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What’s the Big Obsession With Doors?

February 3, 2026

Flying from Bangkok to Hong Kong the other day, I had the pleasure of sampling one of Cathay Pacific’s new “Aria” suites on the Boeing 777-300. This is Cathay’s swanky new business class product, currently available on a limited number of routes. A shame it was only a two-hour flight.

The food and wine were excellent — the service expedited for such a short ride. Find me a two-hour flight in the U.S. with a meal like the one below.

The “hard product,” to borrow industry parlance for the suite itself, was comfy and spacious. The layout is the common 1-2-1 herringbone, each seat with an oversized tray table and 24-inch video screen. (And I love the way Cathay’s headsets, while not bluetooth, are pre-plugged, with the attachment point hidden neatly away in a small amenities closet.)

What impressed me most, though, was the level of privacy. If you’re in the center section, as I was, a moveable panel closes you off from your neighbor, while on the aisle side your upper body sits deep within the sculpted shoulder wing.

It wasn’t until halfway through the flight that I realized there also was a sliding door. And I had to wonder, why bother? There was more than ample privacy as it was. With the seat in the bed position, there was barely two feet of open space, roughly at the position of your knees or mid-thigh. From Cathay’s point of view, is installing doors really worth the extra weight and mechanical complexity?

Looks like they’ve been bullied into it. For better or worse, doors are the industry standard these days. Indeed, airlines have gone sliding-door crazy. It’s become an arms race of sorts, and your first or biz class seat can’t be considered world class unless it comes with one, no matter how needless the amenity might be.

In some cases it makes sense. The geometry of a suite can be such that the lack of a door leaves you feeling exposed. The photo above, for example, shows the inside of an Emirates first class suite with its doors closed to the aisle (there are two that slide together). Without them, there’d be too much openness, too much clatter from outside.

But many are cozy enough to begin with, and the presence of a door feels gratuitous — even a little silly. They’re simply not needed.

If you insist, consider the way Air France does it, with a floor-to-ceiling curtain ensconcing each first class occupant. This is a simpler, less expensive, and much more elegant concept than the clunkiness of a door. (A curtain needs to be hung, however, which presents a problem for most cabin designs.)

How to define and quantify comfort? I reckon there are smarter ways for airlines to invest. We’re talking now about “soft product” enhancements, like better food or more gracious service. The worst thing a carrier can do is become hyper-focused on material aspects while the rest of its product deteriorates. I’d rather have a more attentive crew, a better meal presentation, or a less chaotic boarding experience, than some flimsy door.

Photos by the Author.

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February 3, 2026 · Filed under 1

Airplane Slippers That Don’t Suck

September 5, 2025

THERE’S A LOT going on in the airline world: air traffic control shortages, I.T. meltdowns, maybe a merger or two on the way? Allow me to ignore these stories and talk about something more exciting: airplane slippers.

You know how it goes. You’re on a long-haul trip in first or business, and they give you a pair of those slippers. They’re flimsy and flat on the bottom; you can feel the cardboard insert that forms the sole. After ten minutes one of them falls off. A few minutes later the other one goes. Later you find them on the floor, lodged somewhere in the footwell. Sometimes you’re on the way to the lav and the damn things slip off in mid-stride.

We don’t expect carriers to spend much on single-use amenities, but the sad design of the typical inflight slipper makes a cheap and wasteful product only more cheap and wasteful.

One airline has, at last, addressed this. Imagine my delight when I slipped on these new first class Emirates slippers and discovered they include an elastic band that attaches around the heel. A simple, elegant, and (I would guess) inexpensive fix…

How much fun.

Now you can jog your way to the bathroom without a slip; kick your legs around as you toss and turn in your suite; wiggle your toes and shake your ankles. These things stay on.

I swear, this is the smartest thing to happen to premium class air travel in years.

Best of all, you can bring them home and reuse them. They’re still cheap slippers, but they’re good enough to wear into the basement when I have to switch the clothes from the washer to the dryer, or out to the porch for my Amazon packages.

Sometimes it’s the little things.

And here are a couple of people who could use a pair…

Photos by the author.

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September 5, 2025 · Filed under 2

A Gourmet Diversion. Savory Snapshots From 30,000 Feet.

March 20, 2025

HERE ARE some pictures of airline food. Pardon such a vapid diversion, but most aviation news these days is depressing. Plus, I’m hungry.

Before the coronavirus madness began, we’d reached a point where the food in international premium class could rival that of a fancy restaurant. Carriers took pride in their onboard product: the food itself, the presentation, choreography — the whole indulgent kabuki of premium class, from the menus to each carrier’s signature cutlery. It could be pretentious, but always fun. The pandemic wiped that out, but things have since bounced back. An airplane ride no longer feels like a medical evacuation and flight attendants have stopped dressing like the firemen at Chernobyl.

Here, in no special order, are some examples. New and old, fancy and not so fancy.

These weren’t employee freebies. I’ve spent a lot of money on these seats. Maybe let me flex a little…

ALL PHOTOS BY THE AUTHOR

Philippine Airlines

A business class meal aboard a Philippine Airlines A330, Singapore to Manila. Adequate if underwhelming. This was a three-hour, intra-Asia service; presumably the airline’s long-haul routes have a more lavish spread. Not visible are my second and third helpings of garlic bread.

China Airlines

The upper photo shows a business class dinner en route from Taipei to Amsterdam. The cabin decor on this Airbus A350 was strikingly handsome, gold highlights and elegant wood tones. The food was less impressive, and they were super stingy with the wine. The lower pic showcase the carrier’s shorter-haul service on the A330.

South African Airways

Economy class dinner on the quick jump from Lusaka, Zambia, to Johannesburg. The second pic beholds one of the sadder things I’ve seen on a plane. Believe it or not, this was the business class vegetarian entree, served on the Johannesburg-Victoria Falls route. Click here for a detailed review of this flight.

Qatar Airways

Qatar’s business class food is arguably the best in the world. It’s served on-demand, meaning you order whatever you want, whenever you want it. There’s no scripted service, per se, with trays or carts coming down the aisle.

Air Asia

At the other end of the spectrum, here’s what low-cost carrier Air Asia has for you on the 60-minute run between Bangkok and Phuket. This was a buy-on-board option that cost about ten dollars.

Sky Airline

Sky Airline (there is no “s”) is a Chilean carrier, and this was the economy meal on a 737 between Santiago and Punta Arenas. Let’s just say that I loved the paper tray liner, and leave it there. The green plastic silverware was a curious, some would say unappetizing touch.

Sri Lankan Airlines

A beautiful little menu to whet your appetite on the way from Bangkok to Colombo. The meal itself was standard economy fare. Maybe the best thing you can say about economy class food is to call it “uneventful,” and this was no exception. The seat-pocket magazine is called Seredib — a sanskrit term from which the word “seredepity” comes from.

Drukair

One of Bhutan’s two airlines, Drukair flies smaller planes and offers a limited, if tasty business class menu. Here you see the lunch options on the daily run from Paro to Bangkok. This flight is further reviewed here.

Korean Air

This was first class from Incheon to Bangkok in one of Korean’s inter-Asia 747s with an older configuration that is no longer used. Notice the pull-out style entertainment screen and non-sleeper seat. Talk about slumming it! And if that noodle concoction looks a little too sloppy and greasy, it was.

Singapore Airlines

For whatever reason, I failed to keep any photos of the business class delectables I enjoyed one night on the long ride from Singapore to Amsterdam. Instead I have this less interesting picture from a shorter flight. This is what you get on an A330 between Singapore and Japan.

Kenya Airways

Bangkok to Hong Kong with Kenya Airways. A decent lunch and a can of Tusker. What’s not to like? And although you can’t see it here, this airline provides the world’s most luxurious fleece blankets. The crew even let me abscond with one, and today it resides on my couch. What they didn’t have, at least on this vintage 767 (since retired), is an entertainment system. I spent several perplexed minutes trying to locate my screen before realizing there wasn’t one.

Thai Airways

On the red-eye from Bangkok to Incheon. Another satisfying, if unspectacular, economy dinner.

Cathay Pacific

As good as it gets on a two-hour hop. Business class from Bangkok to Hong Kong. Find me a U.S. carrier that would offer something like this on such a short ride.

Air Malta

Air Malta is not longer in business, but like the aforementioned Drukair, they operated only shorter routes using narrow-body planes (pictured is Heathrow to Valetta), doing what they could with limited time and space. This involved some improvising, such as folding down the center seat to create a kind of instant business class. The result, all things considered, was surprisingly pleasant.

Emirates

Emirates first class is… well. You’re looking at flights to Mauritius, Johannesburg, and Bangkok. Similar to Qatar Airways, this is dine-on-demand, and you’re free to mix and match entrees, appetizers, and desserts to your heart’s content. We start with a welcome-aboard glass of Dom Perignon followed by the airline’s signature caviar; then we see a mezze appetizer spread (yes that’s an appetizer), a shockingly delicious chicken biryani, and a tuna dish. Mind you this is first class; Emirates business is less lavish.

KLM

Or, you can fly KLM economy class from Dubrovnik to Schiphol and savor this.

Battle of the Bars

The Airbus A380s at Emirates and Qatar both have onboard lounges. Qatar’s is situated in the center of the upper-deck. The Emirates version is also upstairs, but in the back, behind business class. Emirates also has an exclusive upper-deck bar only for first class customers, located at the forward bulkhead between the shower spas. The lounge is staffed by a bartender, while the forward bar is serve-yourself.

Tea Time

At the top, tea service on Qatar. On Emirates, the forward bar is taken down prior to arrival and a tea station is arranged in its place, backdropped by ornamental stones and waterfall. I mean, it’s hardly an airplane without rocks and a waterfall.

The Quiet Americans

Looking at those photos from the Gulf carriers, it’s easy to see that none of this is fair. Competing with heavily subsidized, government-owned airlines is pretty much impossible for American, European, and even most Asian carriers. Which isn’t to say their onboard products aren’t good. None of the U.S. carriers have returned quite to where they were pre-pandemic, but they’ve come a long way since the early 2000s, when broken seats, lousy food and terrible service were the standard.

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September 3, 2020 · Filed under 1

A Trip to Bhutan

All text and photos by Patrick Smith.

April 30, 2018

“Bhutan? Never heard of it.” This I heard over and over again during the weeks leading up to the trip. So, presuming you need an introduction, Bhutan is a small Himalayan kingdom nestled between Tibet and India. “It’s near Nepal,” is how I explained it most of the time. This is true, though it doesn’t actually border that country, a small sliver of India rising up to separate the two.

Our route to Bhutan, encompassing just over 29 hours of flying, went like this: Boston-San Francisco-Dubai-Bangkok-Paro. It was Emirates to Bangkok, and then the little-known Drukair onward to Bhutan. (If you’re traveling to this part of the world, Bangkok, Southeast Asia’s megahub, is the best jumping off point.)

Boston to Bangkok:

You’ll notice some backtracking in that itinerary on the front end, between Boston and San Francisco. This was done for no other reason than to maximize the flight time with Emirates. I had a bucket full of miles to cash in, and the Emirates flight from SFO to Dubai was the longest flight from the U.S. with upgrade seats available. If flying six hours in the wrong direction, with an overnight stay at the SFO Marriott, sounds insane, you’ve probably never flown first class on the Emirates A380: the onboard showers, the fully enclosed suites with your own private closet, the two onboard bars, the caviar and Dom Perignon. And so on.

I’m not claiming that Emirates competes on a level playing field with other carriers. We’ll save that controversy for later. In the meantime, if like me your favorite guilty pleasure in life is sampling the world’s luxury airline cabins, the experience is tough to beat.

An unusually quiet moment in the aft lounge.

Bangkok to Paro:

We airline geeks have lists; airlines that we hope to someday fly on. Drukair, the government-run carrier of Bhutan, was on my list for years, so it was especially exciting to finally be walking up the airstairs and onto a Drukair A319 at Bangkok’s Suvarnabhumi Airport. The carrier also goes by the name Royal Bhutan Airlines, but the local name has more character. The “Druk” (dragon) prefix is a popular trade name in Bhutan, and you’ll see it on banks, hotels, restaurants — and the national airline.

Drukair’s network, centered at Paro airport in the western part of Bhutan, extends to Bangkok, Singapore, Delhi and Mumbai. For years the company was operating the four-engine British Aerospace 146, but has since upgraded to the more modern Airbus A319. The Airbus has good high-altitude, short-runway performance, which is important when your hub airport sits at 7,300 feet with a stubby, 6,400-foot runway. It’s pretty unusual when an airport’s elevation exceeds the length of its longest runway!

I’d splurged for business class, which on Drukair is a four-abreast, four-row cabin. The seats are the old-fashioned, semi-recliner types; a bit blandly upholstered and perhaps not cleaned as often as they should be. I was appalled when I lifted the center armrest console and discovered a verifiable dune of peanut crumbs and dust. That aside, the experience was perfectly pleasant. The food was tasty and the cabin crew attentive. The menus, stitched with a Bhutanese cloth design, were simple but very pretty.

This was a one-stop flight, with a half-hour layover in Gauhati (Guwahati), India. This was the first time in my life that I boarded an international flight headed to a city that, prior to showing up at the airport, I had never heard of before. I’m very good at geography, which made it all the more mystifying. I stared up at the check-in monitor for a few seconds — Gauhati? — wondering vaguely where I was and where I might be going. I’d later discover that Gauhati has a population of almost a million people. I guess that’s India for you.

Drukair business class menu.

Drukair business class breakfast, fruit course.

Sometimes it’s the little things. Like this lavatory display.

Not your typical airport topography.

During the descent into Paro they played traditional Bhutanese music over the PA. This was an evocative touch, adding a certain exotic-ness to the arrival, especially once the mountains came into view. The initial descent had been through a heavy overcast, occluding that view of Everest I’d been dying to catch, but suddenly the rainclouds gave way to an almost fairy tale panorama of jutting emerald peaks. The lower we got, the more exhilarating it got. The landing gear clunked down at what felt like 15,000 feet, and suddenly we were doing hairpin turns in sheer mountain valleys, with 17,000-foot summits on three sides.

Yeah, I’d read about the arrival into Paro and watched a couple of videos, but that doesn’t prepare you for the visceral thrill of it. Especially that last, very low-altitude turn toward the numbers of runway 33. The expressway visual at LaGuardia has nothing on the landing at Paro. This was the closest I’ve ever come to being truly white-knuckled on a commercial airplane.

Himalayan High. Arrival into Paro.

The expressway visual this ain’t.

Drukair has four A319s in its fleet.

Only two scheduled carriers operate into Paro — Drukair’s privately owned competitor, the unexcitedly (and confusingly) named Bhutan Airlines is the other — and only a few dozen pilots are qualified to fly there. Frankly, this is how it should be. I’d be quite uncomfortable flying into Paro with any crew that wasn’t intimately familiar with the local terrain and its complex arrival and departure patterns.

(So, to be clear, there’s Drukair, a.k.a Royal Bhutan Airlines, and the privately held Bhutan Airlines. If the names aren’t confusing enough, they both fly A319s, in similar paint schemes, on overlapping routes.)

Only two airlines have scheduled service to Paro. Bhutan Airlines is Drukair’s competitor.

Part airport at dusk. Nearby peaks approach 17,000 feet, and Mt. Everest is only a short hop away.

In addition to the dirty seat consoles, two more gripes against Drukair: First, the carrier’s business class lounge in Paro is located outside security and immigration. I imagine this is due to space constraints; the airport is very small. Just the same, nobody wants to relax in a lounge, then have to get their passport stamped and stand in a security line.

And speaking of lines, during check-in, the queue for business class was extraordinarily slow, to the point where virtually all of the economy passengers were able to check in ahead of us. When I attempted to use the economy line, which by that point was empty, I was rudely sent back to the business line and forced to wait another fifteen minutes. Several agents on the economy side now sat behind their podiums with nothing to do, yet refused to check us in.

Paro’s arrival and departure halls are crowded and noisy (departure in particular), but they’re charming in that way of certain small airports. The architecture is in the style of a traditional Bhutanese home, and the decor riffs heavily on the artwork and ornate craftsmanship seen in the country’s many temples, monasteries and dzongs (fortresses).

The terminal at Paro, with mural of the beloved royal family.

Arrivals hall, Bhutan style.

In country:

“Life is suffering.” That’s the first of the Four Pillars of Buddhism, which is somewhat ironic when you discover that Bhutan, in addition to being perhaps the most intensely Buddhist country on earth (prayer flags cover the Bhutan landscape from end to end, like a sort of heavenly confetti), is also one of the most content. This is the country that invented the Gross National Happiness index, and which frequently tops those “world’s happiest countries” lists.

And for a poor nation in an isolated area, little Bhutan seems to have its act together in ways that few developing nations ever do. As Lonely Planet puts it: “Bhutan is one of the few places on earth where compassion is favored over capitalism. Issues of sustainable development, education and health care, and environmental and cultural preservation…are at the forefront of policy making.” The people of Bhutan are happy and comparatively well educated; healthcare is decent and universal. The roads are in good condition, mobile phone service is everywhere, and 98 percent of citizens, even in remote locations, have clean drinking water — an astonishing statistic, as anyone who has traveled in the developing world will acknowledge.

Granted, these things are comparatively easy for a country with fewer than a million people. An honest, uncorrupt government and a Buddhism-based sense of civic responsibility doesn’t hurt.

The Bhutanese government is also acutely concerned about the effects of climate change. The swelling and potential bursting of glacial lakes, for one, threatens to destroy some of the country’s most historic sites. Doing its part, Bhutan currently the only carbon-negative country in the world. It has banned the of chemical fertilizers and no longer imports food that was grown with them. Thus almost all of the country’s produce is organic.

In nearly a week in the country, I never saw a person smoking. Turns out the import or public use of tobacco products is against the law. As are western-style commercial billboards and advertising. There are, for now, no global consumer chains anywhere in Bhutan. No Starbucks, no KFC, no Ikea.

And bring your Tums, or your Prilosec. Pretty much all Bhutanese food, even breakfast, is centered on the chili pepper.

It was all the more surprising, meanwhile, once in the country, after so many friends and acquaintances of mine seemed to have no idea what or where Bhutan was, to encounter so many Americans. Only India, which shares the country’s southern and western borders, sends more tourists. Americans accents were everywhere: in the temples, dzongs, hotels and restaurants. In an age when many Americans seem aggressively incurious, this was encouraging.

Short of turning this into a full-on travelogue, here are a few of the better pictures from the trip. Sightseeing highlights were the beautiful Punakha Valley, and, it hardly needs saying, the thousand-foot climb to the breathtaking Taktshang Goemba — the famous Tiger’s Nest Monastery.