VS023 LHR-LAX 18 Jan 09 Upper
Posted: 19 Jan 2009, 15:57This is a Trip Report from the Upper Class cabin
Ground Staff
Food & Drink
Entertainment
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Cabin Crew
Bidding goodbye to my dear friends I entered the new T3 for the first time since its reemergence following major surgery. What a difference eighteen months makes. In this case, all for the positive. Making my way to the Upper desk I was greeted by a charming and polite Virgin employee who took time to explain how I should proceed in order to fully utili(s)ze all the benefits of flying Upper Class. Thusly my first contact with Virgin on this trip rated a 10 out of 10.
Security was, as the Americans say, a 'breeze' and I was through in moments. The officer actually returned my greeting. The shoe carnival was next but it too didn't offend. A positive trend?
Having remembered I was low on my Johnny Walker supply at home I entered the duty-free area where a classic British gentleman greeted me and before long, a bottle of JW Green tucked safely under my arm, I was departing duty-free bound for the Clubhouse.
The Virgin Clubhouse at London Heaathrow, for those who've yet to experience it, on a bad day is at least as good as the better airline club rooms. But today wasn't to be a bad day. To the contrary. The positive ratings for Virgin begun at check-in were to continue here. I had to have some brekkie and thus spent the next forty-five minutes in the care of a lovely and professional young woman while enjoying steaming hot coffee and a delicious Eggs Benedict.
After breakfast and a few minutes checking e-mail messages in the media room I headed out toward the gate. Fifteen minutes or so later I was there, no thanks to the non-working people movers. It's a shame the the BAA having spent so many taxpayer dollars on refurbishment has concluded that any down time for the moving walkways is acceptable. Let's get those BAA blokes out there to walk T3 in its entirety.[}:)]
At the gate I finally spied her: G-VYOU, an A-346 having entered service in 2006 and named 'Emmeline Heaney' was to be our home in the sky. Soon we were called to board with that now infamous non-priority priority boarding in full effect. No matter as I was standing near the beginning of the queue chatting up a an ex-pat Brit now living in LA and loving it. We bid one another adieu at the aircraft door and I 'turned left' as we all pray to be able to do one day.
I'd seen them in the departure lounge, the crew. They were gathered around the FSM who was doing a briefing I assumed. They were keenly alert to his comments for some ten minutes or so before arising as a group and, in the tradition of all the famed air carriers, walking together to claim command of their airship. That moment, its symbolism inescapable, cauterized whatever remaining ill feeling remained in my gut after the unpleasant outward journey to London only a few days earlier. It also told me that this was to be a marvelous journey. And so it was.
From our first moment aboard passengers were to be gathered into the arms of this crew, held and not let go -- not until we had flown 5,440 miles together, and not until we had enjoyed fizzies, crisps, soups, salads, mains, cheeses and biscuits, wine, beer, movies and all manner of satiating strokes.
Yes, the food was edible. For starters I'd enjoyed a glass of Chardonnay followed by a bowl spicy chili con carne from the 'Lighter Bites' menu. A short while later my Senior Cabin Crew member, a lovely and smiling woman, set down a steaming plate of delicious lamb partnered with hot mashed potatoes, red cabbage and spinach. How could one not devour it? These two dishes were much, much better than I expected. Another plus.
Following up on dinner I chose the cheese and biscuit plate. Not to be confused with the grand tour of smelly petite fromage we V-Flyers had experienced aboard the Eurostar on our homeward trip from Paris a day earlier, the offering was nonetheless very adequate and I gladly consumed its bits.
I should mention at this point that while I was thrilled to see the high level of service, abundance of smiles and overall attentiveness of our crew it would have mattered little except for the fact I was not alone in receiving this welcomed pampering. Clearly today was an 'on' day for Virgin. It could do no wrong. Every detail had been checked, rechecked and looked in on just one more time before passengers came aboard. Now that we were here the Virgin team saw to it that we received full value for our fares.
Time passed very quickly. After dinner it was about 630pm or so London time (and what was it back in California?). Following Preiffer's advice I converted my seat to the bed setting and then placed the duvet down as a sort of cushioning mattress. It worked like a charm to relieve the natural hardness of the cushion, and I was soon off somewhere far away, my mind producing tales of wonderment, byproducts of bliss I later reasoned.
More food, sir? Having noticed that I'd stirred my CC was bending down before me, her smile still fresh. I gladly agreed to her proffer and moments later found a new plate before me containing a garlic chicken wrap (quite good cold) and a slice of savoury cheesecake, an unexpectedly satisfying morsel, with pieces of briny olive and scents of thyme and cheese.
Who was it who'd said that the food in Upper could stand some improvement? Ah, that might have been me, and on more than one occasion. Well, on this occasion at least, the food was not only satisfying it was delicious. Not overly portioned, mind you, nor of any Gordon Ramsay lineage. Just satisfying, well prepared repasts that reminded me albeit somewhat distantly of the days when everything served in the premium cabins on international journeys was of the finest quality.
And so it was to be that this day -- the final day of my four-day visit to the land where the courtesy and good humo(u)r of good friends, endless queueing, Howard's generosity, Tony's wonderful touring, rides to and fro on the Tube and a rousing good play, Boys of the Empire, produced by our very own publisher Pete, had once again charmed me beyond expectation -- would erect as its capstone a ten-hour flight to dreamland led by a team of Virgin employees anyone would be privileged to have as mates.
One last thought, if I may. Our V-Flyer trip to Paris, an affair to remember for the thirty-two hearty souls who'd chanced the weather, train schedules and the surprisingly large mid-winter crowds just to say they'd been a part of it all, was one of those magical moments that life rewards as recompence for inconvenience and hard times.
We thank you, Life, and I thank you, my V-Flyer mates, for once again welcoming me to your home, a great country that feels to this Yankee like home, a home away from home, that is, in our ever shrinking, always challenging globe of nations.
Chuck-