Still, it was only for a short time before my next mini adventure, this time a relatively mundane four hour hop to Hong Kong. I made my way to the gate, where the efficiency of Changi pervaded yet again. There was no queue at gate security and boarding along two separated jetways was immediate onto the 777-200.
From boarding to disembarkation, again it was always 'Mr Long'. I was greeted with another welcome Dom Perignon and, of course an obligatory hot towel - the first of at least four that I counted on this segment.
Seating was in the old 2-2-2 format with Lazy-Boy style recliners. Hardly a problem for such a short trip I thought - and so it proved. With only four pax onboard in F (I am pretty sure two of these were crew) and three crew for the cabin it wasn't going to be a struggle.
I made the minor mistake of choosing row one in this old style - of course, there's no where to pop your stuff during takeoff and landing other than the overhead lockers that I kept banging my head on.
Still, I was looking forward to dinner. Along came the menu and again caviar would normally be my choice but after by earlier experience I decided to do the curve ball and head for the scallops. My Book The Cook this time was a Peranakan chicken curry, and after the previous assured raving over the lobster thermidor that turned out to be a damp squid (sic), it was with some trepidation that I embarked on my new culinary delectations.
The scallop was a massive one in its shell a la Coquilles st Jacques like they do at Le Gavroche (OK not quite that good). But it was very good. No, it was better than that. It was bloody lovely. I matched with the Chablis again.
Then out came the curry with basmati rice. Oh my God. Superb!!! And with an uber well off-dry German Riesling. To die for. I mean it.
Out came the cheese board again. This time not as good as before with only three cheeses, and none really that strong, but at least they were on a board. Had to do it though.
Then, oh I can't wait to tell you, there was this treacle sponge pudding and vanilla ice, and of course the Graham's 20 year old port. Yes, yes, YES!
Without doubt the best airline meal I've ever had.
Then I blissfully dozed off for a very pleasant hour or so while we came into land.
Thirty seconds after arriving at the gate the door opened, again for only the F pax on a separate jetway. Got to the end of the airbridge with the worrying sign with my name on it: uh-oh. ''Tis me' I said, to which the gate agent took me to one of those golf carts. 'Never been on one of these' I said. 'I thought these were for old people - is that me?' I asked as we dashed past a Virgin Crew coming off their flight, with some gusto, obviously to the 19th hole somewhere.
At immigration, the golf buggy whisked around the immigration options to get me to the quickest one. Five minutes later I'd cleared immigration, greeted again by my airside accomplice.
At the baggage carousel, although the bags started coming off straight away, mine was nowhere. Then the belt stopped after five minutes. So much for priority baggage I thought. But I was on such a high I really didn't care. Then without prompting two baggage guys came up to us, stated that there was no more baggage, and where was my baggage receipt? Two minutes later they'd found it on another carousel.
My airside buddy delivered me landside to the Four Seasons rep, then into a limo a few steps away right at the terminal building.
As I relaxed in my S Class I smiled as I reminisced over what had been my favourite flight experience of all time.
Cheers, Howard
