The Royal Treatment... Eastbound!

It had happened so fast!

In the space of two years, my American Dream had become a wonderful reality.

USA had proven to be just like I had envisioned the land of opportunity.

Never abandoning my goal after the first turn-off, I had returned to a new audition which was not a surprise for the interviewers and later I had succeeded through all “obstacles “.

Fully appreciating the true glamour of the job which was to be able to enjoy hours on board, in such an intimate and subdued atmosphere of a Boeing 707’s cabin, a melting pot of cultures, with the world as my playground, and the luxury of First class.

On this particular evening, since my arrival in Boston as a Mother’s helper, I would travel again, for a second time, as a passenger on a transatlantic flight but, this time, sitting in First class, my gold wings safely tucked away…to show my “family-in-waiting”.

However, when I had boarded TWA’s flight 800 bound for Paris, although I had set forth this mission of surprising my family, I had decided to enjoy the exquisite prospects of being treated as a Royal in First class!

My window seat was on the last row, its back forward the dividing curtain, separating both classes of service. Out of twelve seats, eight were occupied and no passenger sat next to me. I was enormously thankful to be alone with my thoughts.

Taxiing out, on the ground, my colleague working the First class cabin smiled at me but didn’t acknowledge my status for the other passengers. I was now her guest and would be catered with the same deference …

After take-off, shades had been drawn down, cabin lights softly dimmed, giving an imaginary candle light environment, but with enough clearness to perform cabin’s services.

Cocktails had quickly been served in First class, not from a liquor cart, but individually concocted in the galley then elegantly placed on a small tray on the armrest table...and I had continued with my “pre-take-off “Cordon Rouge … drinking it with tiny lady-like sips.

For dinner, I unfolded the tray in front of me and it was directly set by the hostess with white linen and napkins rolled around real silverware.  Crystal glasses had joined the artistic lay-out.

The first serving cart had been quietly but efficiently filled in the galley…with the bountiful hors d’oeuvres which delicately shared the top tray with a non-metallic bowl nested inside a larger bowl filled with crushed ice.

That was the designated place for the Beluga caviar. It rested coolly, garnished on the sides, with hard-cooked eggs (yokes and whites chopped separately) and minced onion. Finally iced-cold vodka or Champagne was to match the sturgeon eggs with perfection….

I had followed, watching and observing each gesture… like a happily fed copy cat…in silence…and at the same time, relishing through each second of this first event of luxury in my life!

The first course had ended…and the cart had reached the galley to be undressed…for the next chapter.

It was wheeled out ago a few minutes later.

The Purser, leading it down the aisle with the hostess opposite him serving directly from her side, both personally addressing each passenger by their names, was solely responsible for slicing the exclusive piece of meat which had been grilled at high temperature and at the last minute, in the ovens of the galley, and then placed in front of him, on a wooden carving block.

From where I sat, I could see the steam moving upwards from the top shelf which had been adorned with a most delicate pre-charcoaled Chateaubriand Sirloin steak and hunger twisting anxiously in my stomach, I let my nostrils happily accepting the fumes of gravies, mixing harmoniously with the steamed vegetables own scent and the Gratin Dauphinois…and all of these impressions were making me drowsy with extreme pleasure!

The gentle doze off …with my head …after one (etc…) flute of Champagne, anyone would have arrived at the natural assumption that I had now reached a certain stage of inebriation?

You assumed wrong... and let me tell you why!

Forgotten were the industrial and arrogant odours of an airplane…

Disappeared were the fears that my heart had encountered for this mission…

Lost in space the Mumbo jumbo of my English tongue…

As I was returning naturally to my birth language after two years…

 All these elements were balancing, juggling around in my head…and along with the high altitude, I had reached the highest spirits of happiness …truthfully and completely...and I may have appeared “tipsy “to any insensitive soul!

Again... no, my lovely...

Because…you see...life events had made me stoned and, for fear of being exposed, sleep had mercifully fallen upon me!

Whether the First class dessert service had been disturbed by a passing turbulence or not, I would never have witnessed the damages…except the calories …on my body!

Good Night !