This is a Trip Report from the Upper Class cabin
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Wed bagged four G class seats back in February mine and mdvipond jr.s on full miles, Mrs. mdvipond and the Seniors on miles upgrades from Y so this ere trip had truly been a long time coming. We flew down from MAN the previous evening and endured a night at the Hilton at T4. Having accrued a total of 11 bags and one unruly hang-glider (once again cunningly disguised as mdviponds stroller), we decided to take a limo-van from the Hilton to T3 not cheap but sooo much nicer than hoofing all that luggage through the rather sinister labyrinth that exists beneath Heathrow.
Arriving at T3 a little after 8 o clock we found VS check-in was pretty quiet, with a bit of a queue for Y, almost nothing for PE and UC. Wed done OLCI the previous day and secured our requested seats (8 and 9 G/K) but decided to eschew bag-drop in favour of the UC check-in desk. Bag-drop has let us down on more than one occasion since we started involving mdvipond jr and the unruly hang-glider in our travel plans and, with no queue at UC, it seemed a shame to deprive ourselves of a little bit of red-carpet treatment. The security chappy checked our passports in a friendly and efficient manner and we manoeuvred our baggage mountain up to the check-in desk.
Turned out, to my complete absence of surprise, that OLCI hadnt worked for jr. and I, despite the fact that I had a print-out confirming that it had. Not a problem though, as were allocated the seats wed originally plumped for. Baggage mountain was tagged and sent off on its merry-go-round trip round the airport, boarding cards were issued and we were on our way, with a short detour to outsize baggage to dump the unruly hang-glider. As mdvipond jr. has now rather conveniently got to grips with the whole walking malarkey, its now much easier to avoid the hang-glider dismantling/rebuilding process at security. Im told, albeit in hushed tones, that a day will come in the not too distant future when we wont have to take the damnable contraption with us at all. For now, I scarcely dare believe it, but continue to live in hope.
Fast-track security wasnt too bad; the normal lane, however, looked hellish, trailing half way back through the terminal. We were through in about 15 minutes, having removed shoes, belts etc. and, for Mrs. mdvipond, endured the great taste of jr.s formula to prove it wasnt a bomb. I am reliably informed that this is a taste sensation to avoid wherever possible. In fact, Mrs. mdvipond did question how much worse liquid explosive could possibly taste. We were followed closely through security by Neil and Glynis Kinnock who, I assume, were in proud possession of two pristine first class tickets for the gravy train to Brussels. Nonetheless, it was a perversely satisfying experience to see the old ginger one struggling to hold his trousers up and leaning on his wife whilst trying to get his handmade Italian loafers back on
And so to the Clubhouse! It was the first time since the completion of phase 2 for jr., the Mrs. and me, and first time period for my parents who were suitably impressed, their previous Clubhouse experiences being limited to LGW. We were quickly guided to a table from where we all ordered the full monty breakfast experience. As it was fast approaching 9 oclock, I took a wander over to the Cowshed to double check on the treatments Id booked, for half past 9, for my mum and Mrs. mdvipond. Rather disappointingly I was informed that I had, in fact, booked said treatments for 8, so theyd missed them. I tried pointing out that there was no way on gods clean earth I would have made the bookings so early, but it quickly transpired I was dealing with the kind of uber-blonde who was capable of repeating, yes, but the computer says your booking was for 8, until hell froze over, so I admitted defeat and went to deliver the bad news to the ladies. They took it well, and compensated themselves admirably by demolishing their full-cooked with 5 rounds of toast.
After breakfast, I took a tour of the new bits of the Clubhouse, checking out the library then popped upstairs to look at the impressive display of Gibson guitars, somehow managing to avoid upsetting staff and customers alike by resisting the urge to display my strumming skills. When you only know three cords, people seem to tire of ones performance quite quicky. Mind you, never did Status Quo any harm, did it? I ventured outside briefly to sit in the Jag, but was driven back inside sharply by the combination of aviation fuel fumes and the cold.
I found Mrs. mdvipond and jr. in the cr_che, where for some reason the parents of two other children seemed to have assumed that my good lady was the Clubhouse Nanny, quite happily leaving her to tend to their ill behaved offspring whilst they retired to the library. To her credit, Mrs. mdvipond lasted exactly one tantrum and a really quite violently broken toy before extricating herself and jr. to join us in The Lodge for our first glass of champers of the day. Whether or not we were drawn there by the convivial apr_s-ski vibe (copyright Virgin Atlantic Website 2006) is hard to say, but it was certainly a nice spot for our little group. mdvipond jr., perhaps a little disturbingly, really liked the fake log fires being displayed on two LCD TV screens, opting to give them a good lick to check their authenticity. Luckily, we dont have a fire at home, which, all things considered, is probably no bad thing.
The announcement of an hour or so delay was no great shakes to us and the perfect excuse for another glass (or two) of fizz. The lean young chap who served us who apparently normally works as cabin crew but was using his day off to earn some extra cash for Christmas shopping, poor soul asked if wed like to order anything to eat. I declined, informing him that I would never consider champagne before breakfast. Oh you should, he cooed, Its very good. Im quite happy to take the man at his word, but unfortunately well have to wait for our next trip to indulge in pre-breakfast, empty-stomached binge drinking (oh how I miss my student days).
Boarding was finally announced, so as we and our fellow pax shouldered our hand luggage and started to make our way out of the Clubhouse, Mrs. mdvipond and my mother decided that this was a much better moment than any other in the preceding 3 hours to take an extended trip to the ladies room. Bloody typical, and guaranteed to make a dent in my champagne buzz. However, with the happy absence of the unruly hang-glider and the intricate dismantling process that we normally have to endure at the gate, we werent in too great a rush and the mdvipond party were soon presenting themselves at a well posted priority boarding lane. A bit of a queue down the jetway (which my mother started to get a little unsettled about, especially as dad was telling us of one that had collapsed recently killing a number of would-be passengers) before the entrance to Lady Luck lay before us and a smiley faced FA invited us to turn right.
Quickly made our way to 8 and 9, G and K, followed by the usual tussle with hand luggage:
Do you need anything else out of your bag, apple of my eye?
No, Im fine, replies Mrs. mdvipond, and so the bag is stowed and I am seated. Oh, quoth she, Sorry, can I have Marie Clare out please?. Get up, bring bag back down, hand over Marie Clare (which rather confusingly turns out to be a magazine).
Anything else, my reason for living?
No, fine thanks, and a restful 60 seconds ensues before, Actually, would you mind getting Perry out for me?. Not quite as kinky a request as some (including me) may have hoped for; Perry is in fact mdvipond jr.s stuffed polar bear.
And so the routine is repeated. Then, Honey, its probably best if you get the bag down and get a nappy out, save bothering you later. Bother? BOTHER?? No bother at all!! Anyway, you get the gist, and I feel Ive probably vented my spleen enough for one day.
The fourth champers of the day was delivered, and I finally settled back with my book, casting it aside only to watch the safety video (its really important to give it your full attention, even if you are as seasoned traveller like me) and before long we were one plane from the front of the inevitable queue for the runway. Then the captain came on to inform is that thered been a mix up with paperwork and passenger numbers and that wed have to head back to the terminal to sort it. This took the best part of an hour, and it was another half hour before we were back at the head of the queue again. We finally took off about 2 and half hours late.
The suite was in decent nick with no real scuffs or marks, although, as has been mentioned many times before, they are just a tad tighter on the A346 than their 747 cousins. My dads suite, however, had a bad case of the backward drifts, edging lower and lower without pressing any buttons. Mentioned it to FA, who told him he must be inadvertently pressing the buttons (he wasnt). Complained again 5 minutes later and the FA thanked him and said shed inform an engineer. Didnt help dad much though
It was at this point that I decided to open the rather snazzy Snooze Pack which Id found on my seat and oh, my word, what an embarrassment of riches! Actually no, my mistake, let that read: what an embarrassment. I wont go on, its been covered in depth on this website already, but the VS beancounters really are taking the proverbial with this one. I managed to nab a toothbrush from the loo and some lip balm from the bar, but this really isnt on, is it? And although I understand he may be in a minority, dad really missed his OB cufflinks this trip.
Lunch and drinks orders were taken pretty much as soon as the crew were allowed out of their seats. I stumped (no surprise here) for a Ten and tonic thats Tanqueray Ten to the uninitiated which actually came with a slice of lime for once. The perfect G & T! I then got stuck into the trivia game on V-Port, categorically whupping the hides of all those who dared to challenge me which, to be fair, only turned out to be mum and the Mrs., as no one else on the plane seemed to want to play.
By the time lunch arrived Id ditched the trivia and was half way into Over The Hedge, which, after four or five glasses of fizz and a couple of gins, turned out to be just a little too funny to watch safely whilst eating soup. Never mind, I guess thats what they invented napkins for. The soup itself was nice, a chunky minestrone with shavings of (I reckoned) pecorino cheese, although it could, as Mrs. mdvipond insisted, have been parmesan. The steak was less than a triumph, a little overcooked - and little square - for my liking. Most of our party went for much the same and all were a tad disappointed. The wine was good; I went for the Rioja which was a cracker, enhanced considerably by the Spanish FA who served me, whose pronunciation of Rioja was enough to make one want to perform the flamenco with her all the way through Y and back. I resisted, but only because the beancounters decision to stop putting a flower on the bar meant I had nothing to clamp between my teeth, which would have ruined the whole effect.
mdvipond jr., who had been sleeping soundly for most of the flight, roused shortly after lunch so, at her insistence, we went to the bar. I slurped on another perfect G & T whilst Spanish FA kindly shared her apple with jr., cutting bits of and feeding her a slice at a time. Sad to say the same level of service was not extended to her father. Damn kid gets all the attention. jr. and I then went for a jaunt down to the back and back, a trip which despite snooze packs, falling standards of food and the loss of red cushions really makes you appreciate UC when you pass back through that final curtain. To be fair, pax numbers in Y were pretty light with a lucky few getting to stretch out over the middle seats. Not a suite by anyones standards, but they still looked perfectly comfortable.
I was fortunate enough to find Mrs. mdvipond and my mum at the bar upon my return, and gladly accepted the offer of another glass of Rioja from Spanish FA (oh, that accent), in exchange for my daughter. She cooed, smiled, giggled and generally entertained the other two pax at the bar (jr., that is, not Spanish FA), so I slunk back to my seat to catch another movie. Plumped for Pirates of the Caribbean 2, which was entertaining enough, whilst the rest of our party slowly gave in to the early start, the food and the wine and bedded down for a nap.
After the film, with the Seniors and to be fair most of UC still asleep, Mrs. mdvipond, jr. and I whiled away an hour or two to-ing and fro-ing between the rear galley and the bar, forgoing the booze for a bit and making some nominal attempt at re-hydration with OJ and water. We had, however, got to the dreaded stage of the flight where only sparkling water is available as there was no still left, except, of course, for the bottles with the FAs names felt-tipped on them (yet another reminder of my student days).
Had a nice double espresso with some half decent sarnies about an hour or so before landing, accompanied by a chocolate brownie, the density of which could probably prove the existence of dark matter in the universe. Until I ate it, that is. Delicious as it was, it was still no substitute for a decent scone with clotted cream. Why stop doing cream teas? It seems such a strange thing to withdraw. Besides, ultra-dense brownies must cost as much, if not more when you consider how much more fuel they must have to use to transport them Checking the time, I realised we must be darn close to the seat belt sign coming back on, so made a dash for the loo and a well deserved freshen up.
An uneventful approach and landing into a hazy, late afternoon Los Angeles, arriving about an hour and half late. Disembarkation was good, with UC off first, and a misty-eyed adios from Spanish FA. Immigration was awful, so much so that people were starting to back-up on the escalator because the queue was so long. An Air France flight had come in at much the same time as us, which may have been part of the problem. Took an hour to get through, by which time it was pretty hard to gauge the effectiveness of priority UC bag-tagging, as all the cases had been removed from the carousel by ground staff, even the unruly hang-glider, which we found leant incongruously against a wall at the far side of the hall. Another 40 minutes to get through Customs and we were frazzled. Thankfully the limo driver was waiting for us and we were at the Beverly Hilton within the hour. Really nice hotel, by the way, would highly recommend it.
Did I get my '10-out-of-10 experience? Not quite, but it was an enjoyable flight, although it felt longer than normal thanks to the 2 and half hours of delays, but as terrific an experience as ever, with generally very good service throughout, but pretty average food. Also, lest we forget, a really good use of FF miles, especially considering our good fortune in getting four G class seats together on the same flight. And please, VS, for the love of god, ditch the snooze packs. You know it makes sense.
