Hong Kong & Vietnam -- Feb 2015: JFK + First Class Lounge (British Airways)

Arriving at JFK

Landing in NYC was a different experience than in the past. We always fly into LaGuardia, but this time we're going into JFK.

There is no other way to put it. That is one BIG-ASSED AIRPORT.

Before this, I thought that LAX was big, a perception based primarily on the fact that we have to ride the bus to the car rental return as well as occasionally having to change terminals when going out of country (like when we went to Sydney).

It’s got nothing on JFK.

We landed at Terminal 8, the domestic (US Airways/American) terminal. Then we had to change to Terminal 7, which is British Airways, Quantas and Cathay Pacific. No big deal, right? Just go next door?

Wrong-O, Mary Lou!

(No idea what that comes from, but it’s a phrase from my childhood).

You get off in Terminal 8 and, being men of a certain age, you (a) go to the restroom and (b) re-adjust your luggage so as to cause the minimum amount of stress on your body.

Then you walk. And Walk. And walk. And you ask the nice directional people, who assure you that you are going the right direction. Just go down the escalator, through the tunnel (which we later figured out probably goes under a runway or taxiway), then back UP the escalator and follow the signs “just a short way” to the Air Train.

Distances are relative. To put it in perspective for those of you out west, it wasn’t “just over yonder” or even “way over yonder,” but was “Waaaayyy over yonder.” Eventually, we got to the Sky Train and discovered that only one of the two tracks was running.

Again, the staff at the airport were very helpful. The nice man told us to simply get on the next train that came along and ride until they said “Terminal 7”.

Richard..this snow is ridiculous

What he didn’t tell us is that you get on, then you ride to “Federal Station”, which is in reality “Terminal 1”. Then you climb up again (skipping 3 and 6, for some reason) until you hit terminal 7.

Once you’re off the train, you start another trek. By this time, we are EXTREMELY glad that we don’t have big luggage, because one of Hannibal’s elephants is starting to sound like a good idea.

Another escalator up, down the way and around the corner and low and behold – we’re at the Cathay Pacific check in counter where, blissfully, there is no line.

The staff there (there were four, apparently anticipating the lunch rush – it was just a bit before noon) were extremely friendly and helpful, and Douglas, who was helping us, noted that we were in Seats 2C and 4K.

The seats in First Class are really more like cubicles. Hell, I’ve lived in dorm rooms that didn’t have that much space if the pictures are to be believed. But they are set up so that there are 3 rows of 3, one on each side and one down the middle. The way we were assigned, though, EB was at the front on the window (1A) and I was in the back in the middle. Essentially, you would have to walk around the block to talk to each other.

So the super nice Cathay Pacific agent tapped on his keyboard and made a call and suddenly we are in tandem, one in front of the other, both with windows. Apparently they can also make up a “table for two” (they don’t call it romantic in their promotional materials, but c’mon, it’s almost Valentine’s Day and what can be more romantic than a dinner for two (foregoing the candles, since there’s oxygen being used on board!). (EB is editing.....and when I read this I just threw up a little bit in the back of my throat).

After that, we stopped to see if our return tickets, which were supposed to be booked as First Class but got booked into Business instead, could be changed. Unfortunately, we can’t find that out until 48 hours before the return flight. Even if it can’t, though, the difference is a lot like saying, “I didn’t get a new BMW, I had to settle for a Lexus.”

It’s still miles better than coach, especially for big boys locked in a seat for 16 hours.