The secret world of airport lounges
Friday, 15 June 2012The lounge at Madrid Airport, by Mike Cogh |
On the way back from Brussels, we got to pop into the Aer
Lingus airport lounge. I was the rookie on this press trip, so it was my first
time in one. I didn’t really know what happened in them: they barely registered
on my radar. They were a mysterious land where David Beckham would kill a bit
of time before his Concorde flight.
“Be cool” I thought to myself as we were ushered in. All the
other writers were clearly used to them, as they scattered in search of wifi and
plug sockets.
I didn’t want to expose myself as a Poor Ass Sally, but I
quickly noticed that everything seemed to be free. And it was! There was a bar,
people, a bar! A fridge full of Leffe, a selection of wines, and a little row
of spirits! A coffee machine, soft drinks, fruit and cake. Unfortunately, I
really didn’t want to drink. I was about to get on a plane, and we’d had wine
at lunch. I had a flight and a long train ride ahead of me. But the coffee was
good.
There were comfy seats, free internet and newspapers around
the place. It was a taste of the life that I could have had, if only I’d have
gotten a real job . My hair would be shiny and clean, my clothes would be
ironed and my skin would be clear. I would say “Yah, yah” more often, and I
wouldn’t eat KFC. That’s the kind of person I would be.
But being that person for half an hour was good enough for
me. I hate brushing my hair. And I hate ironing. And every so often, I do like
a KFC. There. I said it.
When I got back, I found out that using these lounges isn’t
as expensive as you might think. If you had 3 hours to kill, then it’s worth
thinking about it. You’ll have somewhere comfortable to sit, you can google
away, and eat cake. Three hours in the lounge at Dublin is €20, which seems to
be the average.
Just don’t get langers on the wine, and make a show of
yourself. Remember, you’re not that person any more. For these three hours, at
least, you’re the kind of girl who brushes your hair.
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