hoof it back up the mobile staircase, I can see Herman looking down at me in bewilderment.
"Mr Eightback, what are you doing here?"
"Did you forget something?"
"No"
"What are you doing then?"
"Going back to Dubai"
"Are you serious?"
"Yes, deadly"
"What on earth for?"
No later than 2-minutes pass and Ung1's ugly face appears in the cabin. He decides to join me on the quick turn. By this stage, Herman and the rest of the crew are apoplectic. They are convinced we work for EK as some sort of undercover researchers. Ung1 patiently tries to explain to Herman what FT is all about and what a Mileage Run is. He is unmoved. And definitely unconvinced.
Push back is a simple process of removing the portable stairs, a lot of people on the ground running off into the nearby trees and the EK Captain giving the 2 massive GE engines a boot-full of Jet-A and letting just under 130,000 pounds of thrust do the work of turning the wide-body. We're airborne in seconds.
The seat belt light goes off and I hear that soothing sound of the Dom cork popping and champagne flutes clinking. Herman appears. With glass and bottle in hand.
He seems more relaxed now. Maybe he's had a glass himself. Still doesn't buy our story but nevertheless - happy to chat about our insane adventure. Which is now 3 quarters complete.
I sit there, slightly jealous of the view and what we have left behind…
It's good to be in F. And I'm glad I'm in this tribe...
Last edited by eightblack; May 27, 2011 at 11:30 pm