The Not-So-Laborious Travels of a First Class Passenger

It's a few days after the Labor Day weekend, one of the most traveled holidays, and I'm finding myself stuck on an ethical issue rather than memories of mojitos on the beach.

My best friend, who works for Delta, and I were numbers 16 and 17 on the Labor Day weekend standby list to Miami. As we waited, besides tapping my foot, I passed the eternity-of-minutes by people-watching. Time after time, a business man or well-dressed couple would walk through what was titled the "Sky Priority" line. And every time, despite the length of the economy line, those passengers had priority. "Wait a second...that isn't fair!" I thought. Why can they skip the entire line, which now stretched down to the airport Starbucks? Because they can afford it?

The flight was leaving at 7:35 and it was already 7:25 a.m. At this point, I just wanted to get to Miami, but I'd nearly given up hope. (Though, I would have gladly offered to sit in the middle of the aisle or squeeze into the porta-potty-smelling airplane bathroom, but I'm pretty sure that's against regulations.) Then, I heard it. My name followed by my friend's name. Flustered, we stood together as the attendant hand-wrote our seat assignments on the ticket stub. Seats 4B and 4C...That's right. First class.

It was my first time visiting that forbidden, curtained-off zone except for the occasional walk-by. And it was incredible. The second I sat down, the flight attendant rushed up to ask what I would like to drink, which I'll add wasn't limited to non-alcoholic drinks (but I only know that because the guy behind me had three empty bottles of beer and a very satisfied look on his face by the time we landed). Once we were in the air, the attendant swept across the floor with a basket of free Sun Chips, Biscottis and king-size Snickers telling everyone, "Please take as many as you want. We have too many and will never be able to get rid of everything."

That's odd. In the economy section, where I normally sit, not only are alcoholic beverages pricey, but I only have the option between peanuts or pretzels. And every time I see someone ask for more, they get "the look." Why is that? I thought the days of societal class were over, but it appears they're hiding in plain sight.

While I'll admit I was quite in Heaven up at the front of the plane, something inside of me felt out of place. Do you think it's fair for customers to be treated completely differently simply because they pay more?