[mashshare]

I spend a lot of time on airplanes. If it’s got wings, I probably have a frequent flier number. I can’t even play with my boys and their Fisher Price airplane without instinctively reaching for my Sky Miles card.

The advantage to racking up miles is the occasional upgrade from coach to first class. I remember the very first time it happened. My initial seat was so far back in the plane, I had a different arrival time than everyone else.

Then just before boarding, I heard my name on the squawky overhead speakers. At the counter, a ticket agent asked for my boarding pass and handed me a replacement.

How exciting! I think I did the robot dance all the way down the jetway.

The first perk I noticed was the larger seat. I’ve sat in airplane seats so snug my hips nearly touched one another. But in first class, I could move my legs freely and extend them almost completely in front of me.

I was digging through the seatback pocket for hidden treasures when the flight attendant assigned to our small first-class cabin offered me a drink before we took off. “Really?” I squeaked. “I mean, thank you.” I tried again in a manly baritone.

She brought me a chilled soda in a real glass, and I looked at my seatmate as if Ed McMahon had just handed me balloons and a giant check on my front porch.

I’m a chronic people-watcher, so I enjoyed observing my new friends in first class over the three-hour westbound flight. They made our flight attendant work harder than your favorite server at Chili’s.

She filled and refilled sodas, served liquor, brought miniature candy bars and checked arrival times and gate numbers. Every time she interacted with a passenger, she said, “Please let me know if you need anything else.”

Some fliers said thank you, but many didn’t. Some didn’t even bother making eye contact when she took a glass or checked on us. By the time we landed, it was clear I was a rookie among first-class veterans.

Since that first flight in the cabin-of-the-privileged, I’ve learned the many ins and outs of first-class culture.

On a short flight from Las Vegas to Arizona, I watched as a woman argued with the flight attendant about whether a large carry-on would fit in the overhead bin. The attendant tried to readjust the bag so the door would easily close. When she couldn’t, the passenger motioned her away and banged on the door with both fists until it finally latched. Then she rolled her eyes, muttered an obscenity and retook her seat.

Don’t you know, I’m in first class?

Once, while sitting on the tarmac during a short delay, I tuned into a dispute between a woman and a flight attendant over switching seats. The irate passenger couldn’t understand why the attendant wouldn’t facilitate the switch so she could sit by her grown daughter a few rows away. When he responded that his primary responsibility was to keep her and the other passengers safe, and that she was welcome to approach anyone on the plane about switching seats, the woman threw her hands up in anger and said all she wanted was for him to do his job.

Don’t you know, I’m in first class?

I’ve heard complaints about temperatures, bumpy rides and late departures. I’ve watched passengers operate as if rules about cellphone usage don’t apply to first-classers.

The ugly rules of first-class flying make me wonder: What entitles us to special treatment? Is it the price we pay for a ticket, the clothes we wear or the car we drive? Is it our attitude? Our education?

What would happen if we all acted like passengers grateful for every hello, every favor and every second someone gave us? What if we remembered that it doesn’t matter where we sit in life, God loves us the very same?

On the other hand, what would happen if we all acted not like flight attendants, but as life attendants? What if treated one another as if we’d bought the most expensive ticket and everyone we encountered had a special need that required us to respond willingly with a smile? Can you imagine ending every exchange with the phrase, “Please let me know if you need anything else”?

Flying might not be anymore enjoyable, but living sure would.

Don’t you know, we’re all in first class?