I am flying.
I am sitting in the comfort of my fancy, black leather seat, laptop open, and writing this blog.
I arrived at the airport a few hours earlier for the second time in a month. I know, I know, I love this place. Besides, after such a long separation from travel we have a lot of catching up to do.
I walked into Terminal 3 of Los Angeles Airport to meet a scene quite unlike that of last month’s. There were flowers in vases, fancy carpets, and cute pink mood lighting. Beyonce’s Sweet Dreams was playing in the background. Everyone was young and attractive.
Was this a party? Did I make a wrong turn and end up in some swanky lounge?
My confused thoughts were interrupted by a soft and courteous voice. “Where are you traveling tonight?” he asked, then escorted us to exactly where we needed to be. I guess I didn’t make a wrong turn after all–this was flight check-in for Virgin America.
I couldn’t believe it.
Everything was perfect. There were no long lines, no broken kiosks, no people rolling luggage over my feet, no screaming babies; none of it.
Even the bag tags were cute. Just under my name, the tag had a line for ‘Favorite Thing.’ My favorite thing?! How special that the luggage tag and its affiliates want to get to know me!
I had barely enough time to write names on three luggage tags, and it was my turn to check in. The attendant was friendly, pleasant, and efficient (yes, I might not believe it either if I didn’t witness it first hand). This must be some sort of alternate universe; one where no one needs to curse. She handed me a neat little boarding card with just the important information on it, and small enough to fit right into my passport/pocket/other convenient location.
And the coolness didn’t stop there. The headphones were pink, the flight crew was hip, and the captain proposed to his girlfriend. Yes–a full on proposal, ring, one knee, tears, kissing, clapping and all–right in the middle of his captain’s welcome speech. It was beautiful.
This plane is amazing.
I can even shop from the slick screen in front of me! Seat-to-seat chat?! Wow, this would be perfect for sending a message to the cute guy/girl seated ten rows ahead, provided that you scoped out their EXACT seat number. It would not be nice to mistakenly send your flirtations to the old man snoring, mouth agape, in the seat next to them.
But there’s really just not that much excitement in my life, so I sent a message to my mother. In the seat next to me. Sigh. Well, at least there is no annoying person near me making audible reactions to their reading. But that may just be because I am well acquainted with both of the passengers in my row, and there is no social etiquette preventing me from looking over and saying, “Shhh!”
This is how flying should always be.
And for those of you lucky enough to have flown Virgin before, please excuse my naiveté, it was only my first time. But seriously–Coolest. Plane. Ever.
I am flying.