Best Thing Ever

I know it's an over used phrase. Very few things fall in the "ever" catergory. But trust that my words are true in this case.

So amazing was this thing, that I have fears that the high point of my life has now passed me. I always like to think that the best in life is ahead, but I do not know if I will be able to replicate the awesomeness that happened to me just two weeks ago.

I had just come down with a nasty sinus head cold, the very day I was to leave Ireland and come home. I was not looking forward to this voyage. Altitude plus stopped up brain sometimes equals holes in eardrums. (Right Deb?)

So sadly, I head to the airport praying fervently that this journey would be as painless and fast as possible.

I have platinum status on American Airlines, thanks to the good people at Novartis. This means that I SHOULD have gotten in the short line when checking in on my long flight, but I was steered to the wrong line of cattle and had to wait for ages, and ages and ages. Finally, my underweight bags were checked and I was on my way. A blessedly short security line later, I was meandering around the duty free shops and the little trinket stores waiting for my flight to board. My aforementioned Platinum status has been so boss, I get on the plane earlier, and I now have my pick of the exit rows on the long flights. Oh it's nice. But I had no clue what happiness was in store for me when I wandered up to the line to board.

I walking into the line and the nice lady at the boarding podium (which happened to be the same woman who informed me that I stood in the wrong line earlier) stopped me. Said "OH come with me" I didn't have a clue what was up. She hadn't scanned my ticket either, so how did she know something was up? Was she waiting for my name? Did they find something contraband in my luggage?

Then she wrote a new number on my boarding pass in beautiful blue ink. "You are now 4G. You have been upgraded."

Wha--? Double Take.

Wha--, Wha--?

What does that mean? I wonder as I skip down the jet way to my Trans-Atlantic First Class seat...head still full of fluids.

It means the best flying experience I have ever had. It means orange juice and champange before takeoff. It means crossing my legs freely. (WHAT?) It means noise-cancelling headphones, it means flight attendants who are so nice to you, you want to get up and let THEM sit down in your seat. It meant a little shoe-holder bag...with extra socks in it. A bag of toiletries including fresh-tingly hand lotion, and a moist towelette, toothpaste and toothbrush, a comb and an EYEMASK. It meant parmesean-encrusted salmon with wild rice and freshly baked chocolate chip cookies served on a TABLE CLOTH? It meant my own personal entertainment center. It meant a seat that nearly reclinded to horizontal with zero impact on passengers around you. It means an automated extentable foot rest. It meant big fluffy pillow and a giant gray comforter! Those tiny blankets that make you choose which part of your body is to freeze were a thing of the past. None of these napkin-sized red felt fuzz-generator snuggies. NO SIR.

I nearly cried when I saw the leg room. Almost bawled. My poor, giant, unflexible, poorly-circulated restless legs and my tired swollen aching monster feet have been crushed, crammed, reclined into, rolled over, and inadvertantly mistaken for under the seat luggage.

Tears of joy would have come streaming down my cheeks except my head cold was having none of that. I just kept thanking whoever would hear me. As each wonderment was revealed I kept thinking...I am not worthy. And there SO is a GOD. A God who spoke my love language so ravenously. What more could I want? I am certain I am a much larger percentage less likey to get blood clots from poor circulation. So much more rested with the white noise of the engines cancelled out. And there are SO many buttons on the seat controller! And a vast array of boozes for the chooses. (I declined, since i'm all about hydration when travelling.)

This. Is. The. Way. To. Fly.

Just ask Garth Brook's Manager. I sat by him on the flight, he helped me with the buttons. Yeah.. .he was born in St. Louis. He's kind of a big deal.

"I'm in the music/entertainment business... I'm well.. maybe you've heard... I'm Garth Brooks Manager"

[Gaping Mouth] "Yeah, I've heard of him." I was cool for about twenty minutes before I finally blurted this out:

"You tell Garth I won a walkman karaoke contest singin' 'Friends in Low Places'. You tell him Lindsey in St. Louis says 'Thankyou very much'."

Wasn't I JUST SAYING that Garth Brooks is the greatest American Songwriter of ALL TIME?

I was. Look it up. Two or three posts ago.

Super.
Boom.

It's all downhill from here, folks.

I'm pretty sure.