Winging It

So I get to my seat on the red-eye last night. I have been awake now for about 20 hours, running on four hours sleep, and there's a balding, scruffy bearded man in my seat.
The flight attendant couldn't be nicer.
"Oh! I'm so sorry. Double seated. Wait right here."
He gets on the phone to reservations. Moves the bearded one to first class and gives me my seat.
I'm a little disappointed.
I always think of that scene in Jerry Maguire where Renee Zelwegger tells her son, "It used to be better food, now it's a better life." (or something like that.)
Turns out, the word has spread about this adventure through the US Air staff. They knew I was coming. They had moved me to a seat up front in the plane instead of the one way in the back, where it's a little more cramped, and I would be able to hear flight attendant gossip.
But hey, this isn't as if I'm a restaurant critic and they've going to cook up a special meal. There's only so much you can do to make flying overnight in a crowded plane, originally designed to hold 169 passengers, now holding 183.
I sat next to a Florida 24-year-old who moved to Seattle in June with her black-mouthed cur (the same breed as Old Yeller?) and started a new job. She's coming home to Ft. Myers to see her family for the first time since she left. And she, like most people I've come across so far, has had a fine, smooth trip.
She picked the flight because it was the cheapest. The wierd choice is that people who travel first class don't get much for the money. On most flights, they get their wine in plastic glasses. The food is better, but still not scrumptious. Plastic forks, paper napkins. Yo hon diner style at Striped Bass prices. One of the US Airways veterans I've met over the past two days told me about the days of linens, hot towels, warmed nuts in a ramekin, fine wines.
Now, the attendant says, "You get a bigger seat, free drinks and a meal. There's no WOW factor."
Still, I wouldn't mind trying it.