After a luxurious and restful night flight over the pond from Newark to Frankfurt in Lufthansa first-class, I was a bit sad to deplane. Conversely, I wanted a bath. I also wanted our plane to dock at a remote stand, because I had read online that first-class passengers at remote stands were entitled to a chauffeured Mercedes-Benz, BMW or Porsche from the plane to the first-class lounge. Right?!
Instead, we docked at a regular gate and were first off the plane. I had never been to Frankfurt Airport before and I was tripped up by the immediate Schengen passport controls to the left, which denied me access to the rest of Terminal 1 and the first-class lounge. I went right, thinking I would handle customs in Paris, my final destination. Wrong.
One hour, bad directions, regular passport control, inter-terminal trams and a lot of trampsing later, I had found Mecca. Right back in Concourse A after the passport controls I had seen immediately after first entering Terminal 1. My layover of 2 hours and change was cut short to 50 minutes or so. Still, I think I made a valiant attempt to lounge-sample.
The lounge itself is gigantic – I’m guessing it’s at least 10,000 square feet and almost completely deserted. There were 5-6 attendants and only 4 guests, which is always appreciated where service is concerned, but bad news for Tinder.
After showing one attendant my first-class boarding pass (which you must keep to gain access), I inquired about the restroom facilities. Another attendant led me down a hallway and gave me my own private bathroom suite.
The bathroom was gorgeous. Tiled and tidy with marble, too, it was resplendent with Etro bath amenities, a jacuzzi, a rainforest shower, robes, towels, toothbrush – name it and it was mine. I didn’t have too much time and turned the taps on high after dumping in all available epsom salt and bubble bath.
I have no hang-ups about taking a drink so early in the day (8:20 a.m), so I wandered to the bar and asked the barman for – what else – champagne. Realizing the time of day, I nixed the solo order and requested the addition of orange juice. On the way back to the tub room, I noticed a water bar – basically, a bookcase 5 feet high replete with over 50 brands of mineralwasser und sprudelwasser – and took a bottle. Of course, it’s important to stay hydrated when traveling.
The tub was full enough, by now, so I stopped the taps and threw the specially branded Lufthansa rubber ducky in – nothing like a squeaky toy to emphasize the ridiculousness of the exercise.
The water felt great and I regretted that my layover wasn’t longer. After ten minutes or so, the mimosa was drained and I felt like a shower to wake myself back up.
The shower was a shower – simple, but the rainforest head had a strong, but pleasant-feeling flow. It was brief as I only had another 15-20 minutes in the lounge before I had to go to my gate and I still wanted to see about the restaurant situation and snap more photos.
The lounge has a legitimate restaurant with table service and white linen. You can also go up to the buffet and order as you want, as well. I didn’t have time enough to have a proper breakfast, so I just threw some prosciutto, fruit and vegetables on a plate, along with a glass of that delicious Lufthansa orange juice. (You might think I’m being stupid about OJ, here, but last Thanksgiving in Turkey I had some fresh-squeezed stuff that made Odwalla taste like trough runoff. Quality juice will always get a mention.)
Unfortunately, at that point my plane boarded in 15 minutes, so I departed with a different brand of mineralwasser and went to my gate. It was another extraordinary first-class experience with Lufthansa.