Upper or Downer?
It’s Sunday; but it’s not a ‘normal’ Sunday. Today I have to fly to the States. It’s 4.45am and I’m spinning around in the bedroom wondering how I’d convinced myself that not packing the night before was a good idea, given that I had a car picking me up at 5.15am. Random selection of half-used and slightly leaky toiletry miniatures stuffed into opaque plastic bag? Check. Bundle of cables lying on the floor that should, but probably won’t, contain an iPhone charger? Check. Make up, including everything except the only lipstick I actually like which of course has done a runner overnight? Excellent. I’m ready.
The trip down to London is a good one; in my experience, the success of these sort of pick-ups is directly related to how quiet the drivers are during; this one had a good instinct for friendly and chatty when wanted and sufficiently silent when I needed to sort out someone’s US check in for them on my laptop. Terminal 3 sped into view; and I headed for the fast track.
‘Please seek assistance’ and a big red light. Hmmm… the barrier would not give. Even though I’d assumed I’d fly through with my phone boarding pass, I’d almost toppled over it. Checked the date and time (I did that once, I actually turned up on the wrong day) and everything appeared in order. Went to see the lady in charge of the barriers, she couldn’t find anything wrong. Uh oh… flight cancelled. Yes, British Airways had, only an hour before, decided to cancel the flight. Thanks guys.
What followed was like some sort of British Airways pre-terminal 5 launch baggage role play (remember bag-gate? As a non-terminal 5 attendee at the time it had seemed amusing; I’m sure it wasn’t). BA desk sent me to American and a huge queue snaking out across the terminal from customer services. I could spend the rest of this blog being some sort of jolted Tripadvisor reviewer. Let’s just say, normally I love BA, I collect the Avios, I’ve flown all over the world with them. I know the good and bad of their economy, their business class etc, but like a reliable old friend I always came back in the end. You just kind of do. However, this was not their day.
So. No flight. Airport chaos. I need travel help. Physician heal thy self. Of sorts. Laptop open, hmmm, it turns out everyone in the world wants to get from the UK to the eastern sea board today; and most of the little buggers have seats that surprisingly they’re not booking on the Sunday morning from a cold metallic bench inside Heathrow.
I need to be in Philadelphia for a 9am meeting… I can’t get to Philadelphia. I can’t get to New York. I can maybe get to Miami? Oh, no I can’t. I try a multitude of options, even heading into central US to connect back to Philly. Nope nothing. My system is at least super fast and sophisticated, so the only thing playing to my advantage are the tools of the trade. Ah ha! I can get to Boston. Boston isn’t Philadelphia and the flight isn’t until tonight, but it’s the right side of the Atlantic and I’m able to pair it with an airport hotel then an early Delta flight down the coast to Philly. No wonder my business clients like me. Hurray for Beth. What is more, bundled up this actually somehow works out two thirds of the cost of my BA flight.
I look up from my laptop and a nice Virgin lady approaches with a tub of ice cream. It’s now 8am and I commence what was to be the first of 3 little tubs of ice cream. It was that sort of a day.
The vast Heathrow Virgin area was apparently launched by a Spice Girl ten years ago but it is still impressive in how it’s operated; loads of desks and automatic check in machines. Virgin don’t do a first class and so Upper Class is kind of their hybrid; aimed at providing more that BA’s Club World, plus a few of BA’s first class niceties as well. Despite being 8 hours early, a friendly Virgin lady ushered me through to their lift and into the dedicated security area for Upper Class travellers, away from the hustle and bustle of standard security, and then straight into their Clubhouse (top tip: if you’re ever with BA flying business try the Cathay Pacific noodle bar, yum!).
Now the Virgin Clubhouse; I’d heard mythically of this but wow it’s a lounge and a half. They really have put the effort in, and frankly it makes your standard business class lounge wonder why it even turned up. Past the cloakroom you’ll find a vast expanse of high ceiling seating areas, and one of the longest bars I’ve ever seen. Sit behind coloured glass on a hanging chair looking out onto the runways? Why not. Fall asleep in front of a huge multimedia wall showing every sport under the sun? Done. Game of pool anyone? That’ll be the mezzanine pool table then. Shower? Loads of them, all with lovely fluffy towels and steam shower rooms. Haircut? Spa? Ok, I had 8 hours to kill but it took me ages to explore everything.
And the service was exquisite; an extensive list of cocktails, properly cooked food of all descriptions, afternoon tea… Amazing! It’s just a fabulous place and a travel gem that needs to be tried at least once. The time flew by, and this was now really quite a good Sunday. WhatsApp reassured me that my husband and my son had not killed each other.
Leaving the lounge and boarding the Virgin flight things are less cut and dry for Virgin. I personally didn’t like the ‘lying parallel’ seat configuration and lack of storage around your seat. The food was pretty good, and I loved, and stole, my mini salt and pepper planes (you’re allowed to), as well as my Virgin Upper Class pyjamas that I chose not to inflict on my fellow travellers (present for the husband). I’m sounding spoilt; it was a solid business class offering, but it didn’t knock it out of the park the way the Clubhouse did.
I made it to Boston, and then to Philly, without trouble. Overall a bad experience turned good, and I will consider Virgin in the future; Upper Class is a great treat, and competitive with BA across the Atlantic; a perfect add on for that trip of a lifetime Orlando visit or the honeymoon to remember to the Caribbean. If you fancy giving it a spin get in touch!