As about which I wrote about a few days ago, I finally received my first real operational upgrade in about two and a half years of flying competively, and was able to experience a complimentary upgrade from biz class on my United Premium Service flight (United overuses the word premium to the extent that it’s lost all meaning) JFK – SFO flight, into first. It was a most welcome upgrade, considering the flight was at 6am, and I had not slept the night before, knowing I would have to awaken close to 3am to begin the long, early morning trek to JFK, and I was looking forward to falling asleep in seat that lays close to flat. I was also excited to try p.s. first simply based on the small differences in services between first and business class, even though I knew that p.s. first had been swirling the drain for the past few years.

And, the differences? Besides the seat, none, really, except they attempt to stuff you with more food. For breakfast, in business class, there is no true “starter” (that I remember, at least), and in first, they plonk down a cup of (canned) peaches and yogurt, and United’s dubious fruit plate. Afterwards, it’s the same eggs that always seem to be stiffened with a coating of laquer, the same mess-hall ham that I’m sure comes in 55-gallon drums with a radioactive marker on the side, and the sodium nitrate filled sausages. United also serves an arrival snack in first class, prior to landing, which, apparently, were some finger/tea sandwiches of some sort. I wouldn’t know. I slept right through it.

Where the experience, however, did win, was the Spacebed seat. Though not truly lie flat, it provided enough of a surface to stretch out comfortably, and pass the hell out. Of course, I had probabaly slept five hours in the last 48 hours at that point, and would’ve fallen asleep in a rock garden. I had heard of complaints from other passengers of sliding down the seat while sleeping, and while I didn’t really slide, per se, I did manage to crunch my to against the footrest in such a way that I woke up with that feeling that blood circulation had been lost to a lower extremity. Other than that, a glorious sleep.

Contrast, though, with the return flight. Unfortunately, none of the agents bought my “Can I upgrade this non-upgrade business class ticket” schtick (again, I didn’t expect them to, nor did I feel entitled to the upgrade), and believe me, I asked about eight or nine agents at SFO. I took my original biz class seat back to NYC, and experience five hours with a completely lackluster p.s. crew.

Unfortunately, the two people working business class were of the more, ah, typical United flight attendant variety – hurry through serving the food and beverages, and read a magazine the rest of the flight. One was an orange man with an obviously rub-on tan, who was nice enough, but barely made an effort. The other was a sour, old derrigible of a man, who waddled through the cabin at only meal time and disdainfully before landing, taking drink orders. I’m not a flyer that bitches about how often my drink was refilled in first or business class, but as a point of objectivity, and just for an enticing little tidbit, I had the same can of Coke on my tray table for the entirety of the flight (no joke), and the only check to see if I wanted water came from the flight attendant working economy, who proceeded to pour water into the very same glass from which I had previously drank my Coke. Nothing like a little high-fructose corn syrup boosted water. I guessI had been spoiled with my previous p.s. crews, who were of the type that when you were working on the last inch or your raspberry mojito (which – is emasculating enough to drink – and no, I didn’t even consider ordering the appletini – a drink for 16 year old girls on spring break in Cabo San Lucas), they’d appear with a new one, and, well, it’s impolite not to drink it.

Worse, however, than Hindenburg and Orange Man, is the overall quality of United’s business class food. It’s simply, utterly pathetic. Now, I’m a slight (extreme) food snob, but – goodness gracious. Shying away from the “brown sugar barbeque chicken” and “Deluxe Burger” options, I decided to opt for the agnolotti, the very same agnolotti that United includes on its biz class menu on international flights. The pasta arrived overcooked, in a tasteless sauce, spattered with waterlogged, canned vegetables, quite similar to economy class pasta. Not quite on par with prison fare, but akin to a college dining hall meal. Sad, United, sad.

As I usually say, and now croon more than ever, bring your own food. United has already proceeded to inedible.