Rest on the B744 was the same as resting in a hotel, fabulous in my opinion, as you had your own bedroom with a flat bed and could be totally isolated from the other shenanigans on the upper deck. Rest on the DC10 on the flea-bitten mattress which any self respecting tramp would turn his nose up at was a different kettle of fish. And often meant sleeping in subzero conditions between the crates of fish!
Rest on the B742 was akin to trying to sleep in a YMCA or overly exuberant youth hostel!
IMHO!