Sathnam Sanghera: Easy way to business class
For a number of reasons, not least the agony of sitting for eight hours in a space that even a baby baboon would consider cramped, I do not enjoy international air travel. But last weekend, having to go to New York to visit a close friend, I had the brilliant idea of minimising the pain by flying business class.
The only problem with this brilliant plan was that it transpired, during the ticket-booking procedure, that the only way I could possibly afford a business class ticket was to sub-let my flat and move into the baby baboon enclosure at London Zoo for the remainder of the year. So, instead, I settled on buying an economy ticket and attempting something new: blagging an upgrade.
There was no shortage of advice available from magazine articles, from colleagues and from specialist websites such as bumptracker.com. In fact, wangling an upgrade from “goat class” or “wing class” to business seems to be something of an obsession for frequent travellers and, in particular, for frequent business travellers, many of whom have suffered at the hands of budget-conscious employers in recent years. Some become so addicted to the process of trying to get upgraded that they even try it on with low-cost carriers such as EasyJet.
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Among the tips proffered were: checking in early; checking in late; travelling alone; travelling with cute kids; carrying a wedding dress; covering luggage in business class stickers; flashing gold frequent-flyer cards; flirting with the male and female crew; being pregnant; vandalising an economy seat and then asking to be moved; claiming family bereavement; crying; complaining repeatedly; arriving in a wheelchair; carrying a Mont Blanc pen; wearing a nice hat; and generally looking rich and “suitable for upgrade”.
Clearly, some of these tips were more practical than others, but I arrived at the Virgin Atlantic check-in area at Heathrow determined to try out as many as possible, concentrating in particular on flirting and looking rich. However, as I let some (borrowed) airline gold cards fall out of my wallet, threw around a copy of the Financial Times How To Spend It magazine (what better indicator of wealth?), and smiled what I believe to be my most devastating smile, I hit a problem: the woman behind the counter wasn’t interested. In fact, she looked bored. When I asked if she was having a nice day she just muttered. And when I remarked it would be lovely to have “a little more legroom” she glanced back as if I had just tried to stab her in the throat with a Mont Blanc pen. I ended up in seat 55a: a space in economy designed not around the dimensions of a baby baboon but those of a one-legged baby baboon. Under the seat in front of me there lay a black metal box, which meant having to keep one leg bent at the knee for the duration of the flight. Most of my weekend in the Big Apple was spent recovering from what felt like incipient deep-vein thrombosis.
Facing the dreaded red-eye back to London on Sunday night, my desire to be upgraded intensified. Frankly, I would have taken a colleague’s advice and slipped a $100 bill in my passport at check-in, had visions of being sent to Guantánamo Bay not crowded my brain. In the event, I once again tried relying on charm, beginning by remarking to the check-in woman that I thought she had a lovely surname.
“Thank you,” she said. “Where’s it from?” I continued. “It’s Spanish,” she said. “Spain is such a beautiful country,” I said. “Actually, I’m from Ecuador,” she said. “Oh,” I said. Perhaps sensing what was coming next, she added: “I’m afraid we have a very full cabin in economy tonight, sir.” I suggested a brilliant solution to the problem: she could stick me in business. “Ha!” she laughed, handing over a boarding card showing I was in fact heading for 33c, an aisle seat in economy, just behind a couple with a wailing baby. With my knees around my ears, I think I just about managed to get five minutes’ sleep over the Bristol Channel.
Back in the office, feeling so jet-lagged that it was a struggle to pick up the phone, I called the Virgin Atlantic press office and asked if they could shed some light on their policy on upgrading passengers from economy. Someone called Polly said: “The only guaranteed way of ending up in business is by buying a business class ticket.” The answer did not surprise me. According to one analyst, business class customers are 10 times more lucrative to airlines than economy ones, so the last thing they want to do is annoy them by advertising the fact they sometimes give away the seats for free.
But, judging from the many anecdotes I have sieved through, upgrades do happen and, while there is no routinely effective way of blagging one, there are certain things that make them more and less likely. For instance, if you are drunk, or if you arrive wearing a fake beard, pretending to be related to Richard Branson (according to a BBC report, someone actually tried this), you are probably not going to succeed.
Equally, you increase your chances by having a gold loyalty card (of your own), by having suffered poor service on an earlier flight (and complaining very loudly about it), by buying a fully flexible ticket, and, judging from one rare instance of a man being upgraded from economy to first class ... by dying mid-flight. Indeed, for many of us, shuffling off this mortal coil in economy may be the only way we ever experience horizontal luxury on an aircraft 混不进的商务舱
出于一大堆理由，我不喜欢乘国际航班，其中最重要的一条是，座位太狭促，连小狒狒都会觉得小。在这样的地方坐上8个小时，真是极大的痛苦。但上周末，我得到纽约去见一位密友，所以我想了个聪明点子，坐商务舱飞到纽约，使这种痛苦减到最小。
这是个好计划，但唯一的问题是，在订票过程中我得知，只有将我的公寓转租出去，并在今年剩余的时间里，搬到伦敦动物园的小狒狒圈养围栏里去住，这样我或许才可能买得起一张商务舱的机票，这是唯一的办法。所以，我打定主意，买一张经济舱而不是商务舱的机票，并尝试下新事物：骗个舱位升级。
杂志文章、同事和bumptracker.com等专家网站不乏这方面的建议。事实上，对于经常旅行、尤其是经常因公出差的人来说，从“动物舱”或“禽类舱”设法升级到商务舱似乎是件伤脑筋的事情。他们中有许多人因为老板近年来的预算意识而受罪。其中有些人如此沉迷于试图升级的过程，以至于在坐EasyJet等低成本航空公司的飞机时也要尝试一番。
那些来源提供给我的一些小窍门有：早些检票、晚些检票、单独出行、带可爱的孩子一起出行、带着结婚礼服、在行李上贴商务舱标签、飞快出示频繁飞机出行人士金卡、与男或女机组人员调情、装怀孕、故意破坏经济舱座位然后要求换地方、声称亲人身故、大喊大叫、反复抱怨、坐轮椅、带一支万宝龙(Mont Blanc)钢笔、戴顶好帽子，还有就是粗看上去像有钱的样子且“配得上升级”。
显然，这些小窍门中，有些比其它的更实用，但我到了希思罗机场(Heathrow)维珍航空(Virgin Atlantic)的检票区时，决定尽量多试几种，重点放在与女机组人员调情和看起来有钱上面。我让几张(借来的)金卡从我的皮夹子里掉出来，匆忙扔出一份《金融时报如何消费》(Financial Times How To Spend It)杂志(还有比这更好的财富标志吗？)，并且露出我认为最具有杀伤力的笑容，然而，我偶然发现一个问题：柜台后的那个女人不感兴趣。事实上，她看上去有些不耐烦。当我问她今天是不是过得很愉快时，她只是嘟哝了几声。当我谈到有“更大点的地方可以伸腿”就非常好的时候，她回头瞥了一眼，就好像我刚用万宝龙钢笔扎了她的喉咙似的。最后，我坐到了经济舱55a。这个座位不是按小狒狒大小的尺寸设计的，而是给那些独腿小狒狒设计的。我前面那个座位的下面，横着个黑色金属盒子，那意味着我在飞行期间一条腿得曲着膝盖。到了纽约，我感到我的腿有深静脉血栓的初步症状，那个周末的大多数时候都花在了恢复上。
由于担心周日晚红着双眼回伦敦，返回时我想升级的渴望更强了。坦率地说，要不是满脑子都是被送去关塔那摩湾(Guantánamo Bay)的情形，我原本已采纳了一位同事的建议，检票时在护照里塞上一张100美元的钞票。最终，我再次试图依靠我的魅力，我开始对检票的女士说，我认为她的姓很好听。
“谢谢你，”她说。“姓是哪个国家的？”我继续说道。“是西班牙语，”她说。“西班牙真是个迷人的国家啊，”我说道。“其实我是从厄瓜多尔来的，”她说道。“哦，”我说。她可能感觉到了接下来会发生的情况，于是接着说道：“先生，恐怕今晚的经济舱会非常满。”我提出了解决这一问题的绝佳方案：她可以把我放到商务舱。“哈！”她笑了起来，然后把登机牌递给了我，登机牌上显示我其实要坐33c，也就是经济舱的一个靠道座位，刚好在一对带着哭闹婴儿的夫妻后面。蜷曲着坐在这个位子上，我想我只能在飞过布里斯托尔海峡时勉强睡上5分钟了。
回到办公室后，时差反应非常严重，连拿起听筒都很费力。我给维珍航空的媒体联络处打了个电话，问他们能否告诉我一些有关经济舱乘客舱位升级的政策。一个叫波利(Polly)的人说道：“唯一保证能乘坐商务舱的方式就是买商务舱机票。”这个回答没有让我感到惊讶。据一名分析师表示，对航空公司而言，商务舱乘客比经济舱乘客的利润高上10倍，所以它们最不想做的事情，就是宣传它们有时会免费升舱的事实。
不过，从我打探到的诸多轶事判断，升舱确实会发生，虽然骗取商务舱没有总能奏效的方式，但还是有某些事会让升舱可能增多或减少。比如，如果你喝醉了，或者你戴着假胡子到机场，假装是李察•布兰信(Richard Branson)的亲戚(据BBC报道，有人确实试过这么做)，你就不大可能得逞。
同样，如果你有(自己的)顾客忠诚金卡，如果你在之前的飞行中获得的服务很差(而且对此很大声地抱怨)，如果你买了完全可变通的机票，而且从某人从经济舱升至头等舱发生的罕见事例来判断……如果你在飞行中快死了的话，那么你的升舱机会就增加了。确实，对我们中的许多人来说，要想在飞机上体验水平躺下的奢侈，在经济舱里“告别尘世烦恼”可能是唯一的途径。
