Column

I never thought I would live to overhear the conversation. But here was my editor — a man perfectly in command of his senses — pleading with the organisers of an out-of-town conference he was to address to downgrade his seat from business class to economy.

“The conference is for a good cause” he was telling his hosts, “So I'd prefer to fly economy” But the woman on the other end of the line was having none of it.

“You see sir the other speakers have all asked for business class tickets so it won't look nice if you travel economy…”

“Look nice to who?” my editor asked rhetorically as he put down the phone. But of course ever since Indian Airlines introduced the concept of dividing the men from the boys by charging a premium for a few inches more of leg space and a bit of airborne perks in the eighties, every one who flies knows about the snob system that exists up in the air.

Known variously as a Big Boys Club, an ego massage and a great place to network, domestic business class travel has evolved to a fine art, if not a science.

It begins the moment you check in, with a bevy of PR beauties fluttering around you creating a small storm of brown nosing and confusion. Every little gesture to demonstrate just how special you are to the airline is exercised.

You are not handed over your boarding pass on your way to the security check, as of course it is too heavy an object for you to carry on your own, then you are escorted to the aircraft as you might lose your way en route, and you are made to jump the queue as of course you are too delicate to withstand the rigours of such an exercise.

I have seen grown men puff up and preen at this spurious display of flattery and fawning. I have seen people not only accept it as their due but actually demand it on occasion.

And then once on board, I have watched as those sitting in business class extend this experience of entitlement and privilege turning the cabin in to a Members Only Club of sorts where it seems perfectly reasonable to address and engage any one else in the Club. After all, they are the handful that have made it to the very top of the heap - haven't they?

And then there's what I call the 1A Seat Syndrome. Have you ever noticed how those sitting in the first row window seats act as if they've been crowned King or Queen for the duration of the flight?

There's that condescending sweeping look reserved for the other also-rans in the Cabin, that ever so subtle air of being one up on the rest.

Yes sir, I can go on about front deck flattery facetiousness and fawning. But in an era when every middle-level faceless manager has got his company to throw in business class travel on domestic flights I salute those who have the confidence in their own stature to give the whole in-flight snob system a miss.

Like Azim Premji who still travels economy on domestic flights, or Samir Jain who, even as he sanctions his executives to do so, shuns business class himself. Or Sanjna Kapoor, who I was on a flight with recently and who walked to the economy section with the dignity of the princess that she really is. Not forgetting of course my Ed who actually fought to get downgraded!

mail to: s_malavika@dnaindia.net