“Is there any food?” I ask the lady. We left without dinner, so I’m feeling peckish and not seeing any buffet. I really hope they have food here.
“You can order whatever you like from the menus,” she says, gesturing at two white leather-bound menus on the table. “Take your time and I’ll come by later.”
As she walks away, I look at the menus. “Wow. Fancy.”
“It isn’t bad. There’s going to be a meal service once we’re in the air, so you might want to leave some room,” Griffin says.
“Got it.” Normally in-flight meals aren’t that appetizing, but seeing all the effort the airline put into this lounge, I have a feeling the first-class ones are going to be amazing.
The menu lists all sorts of premium alcohols, cocktails and hot food. I ask for an omelet and some OJ, since it’s morning in Tokyo. Griffin gets a hot turkey and cheese sandwich and two fingers of scotch.
I look around the sparkling lounge and the well-heeled passengers sipping drinks or munching on snacks. I thought I was used to nice trips. Grandma didn’t believe in suffering when she traveled, but she preferred domestic destinations. Which meant none of the incredible experience I’m getting at the moment.
Since Griffin’s reading something on his tablet, I put on my best I-travel-like-this-all-the-time face and text Ellie to let her know I’ll be out of the country. Her reply comes immediately.
–Ellie: WHAT!!!! No way! How come you didn’t tell me????!!!!!
–Me: Griffin planned a surprise trip. I just found out when I got home.
–Ellie: Did you tell him Tokyo was on your bucket list?
–Me: No, but he just knew.
–Ellie: Damn. I know he’s your fake boyfriend, but make him your REAL boyfriend, girl. A guy who flies you to Tokyo for your birthday is a keeper!
–Me: And not in economy, either. We’re flying first class!
–Ellie: Holy shit! I want pictures!
I surreptitiously snap some photos of the lounge and send them to her.
–Ellie: Wow. He sure knows how to treat a girl. I totally approve of this upgrade. That fucker would’ve never remembered your birthday.
I almost shake my head. Todd always handed me something extra on our anniversary, ostensibly to celebrate my birthday. My telling him it wasn’t my birthday never really penetrated. I considered writing a Shakespearean sonnet to tell him, thinking maybe that’d make it easier for him to remember, since he has no problem memorizing famous English poems. But that would have been way too much work.
–Ellie: I want pictures of the plane too! I want to live vicariously through you.
–Me: Okay!
–Ellie: We’ll do something for your birthday when you’re back.
–Me: Works for me!