As a longtime veteran of the coach cabin and all the horrors therein - the battles for overhead space, the wheelie-bag traffic jams, the knee-numbing legroom - one can only imagine my thrill when I boarded a recent American Airlines flight from San Jose, Calif., to Dallas. There I was, after all, in the first row.

My seat was wide, the armrest was enormous and the guys behind me were talking about real estate and golf. This was the high life, I figured, a conviction that intensified when the flight attendant approached with a silver tray and addressed me as "Mr. McKinley." Then he handed me, well, a towel.

Maybe it was more of a wipe? It was the size of a cocktail napkin. Or perhaps it was a piece of the pilot's long-lost security blanket. Whatever it was, it was marginally warm, borderline damp and had the unmistakable texture of a bargain washcloth.

Ah, first class.

Once an enclave of elegance, these days - judging from an informal survey I undertook of several domestic carriers - the experience often is reminiscent of what one used to find in coach. Same kind of pillows. Same kind of blankets. Same kind of guy in sweats and a ball cap, letting his knees expand to the widest possible angle while downing a free drink.



Rather than be defined by the benefits it bestows, it is defined by the deprivations it doesn't. "You go first class," said Joe Brancatelli, the editor of, a website for business travelers, "because it's less horrible than coach."

Not that there's always that much difference. Consider a recent US Airways flight I took from Charlotte, N.C., to Newark - I bought a $75 upgrade - whose amenities were a bigger seat, a tiny pillow, a big bottle of water and a choice of nuts or cheese snacks, delivered in what an airline spokesman later called a "relatively heavy snack basket." On my American flight from San Jose, there wasn't even a pillow, though the flight attendant noted I could rest my head against the adjustable (ha!) flap in the headrest.

Although there's ample debate as to when the Golden Age of First Class occurred - the Stratocruiser 1950s? The Pan Am 1960s? The steak-and-silverware 1970s? - the growing consensus among airline observers is that decades of deregulation, harsh economic swings, increased competition and consolidation, and - most recently - upgrade-hungry frequent fliers, have left the domestic first-class compartment more of a letdown than a luxury.

"The style is gone, the attention to detail is gone, the amenities are gone," said Henry Harteveldt, a founder of the Atmosphere Research Group, a travel industry analysis firm. "The fact is that domestic first class today simply means little more than a wider seat and a better chance of getting your bag in the overhead bin."


"Furs would be folded with the lining outside," said Frank Victor, a board member with the National Airline History Museum, who fondly recalled days of lobster thermidor and chateaubriand. He added, "The curtains were closed between first and coach." They weren't those decorative, hospital-style curtains you see nowadays, either.


Most agree that deregulation in the late 1970s kicked off the major changes for first class - and first-class passengers - as government-decreed fares gave way to competitive pricing. Before regulation, government-fixed fares meant airlines had to compete in other ways for customers, namely through better service, not better prices.

Although deregulation has "hugely democratized" the skies, said Gary Leff, a founder of, a frequent flier community, it also has meant "that without high fares, the airlines don't spend on amenities."


Airlines already had developed loyalty programs, allowing frequent fliers to pay for upgrades with miles, thus letting regular Joes percolate up into first class. But what really opened the flood gates - and that first-class curtain - was a more recent decision by some carriers to offer upgrades to their most frequent fliers, gratis, rather than let those seats go empty.

And that, say some, has justified the airlines' rationale in making the first-class experience less than premium. "Once they are giving it away as a perk," Brancatelli said, "why would you go out of your way to make it glamorous?"

And while Harteveldt - like everyone else - loves his free upgrades, he said that the practice galls him from a business standpoint. "Let's say you go to Macy's and buy a generic $49 shirt," he said. "The clerk doesn't then take that back and hand you a shirt by a name-brand designer."


A recent search of first-class fares on, from Kennedy Airport to Los Angeles, found nonstop fares as high as $3,116 on United, $3,113 on American. And that was one way. By comparison, both coach tickets were $149.

Airlines won't say how many people are paying the full first-class fare - Brancatelli estimates it to be 2 percent, while others estimate up to 10 percent. Some first-class cabins, according to the airlines, are more stocked with customers paying full fare than others.



With tens of millions of upgradable frequent fliers, airlines have taken to adding seats with slightly more legroom and other perks in coach - call it Coach Plus - to accommodate loyal customers shut out of the front of the plane.

American, for one, is making an effort to increase the number of "economy class premium," with more of such seats on its new Boeing 777-300ERs due this year. American also has kept three separate cabins - coach, business and first - while others have gone strictly bicameral (coach and first) and is intensifying its efforts to get Wi-Fi on more planes, said Alice Liu, managing director of onboard products. It is, she said, part of making first class "a seamless transition from everyday life to the airline."

"It shouldn't be an interruption," she said.

Other airlines also strongly contest the assertion that first class isn't what it used to be, saying that they've poured ample resources into improving service with everything from new seats - from cloth to leather, for example, on United - to better menus and wines. There also are flashier entertainment devices, power outlets, new online services and, of course, the ever-important issues of more legroom and larger seats.


Not all first-class experiences are created equal. On some flights, first class doesn't even mean a meal. US Airways, for example, doesn't serve prepared food in first class for any flight less than 3-1/2 hours long.

On other airlines, the food does not always inspire, such as an omelet-and-home-fries breakfast I had on American - part of a $986, full-fare, one-connection, one-way flight from West Coast to East: Omelet and home fries appeared to have merged like something out of "The Fly." But the airline did better on a Dallas to Philadelphia afternoon flight. I was given a nice cold salmon salad, a bowl of warm nuts and, yes, a hot towel.


First class also has staffing on its side - often two flight attendants for a dozen or so people - and its own commode, of course. And those are just the perks on the plane. Fern Fernandez, managing director for marketing and customer loyalty for US Airways, said that for some customers, those perks pale in comparison with the biggest prize of all: less time waiting to get on.


"Domestically, it's that ability to have an expedited experience in the boarding process," he said. "And having a little extra space."

But while avoiding the epic security lines - reserved for those suspicious economy-class types - is certainly a perk, the first-class treatment apparently doesn't always get you past the velvet rope.

Holding a first-class ticket does not guarantee access to terminal clubs, something I discovered at Newark Liberty International Airport, where my $759.70 ticket - one way - wasn't enough to get me into the United lounge, despite the fact that I was wearing my best (and only) suit.

Airlines insist that first-class customers always have been - and always will be - special.

"First class remains a priority," said Chris Kelly Singley, a Delta spokeswoman. "Because the folks who are sitting in those seats are typically paying higher fares." If, of course, they are paying.

Sure enough, on a Delta flight from Philadelphia to Los Angeles in mid-January, the airline did well. The plane, a Boeing 737-800, came with seatback entertainment systems with free movies and television shows. The meal - grilled chicken, fresh salad, chocolate cake - was yummy, and the drinks were, well, ample.



Much depends on the type of plane you're on. Older planes can struggle to keep up with the times. Consider an American Airlines MD-80 I boarded only to discover that the jack below my first-class seat was a round DC outlet like one you might find in your car's cigarette lighter. This would have been great had I been driving, but left my PC bereft at 35,000 feet.

Still, the view from 35,000 feet is the same no matter where you're sitting, something I was reminded of on a US Airways flight to Newark: a sunrise over the Atlantic, an eyeliner-thin trace of pink over an unmade bed of clouds. Looking out, I felt that sensation of wonder, of flight and the excitement of travel to a different place. My first-class amenities weren't much: a bag of cranberry nut mix and some organic Cheddar cheese snacks. But the takeoff was flawless and the scenery divine. Settling back into my wide seat, I had a deep thought: I had become spoiled. For even if first class wasn't as fine as I'd hoped, it still wasn't coach.

Kenan D. Christiansen and Rachel Lee Harris contributed reporting.






Lounge access: Yes.







Sample coast-to-coast fare: $2,724.


Delta offers two tiers of first class: one, simply named "first class," is available on most domestic flights. The other, business elite, is available only on coast-to-coast trips and is more lavish.





Sample coast-to-coast fare: $1,776.







Sample coast-to-coast fare: $784.






Sample coast-to-coast fare: $784.






Sample coast-to-coast fare: $1,690.