Travel Diary of a Moron, Continued

(This post will make more sense if you read the one immediately prior first.)

When I wrote the previous post I thought my travel misadventure had concluded. Pero no. There was more to come.

When I got to my flight, the one two hours later for which I’d volunteered on which I was supposed to be flying first class, I was told I couldn’t have the seat printed on my boarding pass. “That’s the pilot’s seat.”

Um, what? He’s not going to in the cockpit? This bird must have a helluva cruise control.

“We have three pilots.”

So the third one sits in first class and … what? … Pilots the champagne? Pilots the Sandra Bullock movie? What?

But I didn’t say any of that.

So apologies were made, along with further concessions, and I was downgraded back to coach an escorted to the back.

When the flight attendant and I got there, it emerged that an aisle seat was not available because quite a few of the passengers had rearranged themselves to reunite several families. This exasperated the attendant who proclaimed that this just wouldn’t do and began demanding to know where people had started.

The attendant informed everyone that I had been in first class and had suffered the ignominy of a downgrade and was therefore entitled to an aisle. As tensions rose, arguments began, objections were made, the demands, voices were raised and a mother was, quite literally, about to be separated from her two children.

I hadn’t asked or wanted everyone to be dislodged for my comfort. I’d just wanted help finding a seat on a very crowded plane. I had this moment of absolute clarity.

I could now be the hero or the jackass from first class. I picked hero. While I do often enjoy being the magnificent bastard, being just a plain ‘ole bastard is a bummer (Plus, I didn’t want to baby sit.)

In my most magnanimous voice I announced I had no desire to separate this good lady from her children and would be happy to take the only remaining seat, a window.

I was hailed as the savior of Flight 718. The mother thanked me repeatedly over the course of the flight. I was complimented by many. I received more apologies and concessions. The crew gave me freebies the whole flight. And at the end of the flight, one of the attendants, the gay one of course, shoved a bag at me and said, “Your duty free, sir.”

I had purchased no duty free. But this has happened to me before. I knew exactly what was in the bag (left over goodies from first class) and exactly what to do (nonchalantly say thank you and do *not* look at your loot until after exiting the plane).

There’s something about both traveling and putting on a sport jacket that turns me into a gentleman. I find myself using more pleasantries than usual, saying things like, “I’d be most grateful,” “You are too kind”. I call people “ma’am” and “sir” and I perform more acts of random kindness.

What I did on the plane was barely worth notice. I don’t relate it here to hold myself up as some shining example or to seek praise. It was the obvious thing to do … the only thing, really.

My point is this … I like this version of me. I’ve noticed this in the past. And I try to find ways to remind myself to be this “Dale” instead of selfish, pushy, contrary “Dale”. There are many factors that affect which “Dale” shows up on any given day. But the most reliable one is so very simple.

Dress the gentleman, act the gentleman.

I find if I overdress just slightly, whether it’s work, a party or just putting on a jacket when the rest of the tourist schleps are wearing shorts with black socks, I am a better version of myself.

And that feels good.

So let’s make a final accounting of the travel misadventure that started with me missing my flight as a direct result of being a colossal idiot.

If there were any sense in all this, the airline’s attitude to me would have been, “look, stupid white boy, you missed your non-changeable flight ‘cause you’re a moron and you should be on your hands and knees thanking us for getting you to your vacation at all.”

I’d hang my head in shame and accept my well-deserved ridicule.

Instead I walked away with:

Two bottles of wine
A dozen mini-bottles of liquor
A sack full of sweets and munchies
And a whopping one THOUSAND three HUNDRED dollars in free travel vouchers

I win.

Don’t try this at home kids, I am a free travel perks professional.