Thursday, October 17, 2013

journey across the world

About to embark on a journey of epic proportions.

After just five days in California, I'm flying back to London tonight (12 hours across 9 timezones). This leg of the trip is undoubetdly the best, as I get to fly Upper Class on Virgin, and therefore, sleep. Eat food with real cutlery and lie flat in my flattering DVT socks.

After transversing the Atlantic, I then have eight hours to kill in Heathrow Airport.

Out of all the things in the world that sound like a total gas, that's gotta be up there with a spa weekend in Somerset, or say the Secret Garden Party after five doobies.

Eight hours in any airport is a total drag; I mean, after duty free perusal and impulse purchasing, where does one sleep? Or just relax? The only airport that's worthy of an 8 hour layover is Singapore. There's a pool on the roof, it's always over 30 degrees and they serve cocktails to you on sun loungers. We know, because we did it on honeymoon.

I figured - do I leave Heathrow to go home, only to have to turn around almost immediately to head back again, or, or, do I book myself into a YOTEL, yo.

It's a hotel inside in the airport with shower, bed, room service - basic facilities that keep you off the metal chairs in Departures - which means I could have a day in bed, inside the airport.

The prospect doesn't sound so bad after all.

Then, on tjthe final leg, I downgrade by two classes - not Upper to Business, which would be a far kinder decline a lady may be able to just about do. No. My special little 'Priority tag' shall get ripped off my suitcase and replaced with a Economy tag. From first to coach. 
All the way to Johannesburg.

It hurts to think about it too hard. I shant dare take my DVT socks off.

They say flying first class even just once ruins all flights going forward, because you can never really enjoy flying again unless it is of the same standard. Now I get to compare almost two identical journeys in the same airline (12 hours, overnight, on Virgin) in complete opposing classes.

I could write a review, you know. Tap into my freelance writing skills of past. Pen a detailed description of each class and send it to a magazine. A little freelance PR for Virgin maybe? In return, instead of paying me per word, they can pay me in an UPGRADE.

You hear that Virgin? A review. Payable by upgrade. Come on. You're the fun airline aren't you?

OK, so back in the room.

The light in the middle of this tunnel, is that my Brit will join me at Heathrow at the YOTEL (romantic, tres) and then we'll fly to Joburg together, hopefully to the awaiting arms of my mother and step-dad waving about a bag of fresh biltong of some description.

And then in South Africa we will be for five days.

I do love gong home. Even for what is really a long weekend.

1 comment:

Flirty 30 said...

Virgin really should have upgraded you - you called them fun - compliments should get you everywhere!
Enjoy your visit back here - I saw your pics on Instagram.
Mom's garden is baie pretty! ;-)