VS045 LHR-JFK 18 DEC 11 (Upper Class)
Posted: 28 Dec 2011, 21:38This is a Trip Report from the Upper Class cabin
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1. Is spending 180k miles on two UC flights to the east coast worth it?
2. Is there one last surprise I can spring on MrsPJH ?
3. Is booking a flight from somewhere wintry to somewhere wintry a risk?
Let’s start with (3).
This trip started with a rare coincidence, MrsPJH being in the unusual position of having a full week off before Christmas, and my project shutting down for the same period. I was also starting to get that feeling that I needed to enjoy some of the miles I’d banked, carpe diem, oh captain! my captain! and all of that. So, with good cheer I thought “aha, what about a trip to NYC, I hear they keep Christmas well there” and so set about the task of looking at flight availability, reading V-F and Tripadvisor hotel reviews and seeking out opinions on which Broadway shows to book.
Unfortunately, from the moment I said “yes” to the VS agent, a nagging worry worm took up lodgings, encouraged by my glances towards the headlines of the Daily M**l and Ex***ss (I know I shouldn’t, but they sit there flaunting their big straplines) shouting about the coming Snowmaggedon and “frequent and widespread heavy snowfalls during November to January across many parts of the UK and Ireland, with below-average temperatures”. If we got out there, would we get stuck in a snowbound NYC? Though MrsPJH and I would be quite relaxed about having to extend our trip I fear our offspring, who favour the traditional (parent funded) Christmas at home, would never forgive us. Even the bl**dy Grauniad got in on the act one day with dark mutterings about volcanic activity in Iceland.
As it turns out, the M**l was as on the money with the weather as it was with its online headline about the Amanda Knox verdict and the Grauniad is, well, the Gruaniad. So, out we went and back we came with no weather related challenges.
Now to (2).
Having, over the years, sprung PE / Clubhouse / UC as “surprises” I was almost stumped. MrsPJH knows I do not share her enthusiasm for nipping over to the continent on Ryanair or Easyjet, and so once I said we were going away for the week would therefore have sussed (a) destination probably the USA and (b) carrier probably VS. So, a two part plan was settled upon;
- Sort out DTCI as the surprise of the trip,
- Engage in a campaign of misdirection.
DTCI was a doddle to set up, even just 48 hours before the flight. Clearly the misdirection couldn’t involve clothing and weather, so I settled upon apparently attempting (and, surprisingly, failing) to get a haircut the day before we left….which led MrsPJH to ruefully observe, “I’ll have to reset my expectations; we’re clearly not using the Clubhouse”. I also had to work around why we needed two cases and why needed to be in the house for midday the on the Saturday (OLCI, not being a fully mobile enabled individual, but even being on the button of midday managed only SEQ4 and 5).
So, (3) and (2) sorted, and I’ll leave (1) until the very end of the return TR.
Cometh the day, cometh the taxi, cometh the driver asking whether we’d used the “Virgin check in” before. D’oh! A swift lighthearted chuckle and mention of the fact “it’s a surprise” (not at all through teeth more gritted than the local roads) curtailed any further revelations. MrsPJH promptly feel asleep having had a very disturbed night due to a gammy leg and a stoic refusal to take painkillers until about 4 a.m..
It being early on a Sunday the A1 / M25 route proved to be smooth and unchallenging, unlike the poor driver’s first attempt to find the ramp up to the DTCI, which necessitated a go around with much horn honking from those around us. On the second go, and after a heart stopping delay at the barrier, we found ourselves coming up the ramp to see two liveried chaps and a young lady in bright red obviously waiting for somebody important. As we exited the car it were greeted warmly (and by name) by the young lady, bags removed from our care by the liveried chap and after minimal formalities directed though to the Clubhouse. They were there for us! Now, I’m sorry if it sounds a bit crass, but that was very, very cool.
At this point the surprise is spent, but the resultant happiness is a sight to behold, with MrsPJH - not always the most willing to engage in lighthearted small talk – regaling the C H reception, the waitress, the ladies at the treatment reception, the girl doing her nails and anyone else who paused close by for a minute with the fact that this is a surprise from her wonderful husband. I, of course, pay no heed to the admiring “awwws” and “what a nice man”.
Once through the portal, there is, of course, a schedule to be followed. Book treatment, get coffee, get breakfast, get champagne, get treatment, get more champagne, get top up food and eventually get on board the aircraft. Initially the service wasn’t great, as we somehow settled in the area being looked after by Halley’s waitress. This was rectified after our treatments, when we moved into the conservatory.
For a treatment I opted for the delayed haircut, and during the short time this required (clippers set to one, then to zero, no scissors necessary) as our conversation went down the “where are you headed today?” path the hairdresser said that some of the training staff were headed over to NYC to interview candidates for the salon.
Breakfast was taken, and was fine. I made a tactical error in opting to stay in our seats rather than move to the dining area, as it made asking for more toast something of a challenge, with the request somehow getting lost along the way. This small, unfulfilled, toast free corner of my being was later sated by opting for the excellent bread and ham offering from the deli.
This being our first non Saturday experience of the CH I wondered how busy it would get. It didn’t feel quite as crammed as it has on the other occasions, but virtually all seats were occupied at one point in the morning, peaking around the early JFK and Miami flights. Once the latter was called, the numbers in the CH fell dramatically.
Dramatically, but not quite as low as they should have done. As I said above we’d opted for the conservatory, and just as we took our seats a girl settled down into the nearby groovy-sixties-style-hanging chair and proceeded to commune deeply with her iPad. A fair few minutes after the second and final call for the Miami flight our calm repose was disturbed by a loud and repeated thumping on the glass. When we looked up there was a very, very frazzled looking woman trying to get the attention of the girl in the nearby groovy-sixties-style-hanging chair and shouting something along the lines of “where the **** have you been! Our flight’s leaving!”; the response was a “does-it-look-like-I-care?” shrug and extended time in moving. Now, I’m aware that I don’t know the precise and complete circumstances but my thoughts were along the lines of “You’re flying to Miami, possibly for Christmas and probably at the pointy end; it’s not like you’re heading to mad uncle Gerald’s in Dunstable to play endless games of scrabble whilst wearing two jumpers (one of which has reindeer on it) sitting next to a pair of flatulent Labradors. Snap out of it and stop worrying your mother!”
Ms Stroppy’s departure meant that MrsPJH could take the opportunity to loll around in the nearby groovy-sixties-style-hanging chair whilst I took arty photos. Well, they turned out to be arty, slightly out of focus and at odd angles; wonder why that was? Then karma smacked me between the eyes for having been less than charitable about the previous occupant of the groovy-sixties-style-hanging chair; yesterday’s gammy leg flared up as MrsPJH was getting out of the chair when the flight was called. Oh, how we laughed as we hobbled on our way, noting as we did so that the status of the flight on the departure screens was “Final Call”. A number of groups of people sped past us at this point, with at least one couple having a very tight lipped exchange about “If you hadn’t spent so long in duty free….”
On arrival at the gate it seemed that most people had already boarded, with the priority and standard queues holding about the same small number of passengers and no-one in the holding pen. The jetway looked a tad busy, but MrsPJH pointed out that there was another one in operation for UC passengers so we headed that way. Greeted by name (which continued throughout the flight) and settled into 16K and 17K with champagne to hand, MrsPH very pleased (a) to be able to rest her leg and (b) that it is the 747 seat configuration.
Apart from a few crumbs lodged in crevices and some red nail polish marks, the suites look clean and no-one seems to use the hot towels to wipe them down.
Earwigging the cabin crew’s “welcome conversations” indicates most fellow passengers seem to be couples heading out for a Christmas or pre Christmas break. Apparently the PE and Economy sections are full to bursting, but the UC section has a good few vacant seats; three free in our section and, as later investigation revealed, virtually all of the D and G seats further back.
I think we were a little late taking off; I enjoyed the take off itself as you do get that feeling of something robust and mechanical happening with the nose wheel being below the cabin. We were being flown by a female pilot, and given the name were wondering whether it was the sister of one of MrsPJHs friend who was with VS last we heard. Research on our return shows it wasn’t, as she is now a Captain for BA.
Service was excellent throughout. The crew member serving our side of the aircraft was taking particularly good care of an elderly (well, more elderly than us…) couple in front of us who were having some challenges with the IFE and were particularly worried where the pilot was to be found. The FSM put in an active appearance at several points in the journey, helping out with the lunch service in particular.
I don’t recall being offered a refill of champagne, but drinks orders were taken and g&t brought promptly once in the air. I had been prepared to offer up the V-F citrus challenge, but was blind sided by the order being qualified with the question “with lime?” Curses, no chance to demonstrate my sophisticated side, but I take comfort in assuming I was recognised as being a sophisticated traveler who would appreciate the finer things…..
Having read through the entertainment guide, I opted to wait until after lunch to watch something and instead settled into the Keith Richards autobiography. Though enjoying it greatly, at various points I can imagine the ghostwriter finding Keith’s unique view of the world too hard to rein in and saying “I give up, I’m off for a walk Keith, you go ahead and write that bit about the guns….”
Lunch was excellent. The soup was good and spicy, as was the chocolate tart and, MrsPJH said, the chicken. It was good to have the stronger flavours; I don’t like the tendency to rush to the bland to avoid offending anyone. Not sure how they managed to make the steak both tender and tasty, but it was both of those. This I complemented with the Vondeling Baldrick, albeit sans turnip. It was only the sweet potato mash that wasn’t to my taste, and that’s largely down to a failed experiment last Christmas with sweet potatoes and marshmallows. This brings the same strange feeling to my insides that thinking about the egg custard tart that we used to have at school does, so I had better stop or I’ll th….
Ok, that’s better…
We continued our UC tendency (I’d call it a “habit “ or “tradition” but that implies having taken far more UC flights than we actually have) of dining together. The crew member serving us offered to make up one of the spare suites behind us for lunch so that after eating we could return to uncluttered seats, which I thought very kind. And how did I thank him? By appropriating the aeroplane design salt and pepper shakers, of course.
It strikes the both of us as slightly odd that couples don’t spend more time together on the flight, with mealtime being an ideal opportunity to do so. Perhaps it’s not knowing that you can – a couple opposite saw what we were doing and followed our lead.
After lunch we strolled back from our table to our seats to “watch a film” (aka “take an alcohol induced doze”). I wasn’t terribly excited by the films on offer, but did take in “Contagion” – much better than I expected – and “The Inbetweeners” – far ruder and much funnier than I anticipated. Both were spoiled a little bit by tendency of the system to stick for a second or two every so often.
During this time I noticed that the male half of the couple that had eaten together had migrated to the suite behind MrsPJH. Not quite sure why, unless he felt that he had somehow to balance the unexpected intimacy of the dining experience by putting some distance between himself and his partner.
Tea and cake was taken at some point in the later flight, as was a great deal of water. I totted up that I must have drunk over two litres (four of the bottles plus what we had with lunch) which is not my usual style. Probably made me feel a lot better than I would otherwise have done…
We landed into a cold but bright JFK and, following the advice on this site, opted for the swiftest hobble possible to immigration where we were through in two minutes. Yes, that’s right, straight to an agent and swiftly through (have they reduced the fingerprinting to one hand only now or was it always thus?). We must have been very, very lucky (as we weren’t very, very fast).
Then, of course, we have to wait for our bags anyway, but at least it wasn’t in an apparently endless queue. One lady didn’t appreciate the wait for her bags and after five minutes – again it was that short – decided to berate an airport employee in unpleasant finger wagging style about “this not being good enough”. This was then repeated every few minutes. Why do this? Why attempt to take a frustration born of an unreasonable expectation out on someone who has no power to do anything about it?
I guess we waited about 30 minutes for our bags (perhaps they time this on the basis of the expected immigration queue?) and once we had them we were out to find a taxi. At one point I thought we were being kidnapped as every sign for Manhattan was ignored, but the computer and map they have in the back of every (?) yellow cab soon revealed the driver’s game plan and I started to relax…until, with the taxi rear lights disappearing in the distance, we were welcomed to “The Standard”…hang on, I’d booked “The Cooper Square”…
..to be continued.
). Mrs PJH will (at some point) accept defeat gracefully (as eventually did DL the Elder) and admit that flying up at the pointy end is not a needless extravagance but something that makes the labour of travel a more pleasant experience 
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) would be to say you have booked UC but it is on "standby"
