Not a soul was working at the Paris airport customs and a near-riot ensued as beleaguered travelers banged on the glass partitions and demanded service-or at the very least, answers from someone with a pulse. Once the plane disembarked, the Premium treatment came to a hard stop. I woke to the smell of warm, cheesy omelets, accompanied by strong black coffee and an episode of Mrs. Capote’s harrowing story came to a conclusion, I polished off a mousse buried under a cloud of whipped cream, and then I managed to nod off for a few hours. I was admittedly a bit prickly, and in the spirit of the French, tried to protest, but was met with a firm “Safety first.”īuckled and sailing smoothly over the North Atlantic, I tucked into what I’d describe as a pizza-baguette, with a glass of chilly Sauvignon Blanc. The seatbelt sign illuminated and another flight attendant asked me to lift Mimi from her peaceful slumber and get her seated and buckled. Just as Capote boards a train to Kansas alongside Harper Lee (played by the inimitable Catherine Keener), my own journey hit some actual turbulence. I didn’t want, I needed my kid to get some shut-eye. I understand that some might consider floor-sleeping a questionable parenting decision, but I knew I was arriving in a Paris engulfed by transportation strikes. The shows for kids are scant, but before long, Mimi was sleeping soundly in a makeshift blanket-bed I’d created on the floor. One of those gems, Capote featuring the late great Philip Seymour Hoffman, seemed like an ideal way to spend the first two hours of our flight. Once seated, service was speedy and attentive.Īs Mimi, cozy in her jammies, tried on the eye mask from her complimentary travel pack (which also comes with socks and headphones), I scanned the media selection-a seemingly random collection of movies and TV shows, both oldies and new releases, with timeless gems scattered throughout the grid. But a few sweaty and flustered minutes later, we arrived at our seats, which were roomier than in economy and decked out with foot rests, wide arm rests, and cup holders for the aforementioned welcome drinks. Indeed, boarding began with a bit of turbulence-toddler and Yoyo stroller in tow, one of the flight attendants stopped me in my tracks and asked me to break down the stroller. In Premium, the flight attendants were less bubbly than the welcome beverages (foreshadowing the style of hospitality one can expect on arrival in Paris).
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