One of the best reports E_V_E_R_!!!

:D

If you’ve never been on a private jet, an empty upper deck of a Lufthansa 747 comes pretty close. Ok, so I had to share it with someone in 82C, but he was one of those boring HON circle types that slept, ate, and kept to himself throughout the flight.

I should warn you that this is going to be a long installment, and one with many pictures. Partly because even I was almost completely satisfied, and partly because everything goes downhill from here. Seriously. I’m going to hide from the world and never show anyone my face ever again, let alone post pictures online!

Now where were we? Ah yes, the sanctity of the FCL, where I was finishing up a Skype conversation with my mum. I hadn’t heard from the folks in two weeks of travel, and while I was pleasantly surprised they hadn’t called in to check, I was starting to think they’d forgotten I existed. As it turned out, they hadn’t. Not after my dad received the credit card bill, anyway.

I marched across the terminal to gate B 28. The original gate was B 25, but there was a last minute swap, and now my boarding pass has an ugly scribble all over it. I’ll probably have to fly LH First again to get a pristine boarding pass for my collection (and why on earth do they number the seats from 81? Whatever was wrong with 1 A/K and so forth?)

http://i41.tinypic.com/qzmc29.jpg

Enter the aircraft to be greeted by an FA who wishes me an enjoyable flight and sends me up the stairs, which lead up to the First galley. I take one look at Mr. 82C and know the cabin is mine! A couple of FAs are busy in the galley. They smile, but don’t immediately come to check my boarding pass. Good, they believe that I belong here.

One of the FAs (who did the service in the cabin throughout the flight) comes over and asks if I’d like a drink (champagne!). I’m not quite sure what the other FA did actually. I only saw her walking up and down the aisle throughout the flight, though every time she did so, without fail, she had this bright, happy smile on her face. The kind that would be uplifting when you’re stuck in the middle in Economy with nothing to do for 9 hours because there are no PTVs.

Yea about that. Wasn’t it Lufthansa that was complaining about Emirates stealing their market share between India and the US or something? Did it occur to them that actually giving people something to do for 9 hours might encourage them to fly the airline, and that maybe, just maybe, it was the hard product and not free petrol that were causing them all this trouble. And to be perfectly honest, EK’s First product is much nicer than Lufthansa’s (on this aircraft, anyway). Take a look at this TV screen for example. It’s the First TV. Strangely, Business Class had bigger ones. For which the FA was profusely apologetic. But like she said, “they don’t get caviar, and they don’t get me!”

http://i44.tinypic.com/260wmfd.jpg

I want to get my opinion of the hard product over with, because it really wasn’t a lot to write home about. Having two seats to yourself (well, 8 in my case), is great, but otherwise the seat doesn’t go completely flat, and there’s not much privacy. The great thing though is that the meal tray not only slides forward, but angles away creating enough space for the passenger to leave their seat even while the table is laid out. I hate getting trapped inside.

Once my glass of Laurent Perrier 2000 had been served with some nuts, the goodies started to arrive. Slippers, socks, an amenity kit, and a Van Laack sweater. That’s right, sweater, no PJs. Wouldn’t it be silly to fly halfway across the world and only get one set of PJs? I thought so too!
“Would you happen to have some pyjamas? Err.. I put mine in the checked-in bag by mistake.”
“Sorry sir, not on this flight. They’re only offered on the return as it’s an overnight flight.”
“So you have them onboard…”
“Yes, but if they only have 8 and the flight back is full I’m afraid I can’t give you a pair, but let me check.”
And bingo, 2 minutes later, I had a pair of pyjamas. This time, I even took a photo. And I know what you’re thinking – LH has terrible lighting in their lavatories.

http://i42.tinypic.com/20kq58m.jpg


Once we’d taken off, I did my customary stroll of the aircraft. F was 2/8, C was only 32/80 but Y was completely full. The way it should be, unlike all my previous F flights! Safely ensconced in 83C again (well, technically I was sitting in 83A), I proceeded to lay claim to the entire row of seats in the cabin. Here’s how it worked. 83A was my TV and dining seat. 83C was for clothes, personal items and such. 83K is where I had my bed made up so I could sleep as and when I pleased. And 83H was the backup seat. In case I needed to sit down between moving seats, or one of the other seats went kaput. Or if I just felt like sitting in a different seat. See the pictures below.

http://i42.tinypic.com/3499zsz.jpg

http://i44.tinypic.com/1z7101h.jpg

Once I was settled, it was time for lunch. Don’t read the following if you are currently hungry. It will probably make you salivate, and it will probably also take a very long time to read. Go, grab yourself a snack, and then come back and read the next post.

Just this once, I’m going to post a write up of the entire menu, and post pictures of everything I ate. For a couple of reasons. This is probably one flight on which I actually did justice to the food and ate more than an anorexic 16 year old would. It’s also because I know Top of Climb will be cringing looking at this menu. In fact, if anyone holds a grudge against him, put him on a really long flight to India – everything seems to have tomato in it. Here you go:

Menu

Choice of Hors d’oeuvres

Caviar with the traditional Garnishes

Grilled Scallops on Tomato and Apple Confit

Carpaccio of Roast corn-fed-Poulard with marinated Chanterelles

Chickpea Salad, Cauliflower in Chickpea Batter with Ginger, Chili and Curry

Salad or Sorbet

Seasonal Leaf Salad with Herb Mushrooms, Pumpkin Juliennes and sun-dried Tomatoes with your Choice of Balsamic or Potato Dressing

Or

Green Apple Sorbet presented with Champagne upon your Request

Choice of Main Courses

Coq au Vin of corn-fed-Poulard, fresh Vegetables and Tagliatelle Pasta

Filet of Sea Bass with Mediterranean Vegetables served in Parchment

Indian Cream Cheese in a hot Tomato and Pepper Sauce, Pea and Cashew Curry, black Lentils in Tomato Mash and Basmati Rice with Saffron, Raita Pomegranate

Lamb Ragout in a hot Papaya Sauce, Spinach and Peas with Fenugreek, yellow Lentils in Tomato Ragout, Basmati Rice and black Chickpeas

Selection of Cheese and Dessert

Gorgonzola, Pecorino, Brie, Rahmberg and Banon Goat cheese served with Apricot Mustard, Grapes and Cashew Nuts

Chestnut Mousse Tartlet with marinated Plums

Fresh Fruit with Mango Kulfi


I usually have a hard time making silly decisions like whether to eat the dish with tomatoes or not. But in this case, I didn’t really read past the caviar. So, caviar it was for starters, scooped out very nicely by the lovely FA, and served with another glass of Laurent Perrier.

http://i40.tinypic.com/x1hg1f.jpg

She came around and asked if I’d like anything else. I told her I hadn’t bothered to read the rest of the starters. She suggested some scallops. How could I possibly refuse?

http://i40.tinypic.com/sbt3t2.jpg

I was then asked what kind of dressing I’d like with my salad. Tough life. I decided I’d go with the sorbet instead – whether I wanted champagne on it wasn’t such a hard decision. I asked if she had some, first she said no, then she said yes, and then she said I should have both.

http://i40.tinypic.com/358owsm.jpg

http://i40.tinypic.com/2q3qgm1.jpg

Now, just before the meal service, the FA asked what I’d like to drink with my main course. I opened the wine list, was indecisive as usual, and she probably lost the will to live. She suggested a wine tasting, and I’m not quite sure she understood the consequences of plying me with that much wine. Thankfully, however, she recommended a Riesling that I loved the moment it had touched my tongue (after I’d sniffed it and rolled it around my mouth, of course, how unpretentious would it be not to do that?).

For the main course I went with the coq au vin. Not as interesting as ostrich steak, but I’d already had sea bass on an earlier flight. The chicken was good, but the pasta was terribly dry. Not like I wanted to waste space in my stomach with pasta, so I didn’t mind.

http://i41.tinypic.com/dpaek4.jpg

I think I was ready to pass out at this point and might have taken a little nap. It was like hitting the pause button (which I did do with my movie), and then pressing play again, and having to choose between dessert and cheese. Or, well, just have both. “And which one would you like first, sir?” I decided at this point that I would need to start carrying a coin that I could flip to make decisions for me. You know, one that gives the answer you’re hoping for.

The dessert was excellent. I loved the marinated plums and the mousse, and accompanied it with a sweet white wine the FA suggested I have.

http://i41.tinypic.com/154h7pg.jpg

And that was followed with some delicious cheeses, accompanied with a great Port.

http://i40.tinypic.com/xo1q3o.jpg


Which almost brings us to the end of the meal service. The other FA then came by to offer chocolates. Now I had to choose from about 6 different flavors. “This one please.” “And? Only one?” she said, sounding quite disappointed. “Three is a good number. Have three.” I confess though that I only managed two. Maybe I should have asked for a doggy bag.

The great thing about a 9 hour flight is that one can spend plenty of time eating, and then sleeping, and then eating some more. When I was presented with the dinner menu (quite fancy, don’t you think? EK has changed their J class menus to look like this), I was still full from my previous meal and 5 glasses (or was it 10) of wine (not to mention the two at the FCT). I ate little, but it was all very well executed with a cart being rolled around and a wide choice of food being offered.

http://i44.tinypic.com/r0xxc9.jpg

Then, just for kicks, I went downstairs and sat on a C seat in the almost empty second cabin. Then I reclined the seat. Then I put it in bed mode. I won’t say more, but I’m never flying LH C class. Ever.

I think what really stood out about this flight was the friendliness of the crew and their willingness to do anything to keep me occupied. Secretly, I’m sure they wanted to put me in restraints so I’d stop walking around, or give me enough to drink so I’d pass out for the whole flight, but they were truly a pleasure to interact with.

As we started our descent into Bangalore, I realized that nothing on the rest of this trip, or perhaps ever, would match up to this. Nothing that I can afford after my credit card limit was ‘adjusted’, anyway. I need to either stop flying, only fly Y because nothing else will compare, or, as neither seems like a viable option, jump off a plane. Or something like that.

Up next, my attempt at an international transit in Bangalore, and having to face the parents. Stay tuned.

An international transit at BLR!!!!!.LOL this is getting more and more interesting. Your moms diagnosis seems to be right.:D:D

Thanks for the update. The food looks great.

Hahaha, great post!

Thanks for your support and encouragement everyone, really appreciate it!

I'm sorry if that was crossing the line, there was no intention to be insensitive. I've edited the post.

Super-entertaining. I get excited when I see there's a new report. Ung1, keep it up! ^

Waiting for the BLR trip report. I'm sure you would have enjoyed the 'Indian Red tape' experience. :D

No worries - I love the edit! The concept of homeless shelters in Monaco is amusing.... :D

That sounds highly suggestive ;)

Great TR! Now fingers crossed they will 'cavity search' you again in BLR!!
Haha!

I was hoping for pics so we could understand the whole situation. We saw the pic of the caviar ...

hey you got to see the pyjamas too! I will post a pic of the Thai ones. Eventually.

As for the FA, what can I say, but that this was on a European airline. There's some things the Middle Eastern carriers get right ;)

Another great instalment, and the perfect thing to bat away the depression caused by 4 pm twilight here in the UK! Looking forward to the nightmare DEL transit you've foreshadowed.

Anyone who wants to supply me with a LH F seat to India and back is most welcome. Just PM me. I'll even eat tomato for it.

If you’ve ever tried doing an international transit in India (actually, if you’ve ever tried doing anything remotely bureaucratic in India), don’t. It’s the most complicated, chaotic, inefficient and annoying country to fly into or out of, and as it turns out, even flying via the country is a big headache.

I blame this whole episode on lsed. When I told him about my proposed itinerary, he said all the First Class flying was all well and good, but to spice up the experience a little bit I should ride the Million Passenger Train. If you’re not familiar with it, it looks something like this.

http://i40.tinypic.com/kew0m1.jpg

As it so happens, these are the local trains in Mumbai. But I was flying to Bangalore. Of course, there was no way in hell I would get onto one of those trains, but I thought I could get away with an intercity First Class train ride and maybe photoshop the proof to look like I’d been on the MPT.

As luck would have it, my plans were ruined the day before I was to depart from Singapore, when I found out I had family visiting in Dubai, and if I went straight back to DXB from BLR, I’d just about manage to spend a day with them. And I thought this would be easy enough.

I got off the plane at BLR and found a door with a big sign over it that said International Transit. I was almost impressed, till I found the door to be locked. There was an X-ray machine and metal detector inside, but no one manning it. I caught hold of one of the people twiddling their thumbs at the arrival gate. It turned out that the ground staff had not received any information from Lufthansa, and until they did, they couldn’t do anything. Explaining to them that I was on two separate tickets didn’t help.

If I wasn’t annoyed enough that I had to wait for the 500 people on the jumbo jet to all get off before I could be assisted, it didn’t help when this gentleman’s supervisor’s supervisor was called in who called her supervisor on the phone, only to eventually tell me that unlocking this door required no less than ten (maybe twenty) approvals and requests and why didn’t I just clear immigration and customs and go back to check in?

I think they sort of missed the point. I didn’t want to clear immigration and customs and check in and immigration and security. I wanted to get straight to the gate. It was 1 am, and my next flight was at 4 am. Hardly perky at that time of day. I eventually relented and made my way to immigration. At least a couple more stamps on the passport would make the ordeal worth it. Or so I thought.

The first mistake I made was to note down my local address on the immigration card as ‘transit’. That’s apparently a big no-no. I walk up to the immigration counter:

‘Where are you coming from?’
‘Frankfurt’
‘Why did you go there?’
‘On holiday’
‘Who is there in Frankfurt’
‘No one’
‘You were traveling alone? Isn’t that boring?’
‘No, it isn’t. I have friends around Europe, I was visiting them’

‘Where are you going to stay?’
‘I’m in transit. I wanted to go through that door but it’s locked so they asked me to clear immigration. I’m going back to check in.’
‘Where are you going to fly to then?’
‘Dubai’
‘Why are you flying via Bangalore? Why didn’t you fly direct’
‘Couldn’t get a flight’

‘Where do you live?’
‘Singapore’
‘What do you do there?’
‘I populate my dad’s bank account with financial black holes’
‘Why are you going to Dubai?’
‘To see family’
‘But you live in Singapore?’
‘Yes, but I have family in Dubai’

‘What does your father do?’
‘He’s an engineer – or that’s what he told me anyway’
‘Why is your family in Dubai?’
‘My brother goes to high school there’
‘Why Dubai? There’s great schools elsewhere too’
‘Mind your own f***ing business’

Ok, that’s not what I said to him. But I was getting very annoyed with his pseudo-friendly attempt to get me to divulge every secret in the family closet. I was visibly annoyed, because I didn’t see how any of this had anything to do with the fact that I had no desire to clear immigration, and that all I wanted to do was go to the lounge (how I would get in, I’m not quite sure).

Obviously, this behavior was suspicious. So I got sent for a secondary screening, where the new guy thought if he asked me enough times, I might decide to change my name. When that didn’t happen, and a supervisor had been called in to assess the situation, I was eventually cleared. First one off the aircraft, last one out of immigration. Even the crew beat me to it.

Anyway, one of the nice ladies escorted me to baggage claim, where an LH rep told me they had no through check in facilities at the airport and that I would need to clear customs and proceed to check in. Customs was fairly painless. But then I found myself out on the street.

If you’ve ever flown out of an Indian airport before, you’ll know that they don’t like to let people in unless you have a ‘ticket.’ I’m not quite sure what a ‘ticket’ is, because I travel with no documents except my passport. No e-tickets and e-boarding passes and all that. I usually remember when I have a flight, and never mind turning up a few hours early for some pre-flight beverages.

Thankfully, though, the security at the airport entrance had a manifest, with my name on it, and let me through.

I don’t know whether I mentioned that my next few flights were on Emirates. In Economy. On an A330, the worst aircraft in their fleet.

I still got to use First check in, and at least the check in agent was able to block the bassinet seat beside me. Then, upstairs, back to immigration, another long story (I tried to be a little less entertaining this time), through security, a pat down, and into the departure hall. I think traveling in and out of the USA is easier than this!

I found the only lounge in the airport, used by every airline that flies out of BLR. It’s a third party lounge, so they refused access based on my arriving Lufthansa First boarding pass. And based on my departing Emirates Economy boarding pass. A couple grand under the table might have worked, but it turns out this was not a pay-in lounge.

I caught hold of the Lufthansa ground staff at the gate for the flight back to FRA and explained my predicament to them.
‘I just got off the flight from FRA and I have a connecting flight in three hours and was hoping I could get access to the lounge.’
‘I’m afraid we only offer lounge access for our SEN and HON circle members, sir.’
‘But I flew in in First.’
‘Certainly sir, we’ll be happy to arrange for lounge access then.’

They were very nice about it, and I was very grateful to them for getting me in. Wasn’t quite as happy when I found out the lounge had 45 minutes of free wifi. Yea, 45 minutes after you register with your phone number and get some access code. And did I mention it was crowded. As in, two seats free in the whole lounge?

5 gin and tonics, and a couple of skype calls to b*tch about what had just happened (and to get friends’ phone numbers for new access codes) later, I was feeling a bit better.

When I eventually got to the boarding gate, about 4 people checked my boarding pass between the gate and the aircraft door. I’m not quite sure what they were checking to see, as it had about 10 stamps on it, from different authorities around the airport.

The flight itself was painfully uneventful. When I sat down and put my eye-shades on, I realized that I can probably navigate any EK aircraft with my eyes shut. And even though these A330 seats are extremely uncomfortable and I got not ten minutes of sleep on the longest 3h30 flight of my life, it was the first time my interaction with the crew was, shall we say, limited. It went along the lines of ‘Hello’ ‘Thank you’ ‘Thank you’ ‘No thanks’ ‘Thank you’ ‘Good bye’.

And of course I was greeted at DXB by an extremely long ‘fast track’ immigration queue. If snails had airports, their queues would move faster. You’re probably wondering what happened when I got home. I’ll save you the gory details. What did manage to get me excited though was a bottle of Dom Perignon 1990 that was sitting in the fridge, waiting for my arrival. So much for running around airports around the world looking for a good glass of bubbly!