“Oh Blimey” I said out loud
QF93 was delayed, well past the departure of my flight, QF29. The Melbourne Qantas [-]RSL Club[/-] First Lounge was teeming to the brim of what I can only assume were Qantas Platinum types – gulping Bintang Lager from champagne flutes and watching horse racing on their mobile televisions.
The delay gave me time to study this, sadly, less than endangered species in its natural habitat. First up there was the out and out flip flop/singlet type openly downing beer at 8:45 AM. Hogarth would have had a field day with this mob.
Secondly there was the surreptitious Bingtang slurper, hiding his/her habit by gulping from a champagne flute, whilst munching, mouth open, on eggs benedict with ham and partaking of something the waiter called a “Lartay” (Whatever that is?) Inwardly I could hear myself say “For the love of god hold the glass by the stem!” It would have been wasted though it seemed unlikely that these types could even spell [-]etty...[/-] [-]etik...[/-] etiquette.
Observing Qantas Platinumus Familius in its home environment was fascinating. The offspring stomped, clumsily, in oversize shoes up and down the main thoroughfare screaming whilst the mother preened herself and the father surrounded himself with an array of electronic devices ready to make complaints on the interweb about feet on chairs.
The final sub species I could recognise was some sort of business type who, whilst wearing trousers/formal clothing would undoubtedly feel significantly more at home wearing singlet and things and supping copious quantities of Bingtang lager.
It was simply ghastly and I wondered what it meant for me now that Qantas had demoted me. I pondered on the thorny issue of managing the number of Platinum members effectively. Perhaps the intoduction of a predatory species might lead to a successful cull. I was struggling to find a more predatory species though.
Earlier I had to wait at the restaurant, Griselda will be writing a letter, before finally being shown to my table.
“Eggs Benedict with Smoked Salmon and a grilled tomato, with a pot of English Breakfast Tea and an orange juice please.” I said to the waitress.
A couple of minutes later the waitress returned to ask me what type of coffee I wanted.
“A pot of English breakfast tea please.” I reminded her.
The tea and juice arrived shorty afterwards.
“err, err, smoked salmon please.” I sighed as the waiter took the eggs bendict with ham away.
In a way I felt a modicum of success, in this modern world, I had at least received one of the three items ordered without further clarification. #sigh#
The Bin 28 Shiraz, whilst not exactly a top notch Claret, proved perfectly adequate to wash down the crumbed pork fillet on flight QF29 to Hong Kong. I was flying on on the the Qantas big aeroplanes, but not the really big one. Griselda had managed to secure a seat upstairs away from the crowds which proved quite conducive to an afternoon nap.
The Qantas biggish aeroplane that took me to Hong Kong
Arrival at boarding gate 26 was not exactly perfect but I was seated in the Cathay Pacific Pier First Class restaurant within 20 minutes of exiting the aeroplane. Fine food, decent wine and superb service.
Arrival at Shanghai Pudong airport was deeply unpleasant. I wonder if airlines deliberately arrange for livestock truck transfers when I am flying with them. :shock: Griselda would be writing to Mr Swire about this particular dire experience.
The staff members at The Hilton Hotel Hongqiao know who I am, and have done for many years.
“We have upgraded you to an Executive Room in Tower 3 Mr Hancock?” The check in lady said.
“I should hope so.” I responded with an air of authority that reaffirmed my importance.
The Hilton Hongqiao is my sort of hotel; the executive rooms are quite large with a new fangled flat screen television that rotates a full 360 degrees. One can easily be amused for hours spinning around on that, although I don’t recommend it after a happy hour G&T Frenzy.
The Executive lounge is spacious and provides a reasonable cooked breakfast and a self-served G&T in the evening, although self-serve does require a certain amount of wrestling to remove the gin bottle from the hands of the hovering staff.
The spacious Executive Lounge at the Hilton Hongqiao - They know who I am
I awoke mid morning on the Wednesday, slipped into my smoking jacket and turned on the television to be greeted by the news that Donald Trump was well on his way to becoming President of The Colonies. This was disconcerting; his avowed intent to reduce the influence of lobbyists in Washington would stymie my attempt to get on that particular gravy train. With the UK voting to leave the European Union my pension hopes rested on a General in Nigeria who I had been negotiating with for more than a year about a an investment opportunity there.
The return journey was somewhat marred by the Shanghai to Hong Kong flight being delayed an hour. This reduced my time in the Cathay Pacific First Class Lounge to just three hours, barely enough for a five course meal and a good go at the well stocked bar.
I added this as a last resort, apparently in it some sort of "Burger"?
There was, however, some comfort to be had by the sight of a rather large British Airways aeroplane parked up against the window. Not that I am a particular fan of large British Airways aeroplanes, but its presence there ensured the rather large Air France aeroplane had to park somewhere else. There is nothing worse being sat in the terminal with an Air France aeroplane approaching one always wonders if the crew has received any training in parking.
The Qantas supper menu did not disappoint. Well when I say it didn’t disappoint it was exactly as expected, and made me particularly grateful for the sumptuous meal I had consumed in the Cathay Lounge. It seems pointless getting Griselda to write yet another letter to that Joyce chappie, he has failed to respond to the last forty-three.
My arrival back in Melbourne was tinged with sadness. I had lost a good friend, and was not likely to replace him for several months according to Griselda. I almost shed a tear as I pulled the expired APEC card from wallet. How could I travel to China without it? I couldn’t bare the thought of queuing with all of the normal travellers.
A few weeks at home at last, I thought, and then my eleventh and last trip to Blighty this year.
….although my time at home was to be cut short by Griselda’s bizarre booking………….:shock:
To be continued
TTFN
:shock:
