Why Me?

Call it the luck of the draw. Call it a bullet with my name on it. Call it someone whose time has come. Call it Fate, Chance, Karma, Kismet, Feng Shui. Call it Oh No, Not Me Again, Why Did They Pick Me, Why Did It Have To Be Me . . . . in reverse. Call it The Word Of God. Call it anything you goddamn want. Call it What The Fucking Fuck. But why the hell did they bump me up to First Class . . . again?

It began as most flights do, but with a difference: this was the day after Easter. Every Tremblay in the phone book was gonna be on Flight 760 from San Francisco to Montreal, and I was dreading it. Imagine my horror when I checked in, only to be told there wasn't a single window seat available! That means "really, really full, dude."

So I whipped out my usual Aeroplan wheedle, waving totally useless upgrade coupons (you practically have to buy a full-fare ticket to use one) and generally trying to charm the hell out of the agent. Needless to say, it didn't work. He told me to try at the gate for a window seat. So, a couple of glasses of wine later. I approached the gate agent and gave her my boarding card. She said she'd call me. Just before boarding, she did. She gave me a new boarding card and I thanked her. Then we started boarding. I looked at my card and saw "4E." "That's can't be right," I thought. "That's all the way . . . in the front!"

And so it was. I had to double-check with the purser. "You wanna complain?" he said a bit snidely, but oh, no, I so did not want to complain.

So, for the second time in as many trips with Air Canada, I flew first class. Free-flowing Chardonnay. Herbed chicken with green beans and baby potatoes. Haagen Daaz ice cream. A nice Bailey's Irish Cream to finish.

I don't think I'll ever be able to fly economy again . . .