BEST flight ever.

or, life on the good side of the mesh curtain.
in case i haven't bragged about it, fulbright paid my way down to panama in business class. newark business class, but business class anyway. i showed up expecting no line at check-in, but there was. no fun. also, they only had one bitch taking care of us, so the underprivilegeds were actually crawling along faster. they put EliteAccess Priority cardboard thingies on my checked bags, which made no difference whatsoever when giving them to the x-ray girl. i mean, she was nice, but i suspect she was nice to everybody. they had a short line to pass through security into the gates, but afterwards you were just mixed in with the proletariat. imagine, my hand luggage had to be placed in the same conveyor as non-brand-name bags! the horror, the horror. i want my money back. and by mine i mean the US taxpayer's.

it was cool to "excuse me" my way through the angry mobs and into the plane when they started boarding business class. the seats were wide and crap, but a stupid lumbar support cushion is nothing to write home about. (yet here i go blogging away). i got a very manly bloody mary while waiting for those less fortunate than me to be herded into their "main cabin". oh, i love patronizing euphemisms like that. i kept hoping someone i knew or at least a minor celebrity would walk by so my business classness would be duly noted. no luck. i kept waiting for them to offer more booze, but that didn't happen, either.

then they passed out menus. classy white cardboard thing, all cursive type and whatnot. brace yourself, effie.

To Begin
Roasted nuts served with your preferred cocktail or beverage

Appetizer
Smoked salmon with cream cheese and caviar, accompanied by creamed horseradish.

Salad
Mesclun salad mix with Enclish cucumbers, red onion rings, Roma tomatoes and a Kalamata olive. Offered with Greek vinaigrette.
Freshly baked assorted rolls with butter.

Main Courses
Mixed Grill
Featuring a Sterling Silver (tm) beef medallion in chimichurri marinade with red wine sauce and sautéed mushrooms, jumbo chargrilled shrimp and quesadillas. Grilled red and yellow bell peppers. Buttered green beans. Grilled zucchini.

Breast of Chicken
Seared breast of chicken with herbs and Roma tomato concassée. Roasted garlic mashed potatoes. Red and yellow bell peppers. Grilled chayote.

Pasta Shells
Filled with sun-dried tomatoes and goat cheese, complemented by spicy eggplant arrabbiata sauce, topped with savory chicken strips and sautéed baby spinach. Freshly grated Parmesan cheese will be offered with your pasta.

Dessert
Vanilla ice cream offered with your choice of toppings.

Freshly brewed Timothy's Custom Roasted Milano Blend Gourmet Coffee
Timothy's Verona Blend Decaffeinated Coffee
Tea with your choice of milk or lemon.

We apologize if occasionally your choice is not available.

after a short while we received steaming hand-towelette thingies, japanese-restaurant-style, delivered (and collected) with tongs. enter stewardess with tablecloth, and i mean fabric. very classy indeed. nuts arrive in a little porcelain cup, not a peanut in sight. i get what turns to be a bottomless glass of chardonnay. salad was nice, and the plate of salmon was downright pretty. have i mentioned that we got real metal cutlery? i guess they trust the good food from keeping those in the highjacking business from butterkniving their way into the cockpit.

By now, dear readers, you may be wondering which choice of main course i went for, so i won't keep you in suspense any longer: i got the mixed grill. chicken breast sounded as unexciting as chicken ever sounded, and i can't be bothered with pasta. also, goat cheese smells like goats. ergo, i'm pretty sure i chose right. alas, the main course was lame. the steak medallion was the exact diameter as the slice of zucchini. i compared. it was also about the same thickness, and overcooked to imperfection. it felt like chewing throug a ball of hay, but with less flavor. at least you could wash it down with wine. the (two) shrimp were cumin-yellow and waxy in texture. at least the two square-inch slices of bell pepper were nice. then again you have to be really talented to screw up grilling peppers.

after such a main course i was pretty afraid of dessert. the menu may as well say "boring ice cream", and it was exactly that. i asked for cherries, chocolate and nuts, and the result was as depressing as it sounds. fortunately, i also asked for a glass of amaretto, which is a great way to promote bland portions of crap into edible levels. i had to invest half of it in my "gourmet coffee", as was to be expected. and, as was to be expected, i passed out immediately after finishing both.

by then they had started playing i, robot, a movie whose quality pretty much sums up the whole business class experience: a glossy, overhyped pile of dung. i woke up for the last ten seconds of frasier, and couldn't avert my eyes from the music news capsule that followed. "what? john denver is dead? why is he nude on the cover of the album? and why did they choose a nude picture that clearly dates from 1952? are they trying to trick teeny-boppers? did they just say that young oone (spelled incorrectly) collaborated with david bowie?" of course, the free heinekens made it all the better. then they moved on to a set of capsules promoting texas as a tourist destination, so i moved on to another heineken. who knew they had nordstroms in texas? they also have sleep clinics, apparently, and some NASA control center or something. we should go.

next thing i know the service is making the rounds collecting our cups and cans. since i just started my new beer the girl offers me a plastic cup. five star service indeed. i barely notice when we land, and i leave the plane swiftly, power-walk my way ahead of my fellow business-classers and bomb rush the immigration counter. "is your name darién?", the girl asks. a jaded look and she mumbles an "i thought you were from there". if i had a quarter. thank you mom. one of my EliteAccess Priority bags is the first to come out, but i end up having to wait all of four minutes for the other one. the guy in customs addresses me in english, as the stewardesses did. i exit onto the audience and immediately start melting. the end.