I Drink Champagne

Before boarding my flight to LA from Heathrow, the stray thought came into my mind that it'd be lovely to drink a glass of champagne over the Atlantic.  This thought was extravagant and something to do with my excited anticipation of a long journey, and it came true. The way it came true was like this:

My seat on the flight was a window seat (excellent news given that we'd be flying over Greenland) by the emergency exit (excellent news for the taller traveller as there are no seats immediately in front). I was greeted by two other taller travellers who assumed I'd chosen the seat especially, or paid extra for it.  I hadn't, which started the conversation going about height, and then about other easy topics like travel, Donald Trump and Arsenal football club.

The other thing about sitting en route to the emergency exit is that there are jump seats opposite for the crew.  There is something reassuring about this, especially on an Airbus A380 which is a double decker, and (smart though it is) has the distinct look of a vehicle which might find it hard to get off the ground.

During takeoff, the two cabin crew members sitting opposite us joined in our conversation which took, via various means, a turn into Spanish. By the time we'd reached a few thousand feet and the crew could leave their seats, we were being offered champagne.  Thirty minutes later, we were being asked if we'd like refills.  I accepted, of course, and stretched out my legs a little further.