Now I remember why I hate being at home. Nothing interesting happens and therefore there is nothing to write about. I must get out of the house at once for the sake of the blog!
The highlight of my week was finishing reading Brothers Karamazov at a beachfront cafe, crying my eyes out at the end. I guess the cafe wasn’t so popular because there was no one there despite the great weather outside. As a typical MBA, all I could think of afterwards was how to improve the appearance of the place and market it so that it gets more customers. I sat there for 2 hours (!!) and no one came. I was toying with the idea of painting the outside walls with bright colors, hiring a music band, or putting some creative sign outside.. then I decided it’s non of my business and moved on with my life.
Back to what I had planned to write about before – business lounges. Since I got my amazing gold status at Continental (Tfu Tfu and touch wood that I get to keep it for next year as well..), I have been spoiled rotten in avoiding many lines at the airport and getting free access to the business lounges almost everywhere. It got to a point where I started to give condescending gazes to all those common folk sitting outside on the shitty chairs with strangers’ babies drooling over them, while they devour their disgusting Big-Mac. “Was I one of THOSE people before?”, would cross my mind as I would pass them by with a disgusted look as I turned to my business lounge. “Now I am a legitimate member of the President, Emerald, Executive or [enter any other pompous name here] lounge, and not one of those peasants”.
Anyhow, I am digressing. What I actually meant to write was about my feeling at those lounges. Generally, I go there to eat and spend an hour or so before my flight, reflecting on what I must have forgotten to do / prepare. This gives me sufficient time to focus on people-watching and play the “glimpse into my future” game. This is very simple. As most of the time the people in those places are signficantly older than me, I try to guess who would I look like among them when I am older. Will I be the super refined lady with perfect makeup, diamond jewellery and the designer suit. Or maybe, I will be the one dressed in wrinkled biz casual, looking like she hasn’t slept for two months but definitely had time to overbleach her hair? Or maybe I will be the abandoned wife of the charm-exuding gentlemen on the other side of the room. That one, who looks perfect, acts perfects but never has time for his personal life and loved ones. He is married to his job and to his ego.
Another habit I picked up visiting those lounges is the need to compare between them and always find the many ways in which they are better than the ones run by Continental (filter coffee, seriously?). So far the favorite one was the Virgin Atlantic lounge in Heathrow but who can compete with a free hair salon for guests??? Certainly, not Continental.
A third thing I observed about these lounges is that they are probably good places to men. They are successful, well dressed, seemingly well-educated (one could hypothetically observe and see if they are reading the Economist or playing aircraft lander on their iPad). On the other hand, this annoying thought crosses your mind.. if he is picking you up in Charles de Gaulle today, maybe he is picking someone else up in Heathrow next week? who knows?
I guess these are all my thoughts on business lounges for now. Sitting at home doesn’t provide too much brain stimulation, although I do feel like my sense of honor and love for my nation is definitely improved after reading the Brothers. “Oh, mother Russia”