The flight to Dulles was slightly delayed, not enough to be alarming, merely annoying.
I ran to the empty departure area, slightly out of breath and as I checked in with the gate agent, she smiled and ripped up my boarding pass. It took me a half beat to catch on as she mumbled about “operational needs forcing a seat change” and handed me a slip with a single digit number on it.
And that is how I came to spend my most luxurious cross-atlantic trip yet. The seats recline to full bed position and they featured a lovely vintage port along with a cheese plate for dessert.
One of the nice little perqs of my company is that you get access to business lounges. I’m happy to report that the Panorama lounge here in Zurich is impeccably jawesome.
And this is why I would slit your gramma’s throat to keep elite status every year.
Time to go find a Swiss toilet. My finely honed traveller’s intuition tells me they’re going to be better than what I’m about to encounter over the next two weeks.