You never know when or how good fortune will strike, but you should always snatch it up, savor it, and keep your trap shut when it does. On our last day in Bangkok, Diane and I indulged in full body treatments at a spa, then packed our belongings, and boarded the airport bus. The ride was a long one, mostly because I was struck with an immediate and urgent need to visit the nearest facility (regardless of its rating on our 5 point scale) and had the misfortune to wait until AFTER we checked into our flight to take care of said business. Perhaps the girl at the check-in counter sensed my “situation” and took pity on us with our seat assignments. Or, maybe it was just luck. Whatever the case, we soon discovered that we were part of an elite group of flyers on Air Asia. We may as well have been the stars of Real World MCXVII because we were playing in a totally different field than all those other suckers.
Once through security, we cruised the duty-free shops, enjoyed a refreshing beverage (and I purchased those aforementioned Goldfish crackers), and then headed to our gate. The staff looked at our tickets and ushered us over to the seating lounge closest to the doors. After sitting there awhile, we noted that only seven people were in the section. Our first assumption was that it was going to be a sparsely populated flight. Upon making such a comment, we then directed our eyes toward the hordes of people gathered behind the customer service desk—standing. Diane and I looked at each other with wonder and surprise. Did we get first class? Is it even possible to get first class when you paid $100 for a ticket? With giddy anticipation, we awaited the boarding process.
They called the first five rows (of which we barely made the cut in row 5). We walked down the ramp on to the plane and discovered, much to our dismay, that there was no first class, at least not in the way you’d expect to see it (you know, with larger seats and a partition that prevented the peasants from spying on your and largess up in first class).
Odd. We shrugged our shoulders and settled into our seats, ready to watch the parade of plebeians pile onto the plane. Being that we were completely separated from everyone in a very spacious seating area, I was surprised to see the number of people on the flight. It was practically full behind me. However, the first five rows remained empty save for us seven lottery winners that were sitting there. As we taxied on the runway, the flight attendants clearly told everyone to remain in the assigned seats. Just as we were about to take off, some guy from row 10, who looked like he came straight from a cockfight, infiltrated row 3. Within seconds he was booted from the seat, though he apparently could have stayed had he been willing to pay an additional 250 baht ($8, a far cry from the $40+ you pay for the roomier economy seats on American carriers).
The plane took off, the fasten seat belts sign dimmed, and my friend from the monster car rally snuck over to row 4 just as the food and drink service started (of which Diane and I were curious to find out if our faux first class benefits extended to free food and beverages…it didn’t, by the way). The flight attendant again told the man he couldn’t sit there unless he paid her 250 baht, and he started yelling about how unfair it was that he was stuck in row 10 when there were plenty of empty seats up front. For the first time in Asia, I saw a Thai person raise her voice and demand cooperation. The man angrily left the seat; huffing and puffing all the way back to row 10.
The rest of the flight was uneventful, leaving us to wonder what the benefit of the first five rows was that anyone would pay extra for the privilege. It wasn’t for the same lack of legroom and food for purchase that you got in rows 6 and beyond. So what could it possibly have been? And why were we sitting there? We saw the light once we landed in Phnom Penh and it was time to exit the plane.
I was busy gathering my stuff when the angry villagers attempted to storm my castle. Three of them made it through before I stood up and blocked traffic, allowing my fellow aristocrats a chance to get out of their seats. We all shared a laugh and exited the plane. Being that we were among the first ten people in line, we breezed through immigration (despite the fact that we had to pay them extra money in both Thai baht and US Dollars in order to obtain our visas). As we walked away from the immigration desk and over to the baggage carousel where our bags were front and center, we glanced back at the massive line behind us. And that’s when it all became clear. I’d totally pay an extra eight bucks to avoid standing in that line for a half an hour. Who cares about free food and drinks or extra legroom when you can enjoy the convenience of entering a country in under three minutes?
The stars were shining on us that afternoon, and all we could hope was to have that luck follow us into town.
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