An ode to the airport lounge

I was first indoctrinated into the joys of the airport lounge by a well-seasoned union official I travelled with every few weeks, over the course of about six months, negotiating a new enterprise agreement. It was a whole new world of status credit accumulation and judging people by the colour of their bag tag. The lounge was an airline branded haven of carefully grouped chairs and tables and free food and booze, far from the travelling hordes seated next to each other in awkward rows at the departure gates.