Chapter 1: The Middle Seat

Here's the good news: When the Kuwaitis invited me to take this trip they said the group (there are scheduled to be 10 of us) would fly to New York from Washington, DC; thence to London and onward to Kuwait. The JFK-London-Kuwait legs would be on Kuwait Air.

I am neither opposed nor in favor of Kuwait Air, but I don't have that many frequent flier miles on Kuwait Air and, even if I did, I'm certain how I would use them.

I do, however, have a bunch of miles on Delta and Delta (as we know) flies to Paris. Kuwait Air flies from Paris to Kuwait.

Ergo.

My request was to fly me to Paris on Delta and then let me connect with the Kuwait Air flight and catch up with everyone in Kuwait City.

Voo-ah - as we like to say in France - LA!

To make it all work, however, the ticket was on an Air France flight which was a Delta code share. A code share means it is as if you are flying the airline whose code it is (in this case Delta 8253) even though you are actually on someone else's flight (in this case Air France 039).

The big thing is: You get miles on the airline you want them on so it works out fine.

As part of the airlines' effort to win back passengers, they have made it even MORE difficult to earn higher-levels of frequent flier status.

Delta has required 100,000 miles to be flown annually to reach platinum level. It's worth it. American, on the other hand, requires only 60,000 but you don't get automatic upgrades like you do on Delta.

But (here's the thing) starting in 2003 if you buy a cheap ticket you only get credit for 50% of the distance toward silver, gold, or platinum on Delta. You get one-for-one on a middle-level ticket, but you get TWO-for-one on a first class (or overseas Business Elite) ticket.

Do you see where I'm going here?

I'm going to get about 15,000 base miles toward Platinum for next year. After this trip, if my arithmetic is correct (which is, as you know, not likely) I should have 65,000 miles toward that goal.

And it's only July!

What do you mean, I should get a life?

Delta as, I believe, all US airlines, has gone to two-class airplanes - coach and some variant of business class on all flights: Domestic and international. Delta's top international service is called "Business Elite" which, as it contains the word "elite," is perfect for me.

Air France, however, has maintained the Old Europe three-class system: Coach, business and first. This means that business class on Air France is not, how you say, "elite." It is merely not coach.

The plane I was on was an Boeing 777 and was configured in business non-elite as two-three-two.

I have discussed the need to be in a bulkhead seat with you previously so I will not go through that again. (For those who missed that class it is available here in the first installment of the India Travelogue).

Notwithstanding the continuing, intractable, deep, horrid recession, a lot of people seem to be flying between the US and Europe … with little kids.

People with tiny little kids get preference for bulkhead seats so that the parents - who have no regard for those of us who really want bulkhead seats - can do the kinds of things parents do with tiny little kids in full view of everyone much of which, should I try to describe it, will get this travelogue blocked by your office spam catcher.

Anyway these parents, knowing they can have the bulkhead seats to nurse, and change, and feed, and fool with their tiny little children, selfishly hoard them.

Bastards.

All of which left me in row 9. In the center section.

The reason (for those who arrived late) to be in the middle section is this: If you are in one of the sections next to a window you (a) have to crawl over someone to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night or, (b) be crawled over by someone who wants to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night.

In the center section - you have a better-than-even chance of NOT being crawled over if you are in one of the aisle seats. The secret, of course, is not to be stuck in a middle seat and thus being the crawlee.

The reason you, well I , have a better-than-even shot at not being crawled over is because I am of the male persuasion. I know this will generate hundreds of outraged letters, but this is true. If someone is in a middle seat and the two aisle seats are occupied by a man on one side and woman on the other, the person in the middle will always ask to be pardoned by the woman on the aisle as they crawl over her in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom.

I have tested this theory. It is true. Even if the person in the middle is a woman her own self. Maybe Ellen DeGeneres wouldn't. Nah, she would - hoping to, you know, make a friend.

As you know, I have a perfectly terrific French accent. I can say merci like a bloody native. I can say, merci, monsieur (or, alternatively merci, mademoiselle) in that sing-song way French people do. I am an tres internationale.

As I got on the plane at Dulles airport, I said to the flight attendant at the doorway, "bonjour, monsieur" in that jaunty that way I do, which was so native-sounding that the flight attendant jabbered something in French and smiled and pointed to his gauche (his right, being first class) and I went three rows back to row 9.

This is the sign above row nine:

NOTE: This is not a broken link. There is no photo for reasons which will be explained below. The sign said "GFE" with a stick figure next to the "E."

Without spending a lot of time examining the sign you might assume that seat E is on the far end of the row.

Why would you think this? Ok. You wouldn't. But I would. And I did. For several reasons.

First, I am directionally disabled. I don't know my left from my right. Really. I am in my mid-fifties and I don't know my left from my right.

I think it stems from the fact that I am left-handed and, in second grade, Mrs. Moore taught the mnemonic for knowing left from right by saying "You write with your right."

See the problem? I should sue the New Hyde Park New York Union Free District Number Five School District.

I recently I wrote a Mullings which included something about Iran being surrounded by US forces - in Afghanistan on its Eastern border and in Iraq on its Western border.

This is only true if you happened to be standing on your head, examining the planet Earth, from Neptune. Or in my case - Uranus.

Second, I don't know my alphabet that well. In order to alphabetize things I have to actually SING the ABC's song. Not from the very tippy top, I'm not that stupid. But if I'm trying to figure out where the "U" thing goes, I have to start at elemenohpeequeareesstee before I get to "U."

I had to sing that to myself as I was typing.

Tell me you don't have to do that.

Liar!

Because I was attempting to show my savoir faire in matters of flying overseas, I quickly walked to the far side of this row and took off my sport jacket waiting for someone to take it from me as I was, after all, not in coach.

Another flight attendant took my jacket and I said "merci" in that I-travel-to-many-interesting-places way I have about myself - did you know I have been, in the past 30 days, to Cody, Wyoming? Yes. Yes, I have.

The flight attendant didn't just jabber in French, he started reciting the European Union draft Constitution.

I finally said, in English, "All I say is, 'merci.' That's all I know. Everything else is English. Except 'bathroom.' I know 'bathroom' in Spanish."

A couple across the aisle laughed out loud.

"I'm here all week," I said, sharing the joke with them.

I think.

I settled in, taking out my computer (which is a Toshiba R-100 which weighing 2.3 lbs and has a battery system which is supposed to last about seven hours. I'll let you know), pulling out Harry Potter (which I intend to read as soon as dinner is over) and my Bose Anti-Noise-Cancelling-Only-The-Most-Season-Travellers-Have-These-Or-Have-Any-Reason-To-Have-These earphones.

Eight seconds later yet another flight attendant told me, in a French accent, I was in the wrong seat and made me move over one - to the middle - and a young woman was seated in my place.

Where, I ask you, is Ellen DeGeneres when you need her? For that matter, where is that blonde girl who was Ellen's lover for a while and was in that movie with Han Solo about being stranded on an island after their plane crashed. What's her name? No. Not Darryl Hannah.

I moved, without complaint, to the middle seat. I was complaining plenty inside, but I smiled with equanimity over this outrage.

The French. The damned French. This is payback. I know it. Air France has a guy who's only job it is to read Mullings and keep track of all the horrible things I say about France.

I walked to the boarding door so I could go out and see if there was an aisle seat available.

The Purser, a very nice French woman, told me I couldn't get off the plane due to "security concerns."

I explained about the middle seat issue, and she explained that the flight was very full.

Here's a little back story: A really pretty red-headed woman with a little tiny baby wanted to roll her little tiny baby onto the plane in Business Class in the baby's stroller. But the stroller was the size of a Mazerati and the gate agents told her they would check the stroller for her, but she would have to walk and/or carry her child and the kid's stuff - which was enough equipment to invade Normandy, by the way.

In spite of the fact she was a cute mommy, she was a pain-in-the-derriere (do you see how I'm weaving this French stuff in and out? Pretty good, huh?) and complained VERY LOUDLY about how much trouble this decision was causing her.

The others of us in the First Class-Business Class line (which was much shorter than the steerage class line) all looked at one another and clucked.

Really. We all clucked. Or tsked. Well, we made some noise with out mouths which was definitely not a kissing sound.

So, I didn't want to be like the cute red-head and cause a scene.

I wasn't happy. But I wasn't showing it.

The Purser came to me and said that she had an aisle seat but the in-flight movie unit didn't work at that seat. As I am not certain about the 7-hour battery deal with my new 2.3 lb. Toshiba, I thanked her, but said I'd stay where I was. She told another flight attendant that if an aisle seat was available, he was to give it to me.

She was, as I said, very nice. Maybe she was Swiss.

As it turned out, the flight attendant who had seated Ellen DeGeneres' girlfriend had misread my boarding pass thinking it was 9F; when in reality it was 9E the - what? - the aisle seat on the other side.

In the end the middle seat was empty, so Ellen DeGeneres' fiancée and I had that seat to use as our own personal storage bin.

Pretty cool. Except for what I discovered later.

Dinner was "Fillet of orange roughy with sweet and sour ginger sauce." Two "l's" in fillet.

No picture here, either.

This was preceded by smoked salmon and cheese.

Here's what the dish looked like:

Or here.

The salmon was terrific, but "fried sweet potato julienne" must be French for "asparagus."

If you were naming a vegetable, how many choices would you go through before you got to "asparagus?" Ass-PARE-uh-gus. Could it be any more unappetizing?

They named snails "escargot." A pretty nice name for a snail, when you think about it. They re-named Dolphin "Mahi-Mahi" because no one wanted to eat what they thought was Flipper, even though Dolphin is a fish and not a mammal.

Asparagus? I mean, what were they thinking?

There was also no noticeable "sweet and sour ginger sauce" on the Orange Roughy which, by the way, was not orange. The only orange things were the steamed carrots.

Now that's appetizing. Steamed carrots.

Say, can I have a double portion of those steamed carrots, please? I'm punishing myself.

Everything else on the flight was fine. After dinner I had coffee with Bailey's to help me sleep. I didn't immediately fall asleep so I had another.

That did it. I started getting sleepy at about 8:00 pm Eastern time, which was about 2:00 am Paris time. I wanted to see if the computer battery would last as long as promised, but &(#0cx=3_v$),/? %^&*()). . .

Afterword

I Am An Idiot I: I am titling this Afterword I Am An Idiot, because I assume this is not the last time I will be an idiot on this trip. The specific reason that I am an idiot is because I left my camera sitting, I think, on that empty seat between me and Ellen DeGeneres' wife on the IAD - CDG flight. I didn't realize I was missing my camera until I got to Heathrow (where I am meeting up with the rest of members of our group) and I wanted to take a photo of the Kuwait Airways lounge.

I guarantee you the Royal Family doesn't sit it out here waiting for their flight. At least I don't think they do.

Anyway, I had to check my roll-aboard in Washington. Air France thought it was too big and too heavy for their tender airplane. I am on my best behavior (I am writing this from Heathrow so I am on my best behaviour) so I simply allowed them to check it through to Kuwait.

What do you think the chances are of me and my bag getting to Kuwait after three countries, three airplanes and two different airlines? Me, too.

One of the things I checked was my go anywhere and plug in anything set of plug adapters. I needed a US to UK adapter so I could recharge my computer for the eight-hour flight from London to Kuwait.

When I got to the Kuwait Air lounge I expected they would have them freely available for their passengers.

Hahahahahahahahaha.

Just for the heck of it, I checked through my shoulder bags to see if I had put that particular set of electronic gizmos in one of them. That's when I realized I not only didn't have a plug adapter, I didn't have a digital camera to recharge if I did.

The photos which were supposed to fill in above are on the camera which is now, I assume, being used to take French pictures (if you know what I mean, and I think you do) by some member of an Air France cleaning crew.

I went to the duty-free in Terminal 3 to buy a plug adapter, but you couldn't just buy one adapter, you had to buy another whole set which cost about 12 Pounds so I didn't.

What I DID do was spend about $400 buying a new camera.

When you put it on your credit card, it's really free.

The best part is this: The plug in thingee which comes with the UK version of the Canon camera has a plug which fits my computer.

So.

I saved about $18 by not having to buy a set of adapters.

Isn't life grand?

NEXT: Air France loses everything else.

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