This is a Trip Report from the Upper Class cabin
Ground Staff
Food & Drink
Entertainment
Seat
Cabin Crew
Aircraft Name: Mustang Sally
Report style: Sort of sub-Jane Austen with fewer heaving bosoms. (Honestly not one of my better efforts.)
It is a truth universally acknowledged that a gentleman in possession of a Flying Club Gold card must be in want of an Upper Class flight.
And so it was that on a fine Friday in early August, Mr Jonathan Morgan set out with a determined air to procure a hansom cab for the purpose of attending the airport at that fine city of San Francisco. Though past forty years of age (just), Mr Morgan presented a comely appearance, and soon attracted the attention of a driver who was willing to take him all the way.
He arrived at the airport terminal some two hours in advance of his scheduled time of departure. Earlier in the week, by means of his embarrassingly generous apportionment of Miles, he had besought and obtained the boon of a seat in the Upper Class portion of the aeroplane. He therefore availed himself of the checking-in facility most graciously demarked by silken ropes and a fine carpet of red.
Finding himself standing before a most shockingly unchaperoned young lady of marriageable age, Mr Morgan took care to comport himself entirely in a manner befitting his status, and not to disgrace either himself or the young lady through any hint of inappropriate behaviour. He was aided in this endeavour by his fine upbringing and his frankly deviant sexuality, and emerged from the encounter swiftly and with his reputation entirely unsullied (except as a sexual deviant of course); a pass to his favoured seat 16K and an invitation to the Virgin salon in his hand.
Carried aloft to this salon by that technological contrivance amusingly known to his colonial hosts as an 'elevator', he was welcomed into the exclusive halls and quite soon after was offered refreshment. Clearly the trappings of civilisation had reached this far-flung corner of the world, and so in the spirit of international adventure he requested a glass of wine produced in that very region, and a portion of the traditional American dish known as 'pizza'. Both of these were most flavoursome, and served to assuage his not-inconsiderable thirst and hunger. He also found, for the first time in his experience, copies of the journal called Travel Notes most unaccountably (considering the warm sunshine outside) entitled 'Winter'.
Sitting in the comfort of his sofa, Mr Morgan took a few moments to reflect on the service of this most salubrious space, and found himself forced to admit one or two failings in the general level he had previously enjoyed. The receptionist had made a really quite unnecessary fuss when asking him if he intended to make use of the facilities for arriving passengers at his destination, insisting very wastefully that he must be issued an invitation despite his protestation that he had visited before and was quite well aware of its location. And though the young man serving him was entirely personable and helpful, he appeared to be responsible for fully one half of the space on his own, meaning his attention was quite difficult to attract.
Whiling away the time before his scheduled departure, Mr Morgan fell into a conversation with a married couple of elderly years but entirely filthy sense of humour. This pair, returning from a wedding in California's mystical Napa Valley, seemed entirely at home with the language of the gutter and the wit of the barroom. Certain of their fellow salonaires made their displeasure at this behaviour abundantly clear, though Mr Morgan found himself thoroughly entertained. Encouraged by the pair to join in, he found himself telling his favourite joke ('There are two nuns in a bath...') and was most gratified to be the cause of much spluttering as the couple shook with mirth at its conclusion while quaffing their drinks.
Once called to pass through the secure entryway in order to approach the aeroplane (which passage was unduly hindered by the crass over-encumbrance of two fellow passengers, who required the use of no fewer than six trays and two bags between them), Mr Morgan betook himself to the Emporium of Tax-Free Wonders, there to obtain a bottle of finest malt-based spirit, so useful for medicinal purposes around the home. With his hard-bargained bounty in hand, he departed through the designated doorway for those with priority, and was welcomed by name to Sir Richard Branson's travelling saloon. He settled into his designated chaise longue, surrounded by his fellow guests and attended upon by a group of most gracious and solicitous staff, anxious to press further refreshments upon him. One young woman in particular proffered services of a most intimate nature involving laying her hands upon his body, and while obviously shocked at her forwardness, Mr Morgan accepted her offer, lest his refusal result in her punishment.
The senior attendant of the saloon announced to the travelling assemblage that their journey was to begin with the utmost promptitude and would take a mere nine hours and ten minutes. Even as Mr Morgan and his fellow travellers marvelled that such vast distances could be traversed at this almost magical speed, the final preparations for departure were completed and their journey commenced fully fifteen minutes ahead of the hour specified in the almanac.
Mr Morgan's every comfort was attended to by the efficient staff, whose solicitude was so great that he actually sought out the senior attendant and complimented him on their efficiency and attention. At his appointed hour he dined upon a tartlet of goat's cheese and a well-prepared steak, which to his great pleasure was not overcooked, and partook liberally of the Spanish red wine which he remembered so fondly from previous journeys.
Among the many touches which distinguished the service he received was the conversion of an unallocated chaise into a fully made-up bed, and the attendant's earnest entreaty that he should use this facility for sleep rather than disrupt his own arrangements. This was an offer for which he was most appreciative, and which he accepted with alacrity.
During the journey he spent a brief period sitting for a nightcap with a fellow traveller at the bar and making use of the fulsome selection of entertainments available, watching several humorous episodes, and a most gripping narrative entitled Zodiac. He also noticed that Mustang Sally, his companion of many previous journeys, had received some minor improvements since last he betook of her hospitality, in the shape of guards against the inadvertent engagement of the reclining feature of the chaises.
After his sleep and a hearty breakfast, the journey held one final delight, as the forward young lady approached with an offer to moisturise his dehydrated and weary extremities. This, at the end of the journey, was even more welcome than it would have been at its start, and made a total of two such treatments in one week, surely a record in his experience.
Eventually, the journey came to its end, and Mustang Sally brought Mr Morgan and her other weary passengers home safely to the ground some forty minutes in advance of her schedule. But even at this triumphant moment - Calamity!!!! An ill-secured trolley of fine china and silverware broke loose of its place and many dozens of items were shattered upon the floor with an almighty crash. The attendants rushed to the scene, and with speed and vigour unexpected after so many hours of labour, removed the debris from the area sufficient that no passenger should be afeared to place their foot upon the place where the disaster had occurred.
Upon arrival at the eventual resting point, Mr Morgan's coat was returned and pausing only to thank the attendants a final time, he left to take the long walk to be welcomed back to the bosom of his country by Her Britannic Majesty's most cheerful servants (the eye-scanning devices being out of use that day), thence to retrieve his luggage, which sadly did not appear with the speed or priority which he had been led to expect.
As Mr Morgan refreshed himself in the comfort of a Reviving shower he reflected upon his experiences and recognised that even though his trip had not brought him new love (which was as well, or he was sure that The Other Mr Morgan would have Had Something To Say About It), nor even good old-fashioned lust (and again, this was probably for the best), it had bought him a superlative example of the Virgin Atlantic experience which he would regard as setting the standard for all those many still to come. Hopefully.
