9 hours on a Boeing seven hundred eighty seven Dreamliner, in business class
Is it any lighter to sleep in business class? Is the food way better? Is it truly worth the extra money and miles to upgrade? Did I sit next to a model? Yes.
Last year for this publication, I boarded a Boeing seven hundred eighty seven Dreamliner, one of the most advanced commercial planes flying today, and sat in coach for fifteen hours. It wasn’t so bad.
This year, as my third year of travelling as a digital nomad began, I figured I’d splurge on upgrading to business class for a 9-hour flight from Houston, Texas to Santiago, Chile.
Is it all champagne and caviar? Is it truly worth the cost, either in money or airline points? I aimed to find out, making this brutal, brutal sacrifice so you, dear reader, can know what it’s like on the other side of that semi-transparent curtain.
Eastbound and w-a-y-y-y-y down
Boarding the plane I somehow fight off the temptation to yell “Suck it, plebes!” while liking Boarding Group 1. Nor do I snicker as they file past my already seated self, forcing them to ponder my legendary greatness. “Behold, I am internationally bestselling author Geoff Morrison, look upon my golden throne, ye mighty, and despair!!” at my 25,000 United miles and $500 upgrade fee. Also, it’s not golden. More of a gray plastic.
Look at that view! Always check SeatGuru.com before you book (I didn’t have a better option).
Most denizens of business class are boomers or business types, so I’m astonished to find my seatmate far closer to my age than theirs. She looks like an actress or model, and happens to be both. Turns out we’d been on the same flight from LA. We talk about her hometown (Santiago) and how both her hubby and I were from almost the same suburb of Boston. Best of all, we seem to share a similar attitude about talking on flights, and soon engross ourselves in different scenes of “Mr. Robot.”
Glenn, the service manager, introduces himself, a nice touch. In fact, all the staff are friendly and professional.
We’re given very likely my beloved business class perk:
Yep, a little cup of warm nuts. I don’t know why it’s so delightful. Drink orders are taken (Cranapple for me, I don’t drink booze on planes), and menus distributed. They have magnificently worded descriptions of vittles later available.
As the plane lifts off, I doze to the sounds of someone a few rows behind hacking up a lung. It’s almost certainly TB. Fine.
I awake as dinner is served. There’s a petite table cloth for the fold-out tray, actual plates and real, metal cutlery. The food’s plated well, not spectacular tasting but ideally pleasant. I’ve had worse at weddings. Dessert is a glass goblet of decent vanilla ice juice with a choice of toppings.
The TV, somewhere around fifteen inches, is fine, tho’ mounted in such a way I can’t lightly sit directly on-axis, so the blacks have a blue tint to them. Gotta love LCDs.
The controller is far beyond anything I’ve seen on a plane before. It reminds me of a PlayStation Vita portable game console: a puny touchscreen with buttons on either side. It can do some clever tricks, too, like demonstrating a different source than the TV on its own screen.
I recline the seat plane, or flat-ish anyway. The seat isn’t almost as “lay vapid” as the older version found in other United planes. I realize complaining about a lie-flat seat on an airplane is like complaining your ice fluid isn’t creamy enough. But while I’m drawing millions of eyerolls, I’ll add that the cushion is round and soft, the blanket just the right amount of warm. The cubby where you stick your feet is too petite for my size 10s, however, so everything is awful. “How dare they. I request. ” and I’m asleep.
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In a shockingly poor design decision, the rear part of the seat’s cocoon has LED backlight controls that are like triple quasars, searing your face.
These controls are hard to reach, redundant and annoying. Excellent job, design team.
I miss sunrise because I’m bad at my job, or sleep is more significant, or maybe both. Breakfast is a light omelet, fruit and yogurt. Once again, I leave behind to take a picture of the food before I begin in on it.
Before long we’re descending into Santiago. In one of the best perks of business class, I’m one of the very first off the plane, and at the head of the line for immigration. Hola, Chile!
Bottom line
So is business class worth it? As someone who logs ems of thousands of miles a year, I tend to use my airline miles to upgrade to business class fairly often, but only on long-haul international flights. Domestic flights? No way are they worth the upgrade cost. The business class seats are only marginally larger, and in my opinion, the flights aren’t long enough for coach to become oppressive.
For me, eight hours is the cutoff. Anything less, and coach is fine. Anything longer, and I consider it. If it’s a seven hundred eighty seven that’s a bit more pliable, since they’re more pleasant to fly on in general.
Business class brings back some of the glamour and special-ness of flying lost in the cattle-car mentality of cheap airfare and sardine seating. But what you’re truly paying for is not the service, nor the food. It’s a more convenient seat and the far greater chance you’ll be able to fly in peace, with no screaming babies or babbling neighbors. That’s worth the money to me.
And you know what? It’s also pretty joy.
In his alternate life as a travel writer, Geoff does tours of cool museums and locations around the world including nuclear submarines, medieval castles, Abbey Road Studios and more. You can go after his exploits on Twitter and Instagram, and on his travel blog BaldNomad. Got a tour-worthy spot you think he should check out? Let him know!