This article from NYTimes.com has been sent to you by psa188@xxxxxxxxx The Trenches of Business Air Travel April 1, 2003 By JOE SHARKEY THERE are at least a few places I would rather be at 6 a.m. than the Newark airport, but at least I wasn't alone. The departure lounge for my Continental flight to Chicago last Wednesday morning was full of business travelers, many already talking into cellphones - the postdawn party lines of the damned - or tapping on laptops. The electronic message board behind the check-in desk blinked a grimly disconsolate admonition, over and over and over: "WORK HARD . . . FLY RIGHT." Unlike most of my fellow travelers, I didn't actually have to be there. These days, with a war on, it's the grunts, the corporate infantry, who are taking most of the business trips. I had decided to join them on an arbitrarily chosen 30-hour itinerary: Newark to Chicago to Cleveland to Atlanta and back to Newark. Here's how it went: WEDNESDAY, 6:45 A.M. Departure for Chicago. At least, I figured, I'd be sitting in first class and able to get some breakfast. I fly so much on Continental that I have the midlevel gold-elite status in the airline's frequent-flier program. That's supposed to be virtually a guarantee of an upgrade to first. Except that's changed, evidently. Not only was I not sitting in first, I was consigned to the dread middle seat in a 737. "I see they're upgrading to the middle seat now," chuckled the guy next to me. Breakfast was something called a Power Bar that tasted like candy. 8:15 A.M., CHICAGO TIME. I headed for the Continental Presidents Club lounge at O'Hare International Airport. Airlines have been consolidating facilities, and at O'Hare, Continental's club and Northwest's WorldClubs share a single overcrowded lounge with barely room to sit and read the paper. The bagels had the consistency of a dry sponge. 10 A.M. I hoofed it over to Terminal 1, to the United Airlines Red Carpet Club, where the attendant was only too happy to take my $50 for a one-day pass (it allows you to bring in two guests, by the way). The United club is capacious, with lots of work cubicles and lounge chairs - one reminder of why United was once considered the class act in business travel. But the bagels there were awful, too, though these had the texture of Army blankets. 12:20 P.M. To Cleveland, unexpectedly on a tiny Embraer 145 regional jet. On this type of jet, which the airlines are using more often as they cut capacity, egalitarianism prevails, there being no first-class cabin at all to sulk over. Embraer 145's have overhead spaces about the size of a glove compartment in a 1968 Chevy, and seat accommodations on the order of amusement-park rides. At the jetway, an airline functionary seized my single carry-on bag, the size of a modest backpack, with my laptop inside. It must be checked into the cargo hold, I was informed. 3 P.M. At the Cleveland airport. I jogged a half mile for the connecting flight to Atlanta - on another little Embraer 145. Again, my carry-on was seized. No time for lunch at the airport, so I stared sadly at the food cart in the little galley across from my seat. A sign pasted on it said, "Snacks to be given out ONLY on return flight to hub." That meant no food on this flight. 6 P.M. At the Atlanta airport, I boarded the shuttle bus for the Embassy Suites Airport Hotel. The driver, Kay, was one of those people who seem actually delighted to see customers, in sharp contrast to some of the grouchy airline workers I'd encountered that day. 7 P.M. I like Embassy Suites. Big rooms, attentive service and free drinks and snacks at happy hour (also, a free full breakfast). After dinner, I had work to do, and the hotel offered wireless Internet service cheap: $9.95 for 24 hours. 8 P.M. In my room, I opened a notebook computer that I had recently bought, and found that the battery had been cracked, obviously en route. I phoned Continental's service line. After all, I complained, I'd expected to be able to carry my little carry-on and had no intention of letting the computer out of my possession. "We don't cover electronics," a very polite agent told me. However, she did speak to a supervisor, who ruled that I could file a claim for a maximum of $100. 9 P.M. With the computer on the power cord, I fiddled for an hour, but the hotel Internet wireless service didn't work. In the lobby, a clerk explained that the system was new, and was spotty in some parts of the hotel. He refunded my $9.95 THURSDAY, 8 A.M. The shower in my room didn't work, either. It behaved like a comedian doing a spit-take. But at least the staff was aghast about it. When I checked out, the desk clerk gave me a printed note that said, "We regret to inform you that we are experiencing very low or no water pressure due to a water main break." The note was signed, "Angela Drains, manager on duty." 12:30 P.M. Homeward bound on a 737, I'd wangled an aisle seat in the emergency exit row, but found to my amazement that the exit row didn't have extra legroom. However, there was a space where the window seat should be. Beside me, hunched in the middle seat, Matthew Denton, a circulation manager who covers 26 states for U.S. News & World Report and is on the road almost every week, reckoned that's where the extra legroom came in. "You just have to figure out a way to sit sideways," Mr. Denton said with a chuckle, sounding like one of those hard-core business travelers, the ones who aren't fazed by much. http://www.nytimes.com/2003/04/01/business/01ROAD.html?ex=1050211063&ei=1&en=043cdf28da482590 HOW TO ADVERTISE --------------------------------- For information on advertising in e-mail newsletters or other creative advertising opportunities with The New York Times on the Web, please contact onlinesales@xxxxxxxxxxx or visit our online media kit at http://www.nytimes.com/adinfo For general information about NYTimes.com, write to help@xxxxxxxxxxxx Copyright 2003 The New York Times Company