First class to Japan

I hassled the check-in agent in Montreal this morning (this morning? Seems like two weeks ago) good-naturedly. I have a lot of Aeroplan miles, so I'm Elite. Imagine that! But then they sent me lots of coupons that tell me I can upgrade to First. Is life not great? So I hassled her and brandished the coupons, knowing that there wasn't a hope in hell, considering that you probably need a full-fare ticket to qualify for the upgrade, and that it was basically like shouting in the Grand Canyon.

And so it was. Montreal to Vancouver is a spiritless trek on Air Canada. There just isn't anything to recommend it. Foodwise, there is nothing to write about, except that there are exactly two (2) places to sate one's appetite at YUL if you're on your way to somewhere in Canada. Unbelievably pathetic--Moe's Bar and Grill and some tiny Bar at the End of the Universe near Gate 1 (not near where everyone's going at Gates 49 +).

This is an international airport? I've had better at Newark--far better.

But I digress. After the leg at YVR--cold hot dogs at the only "restaurant" in the International terminal, echoing Montreal's sparse hospitality--we boarded the flight to Osaka. About ten minutes after we were settled in 23 H a frazzled stewardess came up to me and told me I had to move up to 4 H. Well, that was good news, except I was having a great conversation with a cute Japanese mother across the aisle. Still, SuddenlySingle FlirtSchool notwithstanding, I and the little boy moved up to First Class.

So what's it like, you ask? Well, in three words or less, not that great.

The seats were vast and we had fun making them extend, expand and twirl, but apart from that, the food was boring--some sort of chicken dish and smoked salmon was all that was offered. But the major crime was that the champagne was far from free-flowing. In fact, it was like pulling teeth to get a glass of white wine--I actually preferred being back with the rabble, where at least I could pay for it. This way, they made you feel like a beggar for every refill.

I'm here for 24 hours—not quite enough for a food story. But I'll be on the job for the food blog!