Upwardly mobile

Before I left the UK, a gay friend of mine gave me a tutorial on getting an upgrade. His fundamental thesis was that you should try and establish a relationship with the airline employee, be it at the check-in desk, gate or on the plane. Techniques include establishing eye contact before you approach, smiling, joking, calling them by the name on their tag etc. I tried variations of these at every stage on my world tour, but sadly it never worked. Airline staff, it seems, take an instant dislike to me and get all huffy on my uptight English ass. That is, until the final leg of the trip. With the heightened security on flights into London, I’d had my bags x-rayed twice, been made to move stuff from one to another, joined countless queues and then, just when I thought it was all over, been frisked and had my hand-luggage searched again in the corridor that takes you down to the plane. Staggering down the final few yards, I rolled my eyes in a conspiratorial way at the lady who was waiting to check my boarding pass. She smiled and greeted me with the magical words, “If you could just wait a moment, sir, there’s been a change to your seat.” I guess my icy front had finally melted. Leaving me with a very pleasant 10 hours.