What It’s Really Like to Fly on the World’s Biggest Plane

I am—and always have been—a nervous flier. Though I trust the science behind it, the thought of shooting through the air in a massive metal tube seems downright impossible. Anytime I board an aircraft, I am seized with the all-encompassing fear that my fellow passengers and I will come tumbling down to earth (like a giant, airborne metal tube should, logically). As someone who generally avoids prescription pills, I’m not privy to the on-demand nerve stunting that so many anxious air travelers resort to. Though if I had a dollar for every time someone responded to my qualms with “Just take a —— ,” I could likely afford a first-class ticket to Europe.

That said, I love to travel. So, when the opportunity to fly with Etihad Airways aboard the largest passenger aircraft in use, the Airbus A380, was presented to me, I was torn: Would the sheer size and weight of the aircraft throw my nervous tendencies into outright panic, or would the seamless experience of traveling with one of the world’s highest-rated carriers outweigh my fears? Bags packed, passport in hand, I endeavor to find out.

JFK Check-In, 11:45 a.m. EST: After I check my bag and acquire my requested window seat, I turn toward the security line, only to be caught up with by a smartly uniformed gate agent, who informs me that she will be accompanying me to the lounge and asks if she may carry my bags. This, I learn, is an additional service offered to first- and business-class passengers on Etihad, at a rate of $89 per person. My designated agent slaloms deftly through the security line, pausing only briefly to show my boarding pass and passport before hurrying me past the throngs of lesser travelers stuck waiting the estimated 20 minutes for security straight to the front of the line, where she arranges my carry-on items in bins with all the seasoned expertise of George Clooney in Up in the Air. Within five minutes I am through the gate; I can already feel my spirits lifting.

Etihad Lounge, 12 p.m. EST: In surely the fastest time I’ve ever moved through an airport, I arrive at the Etihad lounge. The lounge at JFK is new—so new that a construction worker on a ladder outside the entrance holding an assortment of platinum letters has transformed, by the time I exit mere hours later, into a glimmering new sign. The inside is sleek and airy; white leather chairs face a vaulted wall of windows looking out onto the tarmac. Against one window is a long bar—a good way to stave off the preflight jitters.

Etihad Lounge, 12:30 p.m. EST: I decide to indulge in one of the lounge’s signature cocktails, which are deliciously over-the-top, in keeping with my experience thus far. I settle for the Los Angeles, which is served topped with a fluff of candy floss.

Etihad Residence Lounge, 1 p.m. EST: The A380 is the only aircraft sizable enough to accommodate one of Etihad’s famed Residences, the three-room, in-air suite comprising a first-class cabin, bedroom, and private bath complete with a shower. Since luxury in the skies must manifest on solid ground, too, Etihad also maintains private lounge-in-lounges at its hub airports for those flying in the Residence, where a Baccarat chandelier gleams above a cluster of white leather furniture. To one side of the room is a two-top table, impeccably set with Vera Wang crystal and Bernardaud’s Ecume dinnerware plated in 24K gold. An adjacent space holds a bath and prayer room.

Etihad Residence Lounge, 1:30 p.m. EST: Once I’m settled in the lounge (read: once I’ve contained my gaping somewhat), a gate agent materializes and asks if I’d prefer to be the first or the last passenger to board. I settle for last, leaving ample time to savor the dates and Arabic coffee served in the lounge before departure.

Etihad Residence Lounge, 2 p.m. EST: On a normal flight, this would be the time when I begin chewing gum furiously, flipping through pages of trashy magazines desperately trying to distract myself from my imminent departure. Here, though, I am above that; I have a second coffee and await my escort to the gate, not missing the ill-formed boarding lines and agents shouting “Zone one only!” With my escort again wheeling my suitcase briskly through the airport (I feel a faint shudder at having to even enter into this wasteland of artificial lighting and bad souvenir shops; how quickly we forget our roots) as I trot by her side, I momentarily consider donning my sunglasses so fellow travelers will think I’m a celebrity.

Boarding Gate, 2:30 p.m. EST: As I cross the jetway and get the first glimpse of the plane through its window, though, my confidence begins to falter. The sight of this behemoth craft, surely far too large to ascend any height, let alone some 40,000 feet, briefly makes me regret not taking my friend up on her offer of an Ativan the night before. The beast grins at me, its dual rows of windows staring ominously, until my accompanying agent calls “Ms. Keller!” and rushes me past the window and onto the craft.

A380 Cabin, 2:45 p.m. EST: I’m soon settled in my seat, though “seat” is a misnomer; the business-class seats aboard the A380 are called “studios,” and while the term is meant merely metaphorically, I don’t totally doubt that its size may surpass some studio apartments in my native New York. The distance between the window and me is unlike on any other plane; my inner armrest has a storage compartment that can fit my carry-on inside, and could probably fit a small child, too. A generous shelf to my left can accommodate my laptop, reading materials, and iPhone without getting in the way of my food, which will be set on a separate folding table. The entire layout has been ingeniously optimized for maximum space; a generously sized alcove, for example, which serves as both storage compartment and footrest, is tucked under the table of the seat adjacent to me. Everything fits together like a complex, three-dimensional puzzle.

A380 Cabin, 3:30 p.m. EST: We’ve been cleared for liftoff. Though I expect the takeoff to be difficult, the aircraft’s sheer size has the effect of oddly distorting motion; that coupled with my surroundings makes it feel less like I’m on a moving vehicle and more in some oddly lit, small-windowed hotel.

A380 Residence Cabin, 5 p.m. EST: Like many hotels, the plane has a “penthouse” of sorts: the famous Residence, a suite of three rooms with a designated butler, who is trained at the Savoy Hotel in London. Travelers in the Residence have the option to request specific amenities; customize their menu, which they enjoy off of bespoke Bernardaud and Nikko china; nap either in the eiderdown duvet and lie-flat seat also available to first class “Apartment” travelers or in a full-size bed outfitted with Pratesi linens; and, after a shower in their private en suite bath, apply makeup at a lighted vanity.

A380 Common Area, 7 p.m. EST: When I decide to do work on the plane, there is space for that, too (far be it from me to conduct business in the immodest setting of my lie-flat airplane seat): a conference area with a central table and a screen for projecting presentations.

A380 Cabin, 9 p.m. EST: When I tire of that, I return to my seat to find a steward waiting. “Would you like me to make your bed?” he asks. When I appear uncertain, he assures me that I will enjoy it. Etihad stewards on the A380 are trained to convert a seat into a passable bed in 19 seconds. First, the seat is laid flat; then, its pressure is adjusted to accommodate a lying rather than seated position; a Coco-mat mattress pad is attached to the seat, followed by a sheet, a quilted duvet, and a pillow. All told, it’s a more comfortable setup than the beds in some hotels I’ve visited.

A380 Cabin, 10:30 p.m. EST: Though I’m normally far too worked up to catch much sleep on any flight, the issue here, I realize (especially after my seat-to-bed conversion), is not so much an inability to fall asleep, but an unwillingness to lose any time to sleep that could be spent luxuriating in the experience.

A380 Cabin, 11 p.m. EST: I accept my fate and spend the remaining ten hours making thorough use of the entertainment system and sampling a majority of the menu items (highlight: the pumpkin squash soup with crème fraîche; low point: remembering, mid-spoonful of perfectly whorled soup, that I may one day have to fly economy on a non-A380 again).

A380 Cabin, 2:30 a.m. EST: I claim the embarrassing achievement of completing the full season of PBS’s Victoria. The young queen, I'm convinced, would have enjoyed travel aboard the A380.

A380 Cabin, 1 p.m. GST: We land, surprisingly smoothly. Normally, I’m itching to deplane as soon as the wheels touch down (if you’re rummaging in the overhead compartments, watch out), but when we arrive in Abu Dhabi, I’m overcome by the temptation to hide beneath my enormous seat and remain on board for the journey back to New York. The A380 has officially done it: It’s made me enjoy flying.

Etihad Lounge Abu Dhabi, 2 p.m. GST: I resist the temptation to stow away and allow myself to be escorted off the plane and delivered to the recently renovated Arrivals lounge in the Abu Dhabi airport, where I’m promptly asked if I’d like to have a shower or massage. I don’t ever see the baggage carousel; instead, I hand my luggage claim tag to an agent and my bags are whisked to my taxi for me.

Abu Dhabi Airport Taxi Line, 2:30 p.m. GST: I half expect my gate agent to lift me into my taxi and buckle the seatbelt, so coddled have I felt since checking my bags at JFK the day before. As I exit the airport, blinded by the bright light of the desert sun, I have trouble remembering whether I was ever even really in an airport at all. And that, I’d say, is truly the ultimate travel experience.