Thursday, October 1st, 5:46am Eastern Standard Time

The first shuttle from the hotel to Philadelphia International Airport was full; every seat taken. Roman and I stand in misting air, waiting for the shuttle bus to make a lap of the airport and come back for another load of humans. I should have woken us up earlier. Force someone else to obey snooze-loose law.

Other nervous passengers wait for the shuttle to return. Boarding times are absolute and the TSA is the biggest variable.

5:53am

Shuttle returns. The driver asks plainly "Which Airline?" He says it slow, with brutal eye-contact, and sounds out every syllable: "Which...Air...Line?" The hotel gets a lot of international travelers.

More passengers board the van. "Which...Air...Line?"

6:10am

No security line. None. This is a beautiful and terrifying thing. Have you ever experienced it? I walk though the snaking-cattle shoot. The TSA agent watches me; left turn, right turn, left turn, straight. This parted set of red tape makes up for missing the first shuttle bus run, but opens up a new challenge. I'm not mentally prepped for the scrutiny. When there are people in line, you have time to ready your laptop, untie your shoes, hold your ID and boarding pass in one hand. If there are people in line, I can watch everyone's uncle fumble and grumble while I slip efficiently though like George Clooney in "Up in the Air."

No line? Go-Time! I'm judged by the TSA agent. I fumble with my ID and foolishly leave my wristwatch on. It sets off the Stargate Scanner. With gloved hands, the scanner agent examines my Yard-Sale watch.

6:25am

Salmon bagel. $4

6:28am

Roman buys a bottle of water. The Saladworks clerk has tattoos on his fingers. A dollar-sign is on his pinkie finger. He starts every word with the letter "D."

"Da diddle-de done dirdy devon."

Translation: "That will be one thirty-seven."

A slick pilot rolls by looking like every other pilot. Except his rolling luggage has light-up disco wheels.

6:45am

Pork pie hats don't work in airports.

A Stephen Cross lookalike checks the time. His white belt matches his white shoes.

A late 50's former High School football star invades the personal space of the gate clerk at A4. He drapes his thick hands over the edge of the counter and takes his worthless stand-by pass back without smiling.

7:00am

A gate clerk makes an intelligible announcement: "Hgmmmgmmm US Airways flight 797 Hgmmgmmmgm Los Angles hmmmgmmggm. We're just mmmgggmmmg, please be patient."

7:01am

Crowds fidget. Waiting passengers shift their weight from one foot to another. The clerk make a clearer announcement. "We would like to board our First Class and any active military passengers first."

RCR has first class tickets.

I walk with projected indifference as if I've walked past everyone one hundred times before. Priority boarding.

7:07am

Seated...comfortable. My first time flying first class.

This airliner is an Airbus A321. A medium range machine first made in 1993. The A321 has a maximum takeoff weight of 21,200 pounds. The Airbus A320-series are powered by two IAE V2500 high-bypass turbofan engines. The A321 is a stretched version of the A320 and uses a variant of the IAE V2500 called the V2533-A5. It did a bunch of creatine and farted a lot. The V2533-A5 makes 33,000 pound-feet of thrust compared to the IAE V2500 which made about 25,000 pound-feet of thrust.

The first class seat is about three inches longer than a traditional seat. The armrest between the seats is about a foot wide.

The seat leg spacing is the same narrow width as coach. It is still hard to stuff my backpack under the seat in front of me.

Hey! It's an egg-white-eating Aaron Paul type...he's walking to coach.

A Conshohocken couple behind me upgraded from coach to first class. "Best $200 I ever spent!" said the husband.

There are no trays on the seat in front of you. The trays transform out of the armrests. So fancy!

I get a drink while coach passengers are still boarding? Club soda? So fancy!

I want to whip-out the GoPro and start filming things, but all the coach passengers are looking at me as they pass. Gaze and be amazed at ME, already comfortable and remaining so.

The round 1980's video game arcade cabinet jump-button that makes your seat recline is the same in first-class as it is in coach. I don't know what I was expecting.

A foreign-accented pre-teen puts his backpack in my overhead compartment, then walks back to coach. I know I don't have anything of mine up there...but it's the principle of the thing. Whatever.

"I'll tell you Sharon, this is the best damn $200 I ever spent!"

8:25am

In the air, still keeping my watch on eastern time.

Seated next to me is a US tennis player. She is going to Palm Springs for a tournament. She sounds German but is from the Ukraine. She's lives in New Jersey. She asks me what brings me to Los Angles. I tell her I am an automotive journalist. She is very interested, flatteringly so.

Her name is Lisa. She is married and has a one-year old son. She wants to know about cars. I tell her I learn as I go...then I say I know little about tennis. Lisa said she spends everyday talking about tennis and it is a nice change of pace to talk about something else. I tell her I write for Road & Track and make no mention of Regular Car Reviews. RCR would take too long to explain and I don't have many female fans anyway.

I only say: "I do a YouTube show about cars."

"Is it on TV?" She asks.

"No, no just online," I say, "maybe someday." I smile and hold up two crossed fingers.

8:35am

Apple juice in a GLASS! All you plebes back in coach have to make do with your hockey arena, can't-fight-with-em plastic cups.

A gray haired man in the seat in front of me reads on a Kindle Fire. The gap in the seats is wide enough for me to read too. Here's what he is reading:

"Her skin glistened and the shadows played with her taunt body as she climbed out of the pool."

Grey-Haired Kindle Man's wife looked out the window.

9:00am

Breakfast is served. I ask the flight attendant, in an apologetic tone: "Would it be OK if I have a Bloody Mary?"

Lisa, the tennis player tells me that she owned a 1991 Opel Astra back in the Ukraine. She told me that it was the biggest pile of garbage she ever owned. She told me that Ladas were better. She owned two.

9:45am

We're almost halfway there? Time moves fast in First Class. I am not sore. I have a belly full of food and booze. I am content. It is quiet up here. Lisa and I are the only ones talking except for "Best $200 Husband." I don't feel like I am on a plane. I feel like I am in a small cafe.

9:55am

Baby cries in the back somewhere. Now it feels like a flight again.

10:05am

The first-class bathroom is larger than coach but not much. There is more headroom.

10:45am

Drifted off to sleep for a bit. Delightful.

The airblowers are stronger in first class than they are in coach. My face is sufficiently ventilated.

11:15am

Landed. Hello L.A.

"I'll tell you Sharon, this is the best damn $200 I ever spent!"

I am the sixth person to exit the plane.

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