Flying low-cost carrier French Bee from Newark to Paris Orly
A low-cost transatlantic flight that starts with chilled champagne and ends with omelette fromage as the sunrise peaks through the shades?
On a recent French Bee flight from Newark to Paris Orly, that’s the treatment my three-year-old daughter Mimi and I enjoyed (with fresh-pressed OJ for her). While French Bee’s economy seats promise a cost-effective journey, the comfort and cushiness of Premium might be worth the splurge—particularly when traveling with les petites.
As a New Yorker who is now based in Paris, I’m well-versed in the transatlantic economy experience. Ever since French Bee, a self-proclaimed “affordable long-haul” airline, rolled out direct flights between Paris and Newark in 2021, I’ve snatched up the opportunity to travel home on the (relatively) cheap on several occasions. Since 2018, they’ve introduced direct flights to San Francisco, Los Angeles, and, most recently, Miami. Unsurprisingly, there’s been a lot of buzz about the bee.
The Paris-based airline offers three ticket options: Basic, the thriftiest choice, which includes one carry-on (up to 26 pounds); Smart, which includes a checked bag (up to 50 pounds) and an in-flight meal; and Premium, essentially the Smart package with an additional checked bag, tasty meals, free drinks, seat choice, and priority boarding.
The Basic is bare bones, but prices tend to be consistent (starting at $228 one-way New York to Paris as of March 2023) and extras are available à la carte, including options like added leg room starting at $45, priority luggage delivery starting at $20, and bistro-inspired in-flight meals developed by a Jean-Michel Lorain—a Michelin-starred chef based in Burgundy—that will set you back a cool $55.
French Bee operates on Airbus A350s, which feature 35 Premium and 376 Economy (Smart and Basic) seats. Though I was happy with the latter, I’d been curious about the former for some time. A solo overnight flight with a toddler seemed like the perfect time to try it. Passengers can either buy a Premium flight outright (prices starting at $617.70 one-way as of March 2023), or spring for the upgrade later.
In Premium, the flight attendants were less bubbly than the welcome beverages (foreshadowing the style of hospitality one can expect on arrival in Paris). Indeed, boarding began with a bit of turbulence—toddler and Yoyo stroller in tow, one of the flight attendants stopped me in my tracks and asked me to break down the stroller. But a few sweaty and flustered minutes later, we arrived at our seats, which were roomier than in economy and decked out with foot rests, wide arm rests, and cup holders for the aforementioned welcome drinks. Once seated, service was speedy and attentive.
As Mimi, cozy in her jammies, tried on the eye mask from her complimentary travel pack (which also comes with socks and headphones), I scanned the media selection—a seemingly random collection of movies and TV shows, both oldies and new releases, with timeless gems scattered throughout the grid. One of those gems, Capote featuring the late great Philip Seymour Hoffman, seemed like an ideal way to spend the first two hours of our flight. The shows for kids are scant, but before long, Mimi was sleeping soundly in a makeshift blanket-bed I’d created on the floor. I understand that some might consider floor-sleeping a questionable parenting decision, but I knew I was arriving in a Paris engulfed by transportation strikes. I didn’t want, I needed my kid to get some shut-eye.
Just as Capote boards a train to Kansas alongside Harper Lee (played by the inimitable Catherine Keener), my own journey hit some actual turbulence. The seatbelt sign illuminated and another flight attendant asked me to lift Mimi from her peaceful slumber and get her seated and buckled. I was admittedly a bit prickly, and in the spirit of the French, tried to protest, but was met with a firm “Safety first.”
Buckled and sailing smoothly over the North Atlantic, I tucked into what I’d describe as a pizza-baguette, with a glass of chilly Sauvignon Blanc. Capote’s harrowing story came to a conclusion, I polished off a mousse buried under a cloud of whipped cream, and then I managed to nod off for a few hours. I woke to the smell of warm, cheesy omelets, accompanied by strong black coffee and an episode of Mrs. America.
Once the plane disembarked, the Premium treatment came to a hard stop. Not a soul was working at the Paris airport customs and a near-riot ensued as beleaguered travelers banged on the glass partitions and demanded service—or at the very least, answers from someone with a pulse. Babies waled. Teenagers camped out cross legged on the floor, heads craned over their smartphones. Mimi, thankfully, was snoozing in her Yoyo. It would be two hours until we made it through to the other side. But having had such a smooth flight, I could almost take it in stride. www.cntraveler.com