The promise of a giant tip managed to shut him up and mercifully soon we were drawing up in front of George Bush Intercontinentals Terminal D, from where all non-Continental international flights depart. Terminal D gets a bad press, but I found no problem checking in at the single FIRST desk. Online check in had been down earlier in the day, and in any case the absence of a printer meant that the print-your-own boarding card function was not an option. Still, the boarding card noting seat 2K (the best in the house according to most) was received gratefully into my paws, and I headed over to security.
Now Ive been one of the more outspoken TSA critics within this parish, but I have to say that they were unfailingly courteous and straightforward, even telling me why they were secreting a handful of coins in my rucksack (to check density on the X-ray machine, apparently). And so, clutching a handful of mysteriously acquired quarters, I made my way of the escalator to the departure areas, and a brisk turn right led me down to gate D9.
BAs lounges at IAH are a pair: the Terraces lounge on the left and the FIRST (and Gold card holders) lounge across the concourse on the right. I headed for the FIRST lounge where I was the earliest entrant into the haven of FIRST tranquillity, broken only by the rantings of the CNN presenters on the flat screen TVs. Here I was joined by a ragtag bunch of businessmen: happily I stood out in my combat trousers and camouflage shirt (if that makes sense!) as someone unprepared to follow convention. Or maybe I just stood out as someone who was staying in a hotel with a 1pm checkout time?
So I cooked up a killer batch of Bloody Marys and watched with increasing incredulity at George W Bush defending US actions in Iraq. As someone once said about a former president, it must be shaming to have someone as president who has to be pointed out to intelligent foreigners lest they ignore him as some kind of homespun yokel. And frankly GW is unlikely to go down in history in the same breath as Abe Lincoln. Of course, theres only so much pleasure (a lot!) you can derive from hurling abuse and the offensive sign language of many cultures at the TV, so soon I repaired to a table to chomp my way through some excellent sandwiches and slurp down tomato juice liberally laced with Smirnoff blue.
The lounge didnt exactly fill up: by the time I left to go shopping (I fancied a Stetson but none were large enough to accommodate my giant head) there were six of us, so maybe first class was not going to be too full. As I had woken up at 3:30am that morning had I decided to try and stay awake long enough to get a good nights sleep, so a brisk walk around the terminal seemed in order. Mind you, Terminal D at Houston is what more pretentious types might call a cultural desert. Only Houston Rockets (some sort of sporting team, Id hazard) T-shirts were in evidence, and the lack of anything decent to read in the bookshop drove me back to the gate.
A few minutes later and the flight was called for pre-boarding. Having grown used to Virgins insistence on calling Upper Class and Premium Economy passengers explicitly I hesitated for a pico-second before striding manfully towards the gate agent with a knowing smirk on my face. Elbowing aside all manner of families, children and aged and infirm types*, I was soon on the ramp and first onto the plane.
If any cabin crew are reading this, dont you just hate it when the guy in the premium cabin appears first? There you are, having a garrulous conversation in the aisle at the front of the plane, and a looming figure clutching a first class boarding pass appears out of the distant haze demanding champagne, a sleep suit and all manner of attention. Id even managed to gain a hanger-on attempting to show me to my seat as the cabin crew scattered like frightened chicken and the purser emerged from the galley shamefaced with profuse apologies.
As on the outbound trip, 2K was my berth for the night, but the absence of no more than a few people in the FIRST lounge was borne out by only six of us in the front cabin. I was quick to snag a glass (or two) of the excellent Alfred Gratien champagne and also a sleep suit size large which was big enough to accommodate the Cats baboon like arms and six foot plus frame. Changing into a sleep suit before the engines have even started can be a little nerve-wracking I remember a Virgin flight from JNB going tech at the critical moment leaving me in my PJs in the terminal but soon we were pushing back and the engines powering up.
I took the opportunity of a fairly long taxi to the terminal to engage in a little banter with the guy serving my side of the cabin which was inhabited by only two passengers. But once we had levelled off one of the first officers came back and settled into 4K leaving only 3K and the central six seats vacant. I did manage to lay claim to seat 2F across the aisle and my member of the cabin crew was as keen as mustard to convert it into my sleeping accommodation, even to the extent of shooing me away when I attempted to get involved.
Dinner service also had the same attention to detail. I was tempted by the lobster with wasabi dressing but plumped for the onion soup as a starter instead. And the Thai chicken salad even if the lamb rogan josh was horribly tempting. And as I had learnt on the way out, in BA FIRST the freedom-style service really does mean that you can eat what you want, when you want. I asked for my food to be served straight away, and immediately a flurry of activity was evident behind the galley curtain with my tray table being set within 40 minutes of take off and the soup following soon after.
Yes, I know there were only six of us in a cabin meant for 14. And only two of us on the starboard side of the cabin, but oh what a great service: attentive, unobtrusive, and with that mind-reading quality that just knows when you need a top up of champagne, an extra pillow or a solicitous question. I know that Virgin go for a different ambience, and maybe I am getting old, but on this showing, and particularly for an overnight flight, BA first class service beats Virgin Upper Class every time.
The onion soup arrived with a glass of the viognier, or rather with a bottle of the viognier and an invitation to taste the wine prior to a full glass being poured. At the risk of sounding like one of the Master Chef judges (and by the way Dean was cruelly robbed in the most recent series), the soup was a little under-seasoned, but nothing that application of the salt and pepper grinder could not put right. Other than that it was very good indeed with the richness of the underlying stock coming though on the palate, complemented perfectly by the crunchiness of the croutons.
My soup plate was whisked away and my Thai chicken salad arrived quickly as my bank of three windows started reflecting a pink horizon. The salad had a spicy Thai dressing served separately, but not being shy I felt compelled to tip it all in. All I can say is zowie. A huge zing from the chargrilled limes, the spice from the dressing and the slightly chargrillled texture of the chicken all served up a taste sensation. And the wine (more viognier) was rather good too.
So, Virgin offering first class service at a business class price? Sorry Dicky, but I think not. Only the lounge and in-flight entertainment (and only for ex-LHR routes) was demonstrably better. In every other department: seat, service, food, amenity kit, wine and so on, BA FIRST exceeds Virgins offering.
So, with a selection of cheeses and a glass of excellent port I sank down into my plushly upholstered seat and gazed serenely out at the darkening skies. Soon it was time to snooze, and after a brief trip to the washroom to remove my eyes I settled down across the aisle for a few hours sleep, using the trick of sleeping on top of the duvet for padding, particularly as the 777 doesnt have any air vents and as always it was too hot in the cabin.
Before too long my body clock had sounded its insistent alarm clock and I was awake. I decided on breakfast which appeared as if by magic. Clearly nothing less than the full English would suffice, and despite slightly dry scrambled eggs this was both filling and tasty. A juice, a coffee and a warm croissant all crossed my table on the way into my ravenous maw a breakfast Ive only had bettered in SQ First.
Gatwick was frozen at -4C in clear air and bright sunshine, and we landed a little early, the attentive crew ensuring that the people at the front got off first. Immigration was easy, although the presence of a huge number of aged Americans in bright yellow sweatshirts, each with a name tag attached (whether this was to remind themselves of their own name wasnt clear), made traversing the area a little difficult. There is something about the assurance and lack of embarrassment of old age matched with the noise of an American that isnt the best thing to hear at 7am on a cold Gatwick morning. As I stood waiting (and waiting for about 20 minutes) for the carousel to be displayed my sense were assaulted not only by the colour of their jerseys but by shouted conversations about pills and bathroom visits.
Unfortunately Houston handlers (I guess) had managed to rip off my FIRST tag which meant my bag came out more or less last. It wasnt a full flight so this wasnt too big a deal and before long I struggled through customs to emerge blinking in the sunlight at the departure level. Instead of sampling the delights of the BA arrivals lounge (not a proper lounge just space in the Le Meridien hotel) I headed for the NCP valet parking to pick up my freshly washed car and head up the M23 into town.
So, that completed my FIRST experience. From memory (and it was a long, long time ago that I flew FIRST previously) it seems as good as ever. Sure, the suites are perhaps a little long in the tooth, but the only negative points I can think of are iffy baggage handling and the lack of a modern in-flight entertainment system. In the same way that Club World is a large leap ahead of World Traveller, so FIRST is streets ahead of BAs business class product. And way ahead of VS in most departments too. However, if you have an idle moment just think what Virgin could do if they were prepared to create a first class as well as Upper
BC
*I would like to point out that no families, children or aged and infirm types were actually harmed in the making of this trip report. Well, not badly
