I haven’t said anything to them yet. I thought I would wait to make sure I could get the tickets for the gig first.
I’m feeling a little daunted by the whole tour thing to be honest, I mean, it’s a huge deal, and the closer I get to the airport the tighter the knots in my stomach become.
The only person I’ll know on the tour is Jake, and of course he’ll be busy a lot. So when I’m not following him around doing my job, I’m going to be at a loose end, and it could get a little lonely for me. I intend to do plenty of sightseeing in those amazing cities I’ll be going to – first stop Stockholm.
I’ve never been and I’m stoked to see the place for the first time. And I’ve already got myself guide books for all the places I’m going too and they are downloaded and ready on my Kindle.
Geeky, yes. Practical, very.
The taxi pulls up at Heathrow and the driver kindly lugs my huge suitcase out of the boot for me.
Slinging my carry-on over my shoulder, I wheel my suitcase into the busy airport.
I’m a little nervous about flying alone. I’ve never done it before, but thankfully it’s a short flight, and I’ve got my Kindle and my iPod to keep me company.
I reach the check-in desk, parking up my case I take my passport and travel details out of my bag.
Stuart had booked the plane ticket for me and as it was an online booking, he emailed me paperwork to bring with me. He also said one of Jake’s drivers will be there to pick me up. I hope it’s Dave, a familiar face would be good when landing in a strange city. I get the impression that Jake’s drivers are also his security guys, makes sense if you ask me and I’m yet to meet the others. As Dave is the head of Jake’s security there’s bound to be others. I just get the impression Jake always has Dave with him, he seems to trust him implicitly.
I hand my passport and papers over to the woman behind the desk.
“Can you put your case on the scales please?”
I lift it on praying to God I’m not over my allowance. I don’t pack light; I get it from my mum.
Phew, I just skim in my allowance.
“Okay so you’re in First Class,” she’s saying, “so that gives you access to the First Class lounge–”
“Sorry, what?”
She looks at me like I’m slightly slow.
“You’re travelling First Class so that entitles you to use the First Class lounge. Just show them your boarding pass and passport at the reception, and that will grant you access.”
Jake.
I can’t believe he’s done this. Actually, yes I can.
“Okay. Thank you,” I say feeling a little breathless, taking back my passport and boarding card from her.
Stuart had sent me the travel details but I didn’t see anywhere on there that I would I was travelling First Class when I read over them.
I’ve never had First Class anything in my life. I’m not really a First Class girl. I’m more likely to be found in the standard airport bar getting pissed before the flight, then staggering around duty-free buying more booze for the holiday.
And I just don’t want Jake spending his money on me like this, even though it’s totally generous and I don’t mean to sound ungrateful … it’s just … well I bet he doesn’t have all his staff travelling First Class. I don’t want to be a special case. I don’t want him making allowances because of our history. And as it stands now, I’m part of his staff and should be treated as so.
I’ll have to make sure he doesn’t do it again. But I’ll make sure to say it in a very nice way.
I make my way up to the First Class lounge and get myself a drink. Alcoholic of course, white wine; I know it’s early but I’m on vacation, kind of, and well I’ve just had a bit of a shock with this whole First Class thing, and the wine is just to insanely delicious to turn down.
And the lounge is amazing, sumptuous; it’s better than my whole flat.
Seeing as though I’m here, I may as well make myself at home, so I get myself well acquainted with the lounge and pick a window seat, one of the most comfortable seats I have ever rested my derrière in, and I can sit and watch the planes taking off from here.
I retrieve my Kindle from my bag, to read a book while I wait for my flight.
I try to read, but I just can’t focus, as my mind keeps flickering back to Jake and the whole First Class thing.
Despite my feelings about it, I really should thank him. I get my phone out of my bag and type out a text:
So I’m sitting in the first class lounge, in the most comfortable seat my ass has ever graced, sipping on the best glass of wine I’ve ever tasted, courtesy of this amazingly generous guy who paid for my ticket. You don’t happen to know who he is do you? x
I get a text back a minute later:
Nope not a clue. ps. I wish I was the chair ;) x
I reply:
Thank you. Not necessary ... but so totally awesome! … and behave! :) x
I get a text immediately back:
This is me behaving ;) And well, I couldn’t have my best friend flying coach, could I :) I’m already in Stockholm so I’ll see u in a few hours. x