on increasingly inaccurate blog descriptions

Well, despite my previous protestations, I have now officially travelled in business class on a business trip, making a slight
mockery of this blog's justification. Presumably due to the much-publicised fact that business travellers are abandoning business class en masse in these times of belt-tightening, Qantas is obviously stuck with the problem of some fairly inflexible seating layouts. They are obviously saving money by reducing capacity on some routes (the daily Sydney-Tokyo is now A330 instead of 747), which means fuller planes - except in business class (and presumably first). So us upper tier frequent flyers are obviously reaping the benefits.

My recent upgrade to business class was Sydney to Hong Kong, and this time I hit the jackpot - "turn to right sir and proceed up the stairs." For those who have never been upstairs on a 747, it's all business class - only 6 rows of four seats. Once one is seated, it's like the 350-odd people downstairs simply don't exist. Of course, given that it was a day flight, the appeal of lying flat wasn't so apparent, and you realise that the main benefit is really just that level of removal from your fellow passengers. This was unfortunately challenged by the woman I was sitting next to who spoke no English and was determined that I should make selections and adjustments to her entertainment program whenever necessary. Strangely she seemed quite content to watch Wake In Fright (1971 Australian outback film) without any subtitles.

on travel weight gain

I am in an abusive relationship with the breakfast buffet. Every time we get back together it ends in tears. Unfortunately I just can't seem to stay away. I should clarify that I'm not talking about previously encountered questionable buffets. What I am talking about is the buffet of quality and variety such as I repeatedly encounter at the Hilton Kuala Lumpur. I try to justify eating the pan au chocolat by reminding myself that thin and glamorous French people eat them all the time, but I have to concede that they probably haven't already eaten a full plate of omelette, sausages, rendang and roti. I set myself the challenge every time I stay of attending the buffet but resisting its unnecessary advances, and I thought this time I was actually starting to gain the upper hand. Turns out that my strength of will only applies to breakfast, and not for happy hour at the executive club lounge. Damn those cute little pies.

on inaccurate blog descriptions

So my statement that this is a blog for someone who never travels business is now slightly less true. Although I won't change it just yet, because technically I still haven't travelled business class for business. I was however a recipient of an upgrade to business class on a personal trip. While lying flat(ish) is certainly desirable, I think it's actually the business class blanket that impressed me the most. If they provided those to economy (instead of the static-charged ones you normally get) then there'd be hundreds of happier people. But really I wanted to share the dangers of the business class upgrade. It's not that it spoils you for the next flight (although obviously it does) but more that one has to face the fact that one is probably not the only upgrade recipient. Thus, the general public that you think you left behind may indeed have snuck their way in front of the Curtain Of Privilege along with yourself. In this last particular instance, I shared the (spacious) row with a young gentleman who was, let's face it, a dirty hippy. I tolerated his (undoubtedly smelly) dreadlocks and his sandals, but what took the cake upon landing in Sydney was his need to get up WHILE WE WERE STILL SLOWING ON THE RUNWAY (where was the disciplinary flight attendant?), open the overhead bin to retrieve his ukulele, and then START PLAYING SAID UKULELE as though it were some sort of welcoming/cleansing ritual. All I could manage was a feeble "you can't be serious" to no-one in particular. I've said it before and I'll say it again. F**k'n hippies.

iron cord art 2

This is from Le Meridien Kota Kinabalu.

I'm impressed by a certain carefree casual elegance in this arrangement. But mostly I think I just like the smokey pink plastic.

on how to fly

Not so much flying lessons, but passenger etiquette:

1. Check-in. Tempting as it may be, don't feign ignorance or possession of a pram as a reason to use the priority check-in queue. Us frequent flyers have sweated for this privilege. And that "you're not really going to send me to the back of that queue over there, are you?" look is going to fall on suitably deaf ears. Or blind eyes, as the case may be. You knew you were trying to pull one.
2. Boarding. Take out whatever you will need on the plane before you board. If you must spend five minutes deciding which books/magazines/ipods/drugs/entertainment you need to pull out of your bag, please step into your seat row and out of the aisle. Remember, you only need to make it until they turn off the fasten seat belt sign. Also, people put valuables and breakables in their carry-on - leave the violent baggage handling to the professionals on the tarmac.
3. Seat pocket. You know how you can feel it when the person behind puts things in and out of the seat pocket? Well, you're doing the same to the person in front of you. Magazines and small items only, the seats are uncomfortable enough without an apple in the small of your back.
4. Departure. Seat back in the upright position and tray table locked during takeoff. No need to test them beforehand. If you have a child, please inform them that playing with the seat back, tray table, and seat pocket is a no-presents-from-Santa-this-year offence. Bring restraints if the child is prone to kicking the seat in front of them.
5. In the air. A simple check behind you before reclining is appropriate. Press the button while leaning forward, and then slowly push back into the seat. To get out of your seat, use the armrests and your seat back for leverage, not the one in front. I have been catapulted out of many a hard won nap by the forward grab and release method.
6. Space. Aisle and window seats have one non-challengeable armrest each, plus other benefits, so a sandwiched person should have at least one armrest allocated to them. Your size does not give you automatic armrest rights. Feet should be positioned within the armrest boundaries, as should shoes, handbags and superfluous blankets and pillows. Where one seat is significantly disadvantaged by the entertainment system box, the passenger should be allowed some courtesy space beyond the armrest boundary.
7. Deplaning. If you are from a row behind me, don't even try to leave before me.

By paying heed to these small rules, you can ensure that my, oops I mean your, next flying experience is at least tolerable.

on what i want from an elevator

Usually one's hotel room number consists of 3-4 digits. The last two are insignificant, it's the first one or two that determines how valued or lucky you are. I'm not quite sure why. The higher floor you are on, the more time it takes to get there and away. Which is where the elevator comes in. At the moment I'm on the 25th floor at the Hilton Tokyo and the elevator knows just what to do. The doors close with assured precision rather than an awkward or bouncy clumping sound, and the lift accelerates subtly to a significant speed and decelerates just as unassumingly. The overall impression is that I'm there faster than expected, and with no unnecessary fanfare. And the view is quite nice.

on not letting the story get in the way

As a wary and ever-vigilant traveller in this time of swine fever, I was of course attracted to the headline in a local Malaysian paper today: "226 suspected cases of H1N1 nationwide." It wasn't until the 2nd paragraph that the journalist reported the fact that 224 of these cases were found to be not infected. That left two positive cases (known previously), who had already been declared free of the virus. Meaning that there are zero cases in Malaysia at the moment. Which to me opens up a whole new field of possibilities for employing the word "suspected" without being constrained by any evidence to the contrary. Newsflash: "leery traveller" blogger suspected of being witty, wealthy.

the upgrade roller-coaster

The dizzying highs, the terrifying lows. As far as flying goes, I've been upgraded to business class once (many years ago) and once to premium economy (the existence of which has made the business class upgrade an even more elusive possibility). Of course the upgrade makes the subsequent flight measurably more miserable, and the temptation to spend points on an upgrade ever more appealing. Just today Qantas sent me an email offering that I could upgrade my upcoming Sydney to New York flight, despite the fact that "your seat booking class is usually not eligible for upgrade." I'm honestly surprised they're prepared to tolerate my sort in premium economy. Presumably they'd sanitise me somehow first.

In terms of hotels, the best upgrade I've had was to the Royal Suite at the Radisson in Santiago, Chile. Of course, it was hard to make full use of the separate dining room, as I checked in at 2am, and had to check out 7 hours later. When I had two nights there a few days later I was back to a regular room with an eternally blocked toilet and a relationship with the hotel plumber forged in adversity. 

Tonight I checked in to Le Meridien Kota Kinabalu (infamous on a previous trip for a colleague finding a cooked cockroach in their breakfast) for one night and have been upgraded to a suite (shown here). Although I only have a few hours in the room, I've so far managed to eat dinner at the dining table, rest on the sofa in front of the lounge room TV, post to this blog from the work desk, hang a pair of pants in the walk-in-wardrobe, snaffle a complimentary copy of Newsweek for tomorrow's flight, and will spend some time reclining languorously on the chaise longue before taking to the bed. It's all about making hay while the sun shines, and resisting the nagging feeling that this should be the natural order.

simple things

Why does one never remember to unwrap the bathroom soap before one's hands are too wet or gooey with hair product to easily do so?

Diarius, the roman god of scheduling

When I travel for work, I usually need to fit in as many meetings in as few days as possible. When I first started to do this, I used to get stressed about the variables that need to be juggled in order to do this: flight schedules, meeting availabilities, arranging by location, transport times, etc. Then of course there's the delay in confirmations - do you give a range of options, do you wait for each meeting to be confirmed, what's the politics of withdrawing an offered slot?

But I suspect that all that angst is wasted, as I've become increasingly suspicious that there's a whole 'nuther field of science here waiting to be discovered. Because experience seems to show that the later you leave the arrangements, the more likely they are to oddly fall into place. Once it's down to the last week, some sort of magical force steps in, and the schedule just seems to magically coalesce. People quickly agree to proposed times and others randomly request meetings right at the time you have a gap in the schedule.

In fact, I'm thinking about taking this to the next level on my next trip: I'll just book a flight in and out of wherever I need to go, and then if meetings are meant to happen, they'll just happen. I may go as far as booking a hotel, to be safe, but other than that I'll just head to a cafe on the first morning and see who turns up.

Of course the other conclusion is that the boy scout motto "be prepared" is not worth the woggle on which it was carved.