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Every once in a while when we travel, something magical happens:
The upgrade fairy waves her wand.
For all the lines at check-in and security; for all the delays; for all the lost and broken bags; for all the hotel rooms with noise, air, hygiene, and other plaguing issues; and for the other things that can and do go wrong on the road, this magical being somehow rewards us with the unexpected.
Take, for example, the number of transatlantic and transpacific flights I’d been on over the years, and on every one of which I always had this delusion in my head about being upgraded to first class. Even tried some of the tricks in the book, tried contacts at the airport, all to no avail.
Then it happened. I was returning from a working stint in Japan on the 13-hour Tokyo-New York flight, and spent my final hour in a Narita Airport bar with friends including Johnnie Walker and Monte Cristo. After going through the usual routine at passport control and security, I made my way out to the gate where they were calling my name. The captain was at the door to greet me, a look on his face indicating I’d been pushing my luck. But, in good spirits from Scotch and a cigar, I glanced into the business class section of the 747 and commented that it seemed rather empty.
“New Year’s Eve,” said the pilot, saying I could have a whole row in the back to stretch out.
I made some comment about how my father once owned an apartment complex not far from Northwest headquarters at Minneapolis-Saint Paul that routinely housed airline employees.
“Oh yeah?” The chief’s eyes lit up. “I used to live there.” Well it turned out he didn’t live there per se, but spent a lot of time at what was essentially airline swinger central back in the day. He winked at the lead flight attendant, who asked me to take my seat for the time being.
Seconds later, before I could even stow my bag in the overhead compartment, said FA came back with the good news. She escorted me towards the front of the aircraft, but kept walking past the business class where I’d hoped to land. My New Year’s present from the captain and his crew? Two seats all to myself in first class, row 2, in the nose section of the 747. I rang in 1993 in style.
This was pure luck, of course, dumb luck some would say. A friend who was a regular in this route greeted me at JFK and was right jealous when I told her of my good fortune.
Of course, the upgrade spoiled the next several long-hauls I’d make – the old adage that making an exception can create an expectation.
A year and a half later, again following an afternoon of imbibing, I was blessed by the magic wand of the upgrade fairy.
This time the flight was much shorter, LA-Seattle, but the memory an even better one. I’d spent the day at a series of beach bars with my now-departed friend Steve, and barely made it to the check-in counter at LAX in time – didn’t even have time to change wardrobe beforehand. The airline rep informed me that seats were already fully allocated, but asked that I proceed to the gate where they’d try to accommodate me.
And accommodate me they did, in seat 2F. But there I was, in first class wearing blue swimming trunks and a day-glow green “Pickles Pub” t-shirt, looking like a beach bum and smelling like a distillery. If an uppity I-paid-good-money-for-this-seat type were to arrive in 2D, I thought, they could ask me to leave the flight.
Instead, who should sit down next to me but an executive with Def Jam Records, flying up to Seattle for a promo gig on the radio. His uniform wasn’t much less casual than mine, and not only did he not mind sitting next to a pickled pub-hopper, we continued the imbibing while flying up the West Coast. Of course, somewhere over Oregon it occurred to me that I needed to drive home, as my car was parked at Sea-Tac. The crew caught on and brewed up a strong pot of coffee that helped see me home.
Upgrades needn’t occur only in the air.
We once booked a Marriott in Vancouver through Priceline.com, the travel bidding site where we’ve saved thousands over the years – do I sound like Bill Shatner? Priceline bookings run the gamut of rooms, but sometimes can mean the least appealing room the hotel has to offer. So be it, when saving 50-75% off regular rates (really, I don’t work for Priceline or even own stock). At this particular Marriott, however, we were upgraded to a top-floor suite, and walked into the spacious digs only to see a beautiful sunset right out the window.
Other hotel upgrades have included a junior suite at the Fairmont Turnberry (between Miami and Ft. Lauderdale); a suite in a Hong Kong high-rise overlooking the harbour after nearly 24 hours of flying; and a spacious junior suite at Manhattan’s Grand Hyatt.
Car rental companies will upgrade you as well – but there’s a caveat here. Often times the rep will ask if you want to ‘move up’ from, say, a mid-size to a ‘nice new Cadillac’ or a ‘roomy SUV’ for only X dollars a day. I almost always say no (save for getting that Jeep in Hawaii), and yet they will more times than not go ahead and give the better vehicle at no additional cost. Why? They were out of inventory in the vehicle type that had been reserved. The theme in cars, therefore, is “just say no.”
Upgrades on cruises are said to happen, too – but not yet to us. Not that I’m complaining. We’ve had some tremendous cruise experiences and have been able to secure a couple of prime cabins at bargain prices. We’ve just not had the experience of, for example, booking an inside cabin and ending up in a suite. But the stories are out there.
What’s important to bear in mind, as mentioned earlier, is not to expect these events. Know that somehow, somewhere along the way, good karma will occur. Your patience and endurance in the travel game will pay off with a nice reward, but best to keep it out of mind until then. Good things do come to those who wait – and travel.
