I’m a huge fan of the airport lounge.
Except when all social order breaks down, and savages overrun the place.
And by savages, I mean people who blab loudly into their phones and parents who go uh-oh!-ing while their kid vomits on the floor.
I’m less of a fan when I encounter such people.
Like I did on a recent trip.
More on that in a minute.
First, I’ll admit the airport lounge makes me feel superior.
“You know what we call those people?” I ask my daughter while looking down from the Delta Sky Club upon the masses at Salt Lake City’s main terminal.
“What?” she asks.
“Schmucks.”
Better she understand that at a young age.
Now, I know I’m a nobody.
If I were somebody, my driver would deliver me straight to the tarmac where the engines of my private jet would already be turning, ready to taxi the moment I stepped onboard. I’d have no use for lounges or public airports in general.
But, since I’m a nobody, I rely upon the behind-the-velvet-rope feeling of the airport lounge to give me the sense of moral superiority necessary to look down upon non-loungers.
And that makes me feel good.
Plus, the lounge has all-you-can-drink Starbucks and those little dishes of mixed nuts.
So you can understand why I don’t appreciate it when savages ruin the experience.
“No . . . Dad . . . listen . . . you have to . . . No! You hit the button first, and then turn it around.”
Some lady had just sit down next to me. I had purposely chosen an out-of-the-way corner of the lounge to get a little quiet, which this lady clearly intended to deny me.
She was apparently coaching her elderly-sounding father on how to use FaceTime.
“I can hear you,” he says, “but I can’t seeee you.”
“Just hit the button, Dad. Hit. The. Button.”
I went on like this for ten minutes.
Why is it that some people lose all situational awareness when talking on their damn phones?
She had no clue how obnoxious -- and loud -- she was being. And no amount of stink-eye aimed in her direction was able to alert her to this fact.
I thought about moving to a different area of the lounge.
But I’d been there first, dammit. If anyone should move, it should be her.
As I’m cursing the phone lady in my head, a young-ish mom and dad arrive in the same area with their toddler.
The mom goes to work arranging all the kid gear on a couple chairs while the dad goes off to get food.
While mom’s doing her thing, she’s paying no attention to the kid, who’s wandering all over the lounge.
A few minutes later, I hear this, “bluh . . . bluh . . . bllluuhhhhhrrrrrpppttt!” while the kid sprays vomit all over the floor next to a potted palm.
The mom, hearing this, turns in the direction of the kid. Instead of immediately grabbing a towel or a napkin or a wet wipe . . . something . . . like any responsible parent would, she instead stands right where she is, let’s out this ridiculous, squeaky laugh, and says, “uh-oh!”
A couple of lounge staff members then come running over and start cleaning up the mess.
The dad returns, sees the mom finally going after the kid and the staff cleaning up the mess, and pieces together what’s happened.
Then, an older-looking gentleman, who appears to be the manager, also makes his way over. He politely asks the couple if everything’s okay.
“Oh, we’re fine,” says the dad. “These things happen. The important thing is not to over-react.”
He says all this while the mom holds the kid, congratulating it for having puked all over the floor.
“Such a big girl!” she says.
People, please.
We need to do better. Much, much better.
Want to make the world a better place?
Let’s start by cleaning up our act at the lounge.
Let’s observe proper lounge protocol and be courteous to our fellow loungers.
Don’t even think about using FaceTime. And, for the love of God, do not treat your puking kid as something to be celebrated.
Let’s set a good example for non-loungers, even as we continue to look down upon them.
This is how we all move toward a more peaceful, harmonious existence.
Are you with me?
Because if you’re not, skip the lounge, and go hang out with the shmucks in the main terminal.
I’m sure they won’t mind your obnoxious phone call or your vomiting kid.
And I’m sure you won’t mind theirs.
I’m Dan Bozung, and I approve this message.