Delta. To my knowledge not an airline of great renown, as evidenced by the fact that less than one in four seats on my incredibly cheap transatlantic flight are occupied. They have made an effort with the uniforms though; the entire crew dressed in black polo necks.
This swish retro look, that according to the Daily Mail 'never went out of fashion!' and according to the Guardian did go out of fashion but is now making a comeback (heaven help us), was somewhat offset by the largest and campest of our stewards who breezily reported 'sweating like a school boy in church' as he served me lunch. I liked his customer friendly version of the classic 'whore in church' phrase, substituting, as it does, the reference to female sexual and economic exploitation for an image of teenage guilt ridden masturbation. My appreciation clearly didn't go unnoticed as he quickly returned to surreptitiously top up my virgin mary with a free shot of vodka before smiling peculiarly and saying, "see! Treat me nice and I treat you nice". As he turned and presented his vast arse to my face another somewhat unpleasant image was thrust into my minds eye and my head started to spin. Just how nice could he treat me? And would it involve that great gluteal protuberance in any way?
I feel uncomfortably certain that New York has many more such thought provoking encounters in store for me.