open sesame

I left Sydney a few days ago, not knowing when I will return next.  I'm not really a jet-setter.  Thanks to touring, I've become accustomed to long white lines, with every kilometer of progress made with the rotation of a wheel.

I can't drive to Australia. (Although, oy! What a trip that would be!) So, I fly.

Hey, here's a phenomenon that doesn't exist on the open road: the airport lounge.  I've heard of them.  I was even in one once – as the guest of a fellow traveler who knew the magical phrase that opened the mouth of the cave.

It was in the Sydney Kingsford Smith International, tucked away in a far off corner, that I found my haven.  Judging only from the entrance, this lounge was clearly more expansive than the one mentioned previously.  I noticed fellow travelers presenting their boarding passes.  I immediately felt I was playing the part of an interloper, and made the unanimous and unspoken decision with my travel companion to keep eyes forward and assume a brisk walk.

Which brings me to my #1 air travel tip: Dress well.  It just helps.

Shortly thereafter I found myself bellied up to the cold breakfast buffet with granola, yogurt, a smoothie, and a glass of juice in my hands.  I was sure we were trespassing.  With as much casualty as I could muster I surveyed what seemed to be a free-pour, fully stocked bar.  My transgression had to be obvious to all by now.

I sat down to enjoy my breakfast somewhat nervously while eyeing the bar, and was soon met by my smiling sweetie who had hit up the hot breakfast buffet.  His plate was full with eggs, bacon, potatoes, stewed tomatoes and beans. 

"I don't think we're supposed to be in here," I said.

But on second thought, why throw yourself out of paradise when you've entered undetected???  In addition to the open bar, there was a barista for goodness sakes!  When I grasped that everyone around me was drinking champagne it seemed best to do as the Romans, right?  It was halfway through my first flute that I saw we had one brief beautiful hour of bliss before a 13 hour flight to LA, then a connecting flight to Calgary for an eight hour layover and then home sweet...

"Would you get me another glass of bubbly, dear?"

We remained under the radar in the lounge until it was time to board.  By that time I was nearly convinced that we did in fact belong in the lounge.  We all do!  Equality and champagne for everyone.

Tipsy and full of smiles, we boarded alongside the tired masses who had missed the glorious secret breakfast made especially for the travel elites and the sneaky Petes.