GF's Excellent Adventure: Day 1

It is after midnight in Dee-troit, The Big City of childhood memory.

My first ever First Class plane trip was a success; at least it was a giant step for womankind beyond Cattle Class – I guess I'll call it Happy Cow Class. With more comfortable seats, no passenger elbows to poke you awake, and unlimited free food and drink (golly, even hot towels before the meals), it made my two-step trip from San Jose to the Texas hub to the Detroit terminal very bearable.

Granted, this 21st century mode of flitting about is not "fun," in the way that I recall from my early days of flying. (That was well after Amelia Earhardt disappeared into the clouds, I'll have you know.) Those were the days when we dressed up in chic two-piece suits and silk blouses and heels and pearl necklaces; when soft music was playing as you boarded, and beautiful young stewardii greeted you at the door with exuberant smiles rather than tired sighs. (I heard a couple of those travel-gals talking on the shuttle bus; they are assigned 12-hour days, with one day off/one day on. If the pilots are on the same sort of schedule, Lord help us.) In those bad old days or yore, drinks were served a-plenty, as soon as a safe altitude was reached, with a choice of munchy snacks and a printed menu distributed to you, so you could decide on your hot three-course lunch or dinner choice. (Good cognac was offered after dessert, too, if you wished.)

But back to reality: I am safely ensconced in a nice Marriott airport hotel; took a wonderful, needle-spray shower when I got here tired and sweaty, and am ready for a good night's sleep. I did some thinking during the flight about what I hope to learn about myself during this adventure. More on that tomorrow, after I get my wheels in the morning and drive to Ann Arbor to look at the old home town.