Hi Ho!

I paid for an upgrade with United Economy Plus guaranteeing “up to five extra inches of legroom.” That’s nearly $70 an inch, if indeed you get a whole five inches. It makes a difference if your legs extend beyond your knees. We got the bulkhead seats, just behind business class, and our magnanimous legroom must have been 24-inches extra, reducing the per inch cost to $14.50. A bargain.

But while the leg room is “sufficient for seating,” (in airline jargon), the seats are so narrow, there’s is no where, no way, no how to turn. On bulkhead seats, arm rests do not rise, backs do not recline more than a few inches and there is no way to enjoy those many extra legroom inches. Why are not all seats on long-haul flights like those in business class? Those La-Z-Boy recliners, where the leg supports rise elegantly with the touch of a lever, look mighty good.

La-Z-Boys were invented in the 1920’s in Monroe, Michigan by two cousins who designed a chair for “nature’s way of relaxing.” Before incorporating in 1929, the cousins, Edward and Edwin, considered such names as Sit-n-Snooze, Slack Back and Comfort Carrier before settling on La-Z-Boy and becoming one of the most-marketed names in American furnishings. An irresistably arcane fact from the corporate website: actor Jim Backus and his alias Mr. Magoo made more than 15,000 TV commercials for La-Z-Boy, earning a spot in the Guiness Book of World Records.

A black mesh curtain is all that separates me from the coveted wide-seated, leg-supported comfort of a recliner; something everyone’s grandma has in her living room. That, and double the miles or dollars. Why the class separation for such a basic human need as a comfortable seat when hurdling through space and time?

Since everyone on a plane pays a different amount (that’s a fact) — and many, like me, are trading rewards for dollars spent on other goods and services for my seat — might it not make sense to upgrade every seat to a recliner, figure out the real (OK, subsidized) cost of each seat per flight and charge that? It might cost somewhere between coach and business, and everyone would have a healthier, more enjoyable experience.

In lieu of re-fitting whole planes, the airlines could at least ingratiate themselves to a few by having a drawing on each flight to give away business and first-class seats to lucky coach customers. But then, the flyer who has paid a lot for his superior position would resent some schlump being given a seat beside his. It could be more offensive than affordable housing!

This is the kind of thing I think about as giant engines drone on, shades are drawn against an inevitable sunrise, TV-dinner has been served, $5 paid for a glass of mediocre wine, three bad movies have been endured, and two burly men across the aisle keep track of their bets as they play cards all night under miniature stadium lights which keep me awake. Somewhere over Greenland, I cracked the shade and there, filling the entire northern sky, is the Big Dipper. I am flying into the night and the dawn of meaning.

And I am sitting on a puny airline-issue pillow to protect my butt from the steel bar in my economy-plus seat. Only a black mesh curtain separates me from comfort and sleep.

 

(please see setails and advise under “Note” throughout article)

Optimism dissipated immediately upon entering. The entire apartment was tiny — as in not-able-to-turn-around-without-hitting-something tiny, and shabby (not even shabby chic!). A living room, 2 side-by-side bedrooms, a bathroom, a kitchen and a patio with table and chairs. While the photos had not been a lie, they had been taken at such close range (which is all that there is) that we naturally assumed larger spaces surrounded each item.

Note: When renting, assume nothing! Have all your questions answered to your satisfaction.

The living room furniture — a dingy white loveseat and two squat chairs upholstered in gold velvet — shared the common theme of broken springs. The bathroom featured a tub with hand-held shower head and black mold growing in the corners, a small sink and a toilet scrunched against the wall, requiring side-saddle use. We had been left one roll of toilet paper. There was no soap, shampoo or any amenity. Cheap thin and stiff towels were drapped over radiators, no doubt left by the previous vacationers who, like us, had committed to a cleaning fee which was obviously never spent.

Each bedroom fit a queen-size bed with about six inches to spare on each of 3 sides. The linens were of charity shop quality. One bed felt like a futon atop a loose box spring, dense but do-able; the other was raw springs onto which one sank against the plywood box beneath. Jan and Rich, being good sports and not knowing what to expect, tried to insist they could sleep on it.  

The kitchen was adequate but, again, no basics — not even tea and sugar, the British mainstay! The small patio, perhaps the most-redeeming aspect, was littered in dead leaves. I called the landlord who happened to be in London (he and his wife, who own and brilliantly market a number of London flats, live part time in the Bahamas) and began my litany of complaints. Their motto is “We offer more than a set of keys and a flat; we offer personal help and service to ensure your stay is a success.”

His response to my concerns: No one has ever complained about that bed before. (Wow, I guess only vampires slept on it). What if I provided toiletries and they weren’t to your liking? (What if I flew 5,000 miles and just wanted a shower with soap and shampoo?). Basic kitchen supplies like tea and sugar: Well you wouldn’t want to attract ants between visitors, would you? The leaves and dirt covering the patio must have just happened in the last heavy rains. And didn’t he advertise it as “self catering?”  (What was I thinking have such huge expectations?) He assured me that the couple who had last stayed there “just loved it!” Surely, there must be something wrong with me and my group of malcontents.

To his credit, he and his wife delivered that day a laughably-named “heavenly” mattress cover from another flat they own nearby, and covered the box spings so Jan and Richard had a dense, futon-like bed on which to attempt to sleep. [Sleep, we discovered later, was further challenged by the bedrooms facing Holland Road. The double-glazed windows and storm glass had to be closed to shut out the din, making it necessary to leave the door open for air, and no privacy…which was the whole point of getting a 2-bedroom flat.]

He also bought us one small bar of soap and a hotel-sized bottle of shampoo along with directions to the local supermarket “just a 5-minute walk.” It was more like 15 minutes and by this time we were exhausted, aggravated and I was angry at the shoddy surroundings for which I had pre-paid by wire 800-pounds ($1,600!) for 4 nights. If I had any means of recouping my money, I would have ven forfeited the deposit and moved us to a suitable hotel.

NOTE: DO NOT EVER pay for a vacation rental by wire. If they do not take credit cards, or payment in cash upon arrival, do not deal with them!

In all his literature, everything was just a few minute’s walk away. For example, Kensington High Street Tube, he claimed, was a few minutes; it was at least 20 at a brisk walk. The nearest tube station, Kensington Olympia, was touted as “a one minute walk” when, in fact, it was at least five. The owners verifiably skewed sense of time is as perverse as their skewed sense of quality and cleanliness. I believe they sincerely wanted our stay to be a success, but their values and ours were worlds apart and I cannot see how, even at London’s insane prices, this would be considered anything but a rip-off.

Did I mention that instructions at the flat cautioned that the scalding hot water quickly ran out, requiring a squat in the tub for a quick rinse?

Rather than let this miserable flat ruin our vacation, we decided to laugh. What the heck? We were in London and had planned too long and come too far to not enjoy ourselves. Fortunately, this accommodation was by far the worst of the entire trip. (Although we narrowly escaped another in Rouen, France, that would have beaten this).

(article continues in next entry)

For 45 minutes we searched the area for a Kensington Cabs driver who was supposed to meet us with a name sign. Unable to find him, we finally gave up and took a cab to the apartment I'd arranged through a ... [Continue reading this entry]

Specific travel tips and advise are found under "Notes" below. I understand why people book a tour or let a travel agent plan their itinerary: it's easier and saves time, brain damage and, often, money.  But I am not one of ... [Continue reading this entry]

I awake in a medieval abbey of massive gray-rock walls and delicate stone arches. Panic seeps into my thoughts as I realize nature's calling and I don't know where the  bathroom is. Where is it? I look around, slowly recognizing the shapes of furniture in ... [Continue reading this entry]

Like clockwork, or airline schedules that are actually kept we -- Jan and Richard flying from Boston, and David and I from Albuquerque, actually met up Thursday morning in front of Heathrow Airport's Virgin Atlantic Courtesy Counter as planned. A ... [Continue reading this entry]

The day has finally arrived to head to London for 4 days, then on to Paris for 5 and 3 days driving the countryside in the west of France. Although I am a compulsive travel planner and love to spend hours ... [Continue reading this entry]

From the first time I stuck out my thumb at age 14 headed north on the Merritt Parkway out of New York City and found my way seamlessly, after numerous rides, to a teacher's farmhouse in Northern Vermont, I held ... [Continue reading this entry]