I've never flown first class before. That is, up until two days ago. Chris managed to get a first class flight with the same amount of miles that it would have cost for an economy flight (due to some generosity on the part of my father-in-law). He wasn't even going to tell me about it, until he realized that I am just a little bit hair-brained and would probably fight with the ticket counter about my mistaken "first-class" ticket.
"I could just imagine you getting really....confused." Chris told me. "So I had to tell you."

I was super excited about flying first class until I realized that it wasn't going to just be me...it was going to be me AND ZOE flying first class.
Immediately I had visions of a screaming toddler running up and down the aisle and a poop smell wafting upwards from the first class cabin, scenting all the marvelous soft towels with a dumpy smell. Lovely. I imagined the people behind me whispering into their cellphones before we took off that they were stuck with a baby in first class. Not to mention the fact that all my fantasies of flying first class have involved me in a gorgeous pencil skirt clutching a laptop, an iphone and looking incredibly skinny and tall in heels.
Not even close.
I was so nervous the day of my trip. I wanted to dress up, but I had dumped a bunch of stuff in my suitcase and a a"first-class" outfit was nowhere to be found (the closest thing I could find was a dress that made me look like a giant watermelon and my stained Emu boots that didn't match). I finally relented and wore jeans.

There is a point in my pregnancy where I just feel sloppy all the time. Like, I-know-I-have-ketchup-on-my-shirt sloppy. Its' really an unfixable thing. No amount of stylish hair-cuts and nailpolish can get me past this feeling when I have reached it around 30 weeks (i.e around now) Although a good tan, I admit, does help me face the world a little bronzer and happier.

I am not tan. I am very white and very pregnancy-fat.
Zoe is a very, very active toddler.

It was fun, in a way. Zoe was able to stand up for a little bit because I was in the bulkhead. I armed myself with a caramel macchiato--which made everything seem luxurious, and I also guiltily put my feet up (which Chris, nor my parents) would never let me get away with. HEY, I was flying first class you guys.  I could do whatever I wanted!

Zoe was entertained by everything I had in my bag for 8 minutes and 36 seconds each item. I stretched the animal stickers I had bought (great idea from my friend Chelsea) as long as possible. There were stickers on the first class chair, stickers on the first class seat, stickers on the...you get the idea.

Zoe especially like the first class juice and crackers, which were bountiful in supply. Ahhhh, the lap of luxury. I think Zoe decided she was a first class kind of girl, because she kept asking for more Cran-Apple juice and pretzel crackers. The stewardess was very happy to oblige. She thought Zoe was a doll (because Zoe only cried when she wasn't oogling and googling and entertaining her!)

In the end, the one thing that surprised me about the world of flying first class was that the whole cabin was made up of ordinary people like me and Zoe. There is no special magic wonderland up there.

I guess I had imagined that life up there was full of glamorous people and business executives. To my right, there was a lovely little family with two kids. One of the kids was learning-disabled and made a grunting sound during take off and landing. (Zoe kept looking at him like what are you doing? I am the noisemaker on board).

I realized that, in the cheesiest, cheesiest way imaginable, we are all first class. 

There is no one who doesn't belong. I belong, Zoe belongs, the learning-disabled boy belongs.

It felt very, very good. I stuck out my bump a little more and walked with a little sass through the airport with Zoe swinging her little arms beside me.