First Class to No Class


After a year of diligently collecting United miles, Jordan finally made premier status in time for the holidays. As much as I mocked his game of counting miles like they were one hundred dollar bills, I didn’t realize what great perks came with being premier. On the way to Chicago I had more leg room than I thought possible and, when we got to our destiantion, our bags were the first through the baggage claim, riding tall and proud with little red tags revealing their priority status.

That alone was enough for me…until we flew back to San Diego. On the first leg of the trip, we got bumped to business class. On a 777, business class means seats that recline to horizontal, personal TVs, free alcohol, a foot rest, a blanket and a warm cookie after dinner. We figured we got pretty lucky on that leg so we didn’t expect much from the second. But, once again, we got bumped to first class: Big seats, more free drinks and a coat check. I haven’t been that comfortable on a flight, well, probably ever.

I walked off the plane praising Jordan and he walked off the plane like a hero.

It was late when we arrived so we went straight from the airport to the marina, where his 22-foot Capri was docked. The plan was to sleep on the boat one last night before starting our trek north. It is, after all, the boat that brought us together, the boat where we fell in love. We thought sleeping on board would be a romantic way to spend our last night in San Diego.

It’s also a boat without a bathroom, and Jordan waited until we pulled into the parking lot at 11:30 p.m. to tell me he didn’t have a key to the marina.

That’s how, in just a few short hours, I went from flying first class to peeing in a plastic cup.

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