FIRST CLASS

 TRAVELING WELL DRESSED

I set my alarm for 3:38am. It was unintentional. I like precision but last night I was too tired to spin the dial on my iPhone to 3:40 or push it back to 3:35, either choice a bit more reflective of my overly regimented personality. When my trumpeting ring tone went off I was in the middle of what I remember was a dream having something to do with being scolded as a child over dirty underwear and the embarrassment of being found with soiled fruit-of-the-looms in a multi car crash. It was a dream I was willing to rouse out of. I had showered the night before, packed what little I needed to return to the city and laid out my clothes knowing I'd only left myself twenty-two minutes to spritz some deodorant, brush my teeth and dress before leaving for the airport at precisely for o'clock. My flight was at six. My daughter had volunteered to get up and drive me to the Dane County Airport about a twenty-minute drive from the house. 

Traffic was light. I counted three other cars on the road all the way up to the turnoff onto the road leading to the airport. Construction was in full swing at the airport forcing us to drive into the parking lot where Emmy dropped me off. As sweet as she is the showing of affection is not something she is particularly comfortable with especially with her parents. She allowed me to give her a little peck on the check before I grabbed my satchel and computer bag and headed into the terminal.

The heat wave of the day before had broken, but apparently some travelers hadn't heard the weather report. I'm very old school when it comes to the appropriate dress code for airplane travel. Looking at the other travelers dressed mostly in shirts and wrinkled t-shirts making their way through the parking lot and into the check-in area I realized the dress code was clearly of my own concoction. Men in sleeveless t-shirts and girls in Daisy Dukes are not people I want to share an aisle with. My travel attire of loafers with socks (I can't believe people are willing to doff their shoes and expose their bare feet to airport carpeting rubbed by thousands of previous athlete footed passengers), jeans with creases, a pressed white shirt (actually it was perma-pressed), a Ralph Lauren vest and a linen sports coat knowing how cold they sometimes keep the inside of the cabin was the casual but confident look I was going for. A big plus of this look is that it can be a little intimidating to other travelers. On Southwest where there are no assigned seats even if there is only one unclaimed seat on the entire flight it is usually the seat next to me. It also helps that I take an aisle seat requiring anyone who wants a seat in my aisle to have to crawl over me to get there. 

This flight wasn't on Southwest but on Delta. My family hates my loyalty to Southwest and disdain for Delta but now that Southwest has given up all its direct flights to New York I've given up my A-List status with Southwest and become a lowly Delta flyer. I was now flying in an assigned seat with absolutely no power to object to a hairy arm sweating on our adjoining armrest. 

Before the flight I found a vacant leather club chair to sit in against the wall opposite my gate. It was now about fifteen minutes before our flight was about to begin the boarding process when over the airport intercom came "Can Leroy Melahn please come to the La Guardia flight check-in desk". Okay, so now you all know my given first name. As a teenager I had thought of doing what many do who don't like their given names. I thought I might try to go with the initials of my first and middle names that would be LC, but when you say LC Melahn it upped the anti on my getting gender bullied.  I feared people would confuse me with my aunt Elsie and as a teenager I had enough trouble with gender identity to give others the opportunity to push the point. Lee seemed the easiest way out. There wasn't much I could do with my last name, a name that is constantly butchered. So my first reaction to hearing my name over the intercom was a curious sense of mild shock. The person making the announcement didn't try to put an "A" between the h and n in Melahn. Nor did they come out with a chiding "Melonhead" the way my siblings and I have had to endure for most of our lives, but instead gave a correct pronunciation. It came out as "Milan" like the city in Italy. I was startled but then concerned. Had I left something at security, had there been a problem with my ticket? Then I remembered how they had pronounced my name correctly so maybe someone I knew was playing some sort of airport trick on me. That was quickly followed by the concern that something had happened at home and they were going to tell me some awful news. I gathered all my stuff and went up to the counter.

After I introduced myself the man behind the counter did a once over and then said,"Mr. Melahn would you like to be upgraded to first class?" 

"What?" Startled the unspoken subtext was this was a ruse to get me to pay for an upgrade I didn't purchase at the beginning.

"Can we upgrade you to first class?"

"Sure"

And with that he reprinted my ticket with no further explanation. It was a pretty full flight but there were some empty seats. I sat in my single seat aisle without having to worry about a traveling mate. I was served a drink before take off. My bags were taken and stowed for me.  It might have been random, it might have been luck or it might have been divine intervention. I don't know, but remember my tip about dressing the part. I have no proof, but putting on a clean shirt just might push you to the front of the line and you too could get moved into first class.