A few days after the latest terrorist drama in London, I arrived at the airport earlier than ever before only to find a huge line snaking its way through the terminal to Lufthansa. There were only two desks open at the counter for economy, the six people at the check-in for business and first class stood idle. All flights to North America were backlogged with even more extra security.
Oliver was already collecting brownie points for being understanding about a last minute ten-day business trip to the US that meant he alone would make most preparations for our trip to California, two days after I returned to Munich. Then he gained more for driving me to the airport.
He approached super hero status when he boldly drew his frequent flyer card and walked up to the open and empty business class line and talked the counter people into letting me check in as the wife of a silver card holder.
When the woman checking me in announced that my seat assignment was gone and that the one I would be given at the second check-in was likely to be a middle seat on a packed nine-hour flight, I thought my lucky streak was over. He proved me wrong by answering ‘yes’ to her next question,
“Would you like to purchase your wife an upgrade to business class with your miles?”
The look she gave me as she swiped the card and handed me my golden ticket to a restful and relaxing ride clearly said, ‘lucky girl’.
I know, I am.
Chicago is no fun without you. See you Sunday honey.