Can the red-eye be abolished forever? Can a night-flight be transformed from a punishing experiment in sleep deprivation into a travellers' treat, on a par with the old luxury night-trains of old?
British Airways certainly hopes so. That's why it's equipped its club-class quarters with a perk that used to be confined to first: a flat-bed seat. Think of it as the latest offensive in the great furniture war of the air - a bed in the sky for every business-class passenger between London and New York.
Personally, I couldn't resist. I've done that overnight run often, always in economy, emerging the next morning with aching limbs, matted hair, clingy trousers and a desperate need for slumber. Wouldn't it be great to dodge the entire experience by bedding down for the night at JFK and arriving in London fresh and ready for the new day?
BA's new service is obsessed with achieving that outcome. Sleep is the goal, pursued relentlessly. There's pre-board dining in the newly-built Terraces lounge in JFK: that way you can eat first, wasting no valuable sleep time onboard. If you're one of those travellers who skids into the airport with seconds to spare - and no time for the lounge - then the on-board menu includes a sleep-well option (olive bread stuffed with beef and ricotta cheese, followed by hot chocolate and cookies). It's not so much food as a soporific.
But the heart of the matter is the seat. It looks less like a chair than a pod. There are two seats in each unit, forming an S-shape - with a handy, fan-like screen to ensure no peeking between you and your neighbour (unless you want to). A TV screen swings out on a steel arm; there's a tiny little stand for cocktails as well as the regular tray table stowed in the seat arm. Also stashed away is a TV remote control, which doubles as a telephone, and a clutch of light-switches and gadgets. Once you've checked out all that lot - and the instruction manual is essential - you'll feel like Blofeld in a Bond movie. It's not a chair, it's a console.
If you find cramped legroom the true curse of economy travel, your heart will leap when you see the footstool folded away in front of you. Unlock it and a neat pumping action raises or lowers it to just the right height. Press the recline button and you'll think yourself blessed: comfy chair, feet up - the perfect conditions for watching a movie or reading a book.
But that's not the point. You must keep pressing the button and keep pressing some more. For the chair bends further and further back (forcing you to move your bottom, lest your backside gets trapped in the chair like a foot in an escalator). The electric movement takes the seat back to a full horizontal, until its front edge meets the footstool. Ta-da: it's a bed!
The frequent fliers are unfazed by all this, of course; these blasé habitues of business class know exactly what to do. They put away their Wall Street Journal before take-off, heading instead to the (larger than usual) bathroom where they swiftly change into sweatpants and cosy top (BA only provides the "sleepsuit" to first class). They don't eat on the plane, waving aside the offer of a menu, and they certainly don't drink. They don't bother unwrapping the headset or checking out the film guide.
Instead, they curl up under the blanket, buckle their belt over the top (so the steward can see it, and won't wake them during turbulence), and drop off in an instant. It seems high-powered folk are focused about everything they do - even sleep.
Within minutes, the cabin has the feel of a boarding-school dorm. The lights are dimmed, there are no announcements and all is quiet. And people are really asleep! Mouths are open, arms are dangling. No one snored on my flight but the business elite were definitely in the land of $500,000-a-year nod. (One cannot escape the suspicion that a few of them were getting a bit of chemical help: among the jetset, sleeping pills are the new coffee.)
I, alas, was not among them. My chair was comfortable, and it was long enough even for me (at 6 ft 1). But somehow I was denied full unconsciousness. Normally I would blame that on the plane and the tiny seat. Now I know the truth: the seat is perfect - it's me who has to change.
• A BA fully-flexible return ticket to New York costs £3,743. A Premium Leisure Saver in Business Class costs £3,375. Details: 0845 7733377.
