It is a day of #winning, so first up, the winner of the Chux Hamper of Awesome:
Congratulations Matimdan OS. Loved your little cleaning ditty!
You have but 7 days to contact me, lest I have to conduct a re-draw on thee!
And that would be my poor attempt at a little ditty of my own. I promise never to do it again.
May you be equally as impressed with the products themselves, as you are with the extra wine, vodka and shoes funds that this win will allow you to siphon from your shopping budget!
And on to my own #winning, a post that is sponsored only by #1Hubby's PIN predictability allowing me to upgrade my flights using his frequent flyer points, and simply advise him of the fact at a much later date, rather than ask in advance and risk having to provide all manner of personal favours to convince him.
I would've said it wasn't worth all that effort, but having experienced the Qantas Business Class lounge, it totally would've been.
It's okay, I can say that without risk of future indebting myself to #1Hubby, because he doesn't read my blog. His loss, heh. And to his boss and co-workers who do, let's just keep that between us, okay?
I was a Travel Agent for an all too brief period of time. Best job ever. Worst pay ever. I always coveted me some Business Class flying time. I spent far too much time reading up on the latest cabin improvements, lounge inclusions and the like.
Covet no longer, for I have finally experienced it peeps - Qantas Business Class. Sigh.
The seats were big and comfy, the food and drink was plentiful - and that was just the lounge. I admit, I considered entering and exiting a few times, just so everyone would notice that I was fortunate enough to be travelling business class. But, nobody was looking and I was worried they'd revoke my access on account of classless behaviour.
So I got acquainted with my bubbly (we got along very well), and then I got acquainted with the loo since I'd become so acquainted with the bubbly. Then I found the food. I love me some anti pasto and this stuff didn't disappoint.
I people watched, I gazed as planes came and went. It was like the most awesome 4 hours of my life (sorry kids). Four hours because I had stuffed up my flight time, forgetting that daylight savings ended the day before.
Towards the end of my time in the lounge, I openly willed for a delay. I sent #1Hubby a text, begging him to phone through some sort of non-threatening threat that would see me locked down in the lounge. But he was totally useless to me, as he was experiencing "white line fever", on account of my imminent return to take over the bulk of the parenting after 6 days.
Next time (mega optimism on my part), I'm totally arriving eight hours before my flight.
So then I swanned over to my gate to board the plane. I was so sure people would just know I wasn't a genuine business person, that I hadn't paid for my big seat at the pointy end of the plane. In my mind, I had FREQUENT FLYER POINTS UPGRADE tattooed on my forehead. So I instead went all "Ab Fab" Patsy and Edina style exaggerated hand movements and strutting in an effort to fit in.
It did not work.
Luckily, the crew were awesome. Seriously. QF773, Melbourne to Perth, Monday 2nd April - you ladies rocked my world. They were so friendly and accommodating. They made me feel comfortable and welcome, which is quite something given my paranoid neurosis about being asked to step back to where I belong in the back of the plane.
I ate, I drank, I snuggled down to sniff the leather of my seat - confident that it was almost brand new, and therefore couldn't have been tainted by the covert farts of too many old business men.
I watched movies. I snuck a glance back to the Economy peeps as I attempted to hold my wine glass in a sophisticated manner befitting the Business Class cabin.
Then I asked to keep the container from my Maggie Beer ice cream so that I could take a picture for my website and write about it.
And that would be yet another example of totally blowing the illusion of sophistication.
Full credit to the cabin crew. They actually offered me more. Which I totally would've accepted had the guy next to me not looked at me in horror. It was a little too much for him, the prospect of sitting next to the classless ice cream glutton while he's trying to simultaneously highlight his Lonely Planet Spain book and type up a lengthy engineering report - effortlessly appearing cultured and important. I'm impressed.
So, instead, I bring you this:
My solo, lonely Maggie Beer ice cream container. That woman should be a national treasure.
So would I pay for the privilege of sitting at the pointy end of the plane again?
Absofreakinglutely. If only it wasn't for the finance-sapping Feral Threesome.
Instead, #1Hubby and I are now in mad competition for Qantas flights, as we scramble to see who can use up the remaining frequent flyer points on Business Class upgrades first. Sadly, he is winning.