No, not that. Whatever you’re thinking, be it pitter patter of tiny feet or my much longed for ability to shape shift, it’s not that. Something else happened.
So here’s the thing. I have been travelling for years. I have taken …I don’t know how many flights. But I have never, not once, ever been upgraded. It is a source of great disappointment to me. By the laws of mathematics, surely I should have been upgraded at least a dozen times by now.
Actually my math guru friend explained to me in high school that probability doesn’t work like that. If you start out flipping a coin – or some similar test with two outcomes, which side does a buttered piece of toast land, whatever – you expect to get a 50/50 result on which side up it will land. At first this appears to be the case, but if you conduct the test of a long period of time, you will get a result that is overwhelmingly in favour of one outcome.
What this means is that in terms of a probability experiment, my travelling status is the sticky side of the toast.
You know one time I was amongst the last five people to board a flight. There were two boarding lines, if you went to the one on the right amongst those last five people, they upgraded you to first class. If you went to the one on the left, you got your usual cheap seats. OBVIOUSLY I joined the people on the right. Then a nameless crew member who will forever be my arch nemesis, called me over to the line on the left and handed me a pass for the usual sardine can seating whilst the man to my right murmured to the people in his line, “Oh I think you’ll be the very happy with these seats.” I would have been happy too, really I would have. Sniff.
Now you’re thinking that this time around I got upgraded to first class and gurgled back champagne above the clouds. I did not.
In fact my first flight was delayed leaving me only 20 minutes to race around the domestic terminal in Manila to get to my next flight (to be fair it’s not that far to race, although Manila airport as a whole is enormous, and a pain in the arse to navigate, the domestic terminal has only two gates), and then my connecting flight, I discovered only after I’d sprinted through security throwing belts and tablets into trays in wild eyed panic, had been cancelled.
This is when the good bit happened.
The airline was ready and waiting for me, “We are very sorry madam, the flight has been rescheduled for 4.45 am. No of course you do not have to sleep in the airport. A bus is coming to pick you up and you’ll be taken to a hotel; you’ll be given a wake up call, and a bus will bring you back to the airport.”
Well okay then.
The even better bit? It was a five star hotel. Those beds were so soft and fluffy, but I barely slept a wink because I was enjoying the complimentary use of the gym, and the business centre; and the pool; and the lovely clean bathroom; and the big TV with all its movie channels… which I watched from the soft and fluffy pillows on the soft and fluffy bed. When I did sleep, I was blissfully aware in my subconscious that I was in heaven.
I can rough it with the best of them, but I do not turn down luxury… that is not the Rambling Ro way.