I've never flown first class, unless you consider sitting in the front row on Southwest Airlines first class. I fly economy class. But I prefer to use the term coach. Coach sounds more posh, like a Coach handbag. Some frequent flyers say there's no huge difference between business, coach or economy class. They have probably never sat so close to the lavatory that they felt they needed a tip basket.

On a flight to Amsterdam, I stood waiting in the first-class cabin while other passengers in front of me took their seats. Even the air in first class smells different. It has a moist, cotton toilette, lemon scent. It's one thing knowing that there are passengers on the plane seated in La-Z-Boys, but another thing to hear champagne pop and smell the aroma of Chicken Cordon Bleu.

Europeans heading back home occupied the majority of the plane, which was another reason why boarding the plane moved slowly. They carried numerous bags filled with souvenir purchases they made from The Great Mall of the USA. Before I left home, I told family and friends to expect me to bring them back hotel shampoo, soap, shower caps, shoehorns and, if they're lucky, small jars of jelly I confiscated from the breakfast buffet.

Now, I know how Leonardo DiCaprio felt when he boarded the Titanic. I sat down in the middle seat — hardly classified as economy. My husband sat in the aisle seat next to me.

It looked as though I was about to have a first class economy seat. I placed my neck pillow, book, pen, notebook, reading glasses and iPod on my lap. Confident, I lifted up the armrest next to me, shut the shade and settled back in my doublewide seat.

From a distance, I saw her coming. Her eyes squinted over all the other seat numbers until her eyes landed on the seat number above me. Keep walking, sister. "Excuse me," she said as she crawled over me with Himalayan-size backpack. My neck pillow, book, pen, notebook, reading glasses and iPod slid off my lap and onto the floor underneath the seat in front of me.

This is when taking yoga comes in handy. I took my shoes off and balanced myself on both hands. While stretching my legs underneath the seat in front of me, I spread my toes wide. Once I felt the object between my toes, I grasped it like the arcade claw game. Then I pulled my legs up to my chest and grabbed the object with my teeth. Women, this is a great get-fit-while-you-sit exercise.

When our departure was announced, I heard the first class curtain close. It's a distinct sound — pay no attention to the passengers behind the curtain sort of sound. The flight attendant announced over the loud speaker that the lavatories up front are "reserved" for first-class passengers only. Note to self: Put a reserve sign on bathroom door when I arrive home.

By now, I had a food headache, and my stomach was growling from not eating all day. Sitting in the middle aisle to the left of me, a lady handed her child a handful of M&M's — I love M&M's! The young girl sitting next to me placed a baggy of Ritz peanut butter crackers on the tray in front of her. Within minutes, she fell asleep. "What are you doing?" my husband asked.

"Nothing." I growled. At that same moment, the man sitting in front of me seat fell back into my lap. Hmm. I wonder if he knows his hair is thinning on top.

"What would you like to drink?" asked the flight attendant.

I wanted to say, "A glass of champagne, please."

"And to eat?"

"I'll have the lobster tail … Oh … And a warm, moist, cotton towelette to freshen up with, please."

But instead I said, "I'll have a cup of white wine, the rice medley and one of those foil-wrapped towelettes.

To find out more about Mimi Kopulos and read her past columns, visit the Creators Syndicate Web page at www.creators.com.

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