This is a Trip Report from the Upper Class cabin
Ground Staff
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Happily the limo from Boston Coach turned up exactly on time, and the 40 minute drive to Dulles was uneventful enough. Check in followed suit, with the agent reminding me that seat 2K was up the front and that I should eat in the lounge. This trip was the first time in recent memory I was actually checking luggage on the return, and helpfully the checked bags were taken to the TSA for screening by airport staff, rather than requiring a traipse across the concourse.
Then it was time to brave the security queues. With true TSA style only half the security checkpoints were working, with huge queues building up as a result. Youd also think that our American cousins would have worked out that post 9-11 security tends to involve government ID, but the message had clearly not got through to some people. Youd also expect people to have become adept at removing coats and shoes and putting laptops in a separate container for the x-ray machine. But despite the large TSA person bellowing instructions at regular intervals, interspersed with a pre-recorded security announcement, some people were clearly not getting the message.
Naturally your correspondent displayed the timing for which he is known at airports worldwide: 5 people in front means untie the laces of my clumpy walking shoes (definitely profile), 3 people in front means remove the laptop and tuck it under one arm, and as I near the belt its time to slip the coat from my shoulders and grab a couple of the plastic trays. And naturally anything metallic is in my carry on and Im not even wearing a metal belt.
But a hop and a skip through the metal detector and Im struggling to pull on my shoes and replace my laptop with everyone else. The airport authorities clearly dont care too much about the knock-on effects: a few chairs are all they provide, and the space between security check and terminal wall (this time well-populated with sniffer dogs) means that a crush is almost inevitable. Sure, I know why the US administration believes this is a good idea, but I dont have to like the experience.
Barrelling down the escalator to concourse B is always a joy since some people still seem to prefer the mobile lounge to a brisk trot. Without wishing to ascribe a horror of walking to every American, the looks I got in the morning when I took a brisk walk across the Potomac to my last meeting do seem to portray a predilection for motorised transport rather than shankss pony.
The IAD lounge is directly opposite the Virgin gate, and I found only a couple of people in before me. The menu was different from last time, so I headed for the steak sandwich (rather good, if a little overdone) washed down by copious draughts of Sam Adams ale. Unfortunately the technology was playing up (my not so shiny IBM laptop needs a good rebuild, or maybe a wholesale replacement now that single core processors are strictly yesterdays news) so I had to resort to the internet stations in the corner of the lounge. The user interface is rather clunky but a quick perusal of company email and then everyones favourite flying site was easy enough.
Before too long I was back at the bar watching illustrated playlets on the television regarding everything from heavy menstrual bleeding to constipation and haemorrhoids. Am I being unnecessarily interested or do the vast majority of medication adverts seem to focus south of the belly button? Anyway, it was a useful distraction from the usual set of Upper Class flyers: most were male, aged between 35 and 50, and wearing their casual clothes having stripped out of their suits. And yes, I fitted right in, even if I am proud to say that my casual attire was by far the most technical (many, many pockets in the trousers), unnecessary (no one really needs walking shoes to stomp round an airport, do they?) and suave (a black designer shirt matched with Craghoppers is the in thing this season, believe me).
Sartorial psychoses aside, I was glad to suck on my fifth Sam Adams as I considered wandering out into the terminal. The IAD lounge does a preboarding announcement as well as another after the other classes have boarded, so I contented myself with looking out at the mobile lounges and the odd KLM and Alitalia jet as they wandered across the panorama view of the main terminal.
Dusk fell and the firefly lights of the main terminal mixed serenely with the floodlights illuminating the tower and the safety lighting on the cranes constructing the new inter-concourse train. I do find airports an enchanting sight at night: pools of light from the gates and the planes themselves; white, red amber, blue and green lights on the ground; and weird shadows making jetways look like helicopters and mobile lounges like moon rovers. Or perhaps my Sam Adams had been spiked? Given that a recent combination of exhaustion and an unpleasant liver virus had led to my hearing my cats talking and the odd animated conversation with historical figures, anything was possible
Finally I decided that I did have time to hop out of the lounge at 6pm to wander around Borders sniggering at the self help books. I did manage to find one called Learning to Love Yourself, but as any teenage boy knows, some things are just instinctive and certainly dont require a book to teach you. By the time my guffaws had subsided it was 6:15 and time to wander back to the gate which had just opened for pre-boarding. The announcement was only for families, but I stomped forward nonetheless and had the pleasure of being first onto the plane. Behind me in short order came the usual cast of business types followed by, horror of horrors, a family with two very young girls under the age of five. Happily they stowed themselves in the rear section of Upper Class not in the Snooze Zone (I would hope that small children are banned there) but their squawking and crying were quite audible at times.
As with the outbound flight, Soul Sister (G-VBLU) has its front WC on the right just ahead of my position in 2K, rather than on the left as denoted by the VS online seat map. Again it wasnt too intrusive, but perhaps I will go back to my usual 11A for A346 day flights and then move a couple of rows back on overnights. Soul Sister had only been with Virgin for a week or so, and the suites looked fresh and new, with the update style of table that gives you far more knee room and lets you leave your suite too. A big improvement, although the action was rather stiff and it remains to be seen how well the new design works in practice.
For once I was offered a second glass of champagne before take off. I love it when that happens: the sight of freely flowing bubbles adds immeasurably to the experience, and the fact that the Laurent-Perrier is actually drinkable is very good news. There were a couple of IFBTs on the flight, but I declined the option of treatment. It is worth making one point about this service on night flights though: it seems supremely daft to have people traipsing through the front of the cabin to the treatment area when the whole point of the Snooze Zone is that foot traffic is minimised. A new cabin design is clearly warranted!
Push back was early at just before 7pm, with loads seemingly fairly light in Upper Class (only 9 of us were in the Snooze Zone) and very light in Economy. Premium Economy was more full, but this was clearly a flight where an A343 could have sufficed. Then it was a quick order in for a large Glenmorangie (full marks for a full glass!) and a few cheese straws on the side, and then time to make up the suite into a bed. Or at least so I thought.
Unfortunately the seatback stubbornly refused to come down, flashing a stow ottoman message. After a couple of minutes pushing the ottoman back and forth, playing with its seatbelt, making sure there were no obstructions and gently swearing under my breath, I gave in and asked the FSM to take a look. She was as equally puzzled by the warning light, and couldnt find her manuals to check. She and a colleague were also frustrated in their attempts to convert the bed manually. Eventually they gave up and directed me to a suite close by. They didnt offer to move my things though, so I was reduced to porting my bits and pieces across on my own not a particularly onerous task, but an offer of help would have been appreciated.
Then to sleep, with a second pillow pilfered from an unoccupied suite helping to support my head, and a second duvet ameliorating the hard sleeping surface. I managed about 3 hours, which is pretty good for me. However, as someone taller than 6 ft you really do need to squeeze yourself into the far corner of the suite if your feet are not going to jam up against the side of the ottoman.
I moved back to my original seat when we were about two hours out, with some more episodes of The Green Wing for entertainment, and a mug of coffee as breakfast. I was vacillating as to whether I would use Revivals, and the memory of the unpleasant frittata and mushrooms the last time I flew on the VS22 was still sharp in my mind: having two items on the plate looking like vomit is hardly the best way to start the day. In fact this particular culinary feast has disappeared from the menu which now only had bacon rolls as the hot item. I think this is a tad poor: most other airlines will give some semblance of a cooked breakfast in their premium cabins, but not Virgin it seems.
Landing was smooth and early, with a cold wind blowing through West London. As usual we ended up with a 1,000m walk from gate to immigration. And as usual there was a huge queue of bedraggled British citizens and a very small queue of foreign nationals. Still, the queue disappeared fairly quickly and by the time I made it through to the carousel my bag had evidently just appeared.
I eschewed the delights of Revivals and made straight to the limo transfer desk, grabbing a driver quickly and then beginning the long crawl into town on the M4. A brief shower at home and I hit the roads again in my car; I was in the office by 9am and as of 2pm my vital signs are flagging. Soon time to go back home and attempt to stay awake until a reasonable time this evening, methinks.
A good flight back, but not great. I do hope that minor suite improvements are not always going to be accompanied by the teething troubles that I experienced. Even though I didnt eat it, the absence of a decent cooked breakfast on the menu was disappointing, so food gets marked down once again. Full marks though for the guys up front: a smooth transatlantic crossing, delicate landing and early arrival at the gate made for a pleasurable flying experience.
BC
