Airport Lounges

The dynamics of the less than exclusive airport lounge

I spend more time than most in airports, and it’s led me to a unique discovery of subculture brought on mostly by credit card benefits. Airport lounges and private clubs. The man sitting next to me, voice texting into his phone, actually inspired me to write about this experience.

He reminded me that not all heroes wear capes; some actually wear bright orange jack-o’-lantern shirts. Like the old guy yelling “Excuse me!” at the lounge workers to let them know that they “missed a spot mopping.”

There’s another couple sitting near me wearing complimentary plaid (photo for context) with matching K-N95 masks. She’s grumbling over a nearly blank Canva document. He’s pacing in an unsettling and nearly irresponsible way.

From across the room, it looks like a slideshow, so of course I imagined an entire life for them. I assume that she is an accomplished businesswoman trying to get funding for a new passion project that will replace her 9-to-5. He, like any trophy husband, is just tagging along for moral support as she closes the deal of their lifetime.

When I first walked into the lounge a bit earlier, a bisexual-looking young man approached the front desk worker holding his hand, “Excuse me…” he said timidly.

“I dropped some glass and need a broom to sweep the rest up. I got most of it up already, don’t worry.” Son, I’m actually quite worried now about your hand.

What I’ve really learned along the way is that lounge access is a power play. Few people actually need it, yet everyone feels self-important for having it.

Thank you, Chase Bank, for giving it to me as a credit card benefit.

Also, lots of vests are going on.