As I sit in the waiting area of Perth airport, heading for England, hot with temporary air conditioners blaring away the ticket machine whirling, the 'glamour' of travel is a long way away. I am outside of the Qantas and Emirates private lounges, like others, out in the cold. I can't buy my way past the red plastic and red velvet ropes of the exclusive airport lounges. I stupidly took the cheapest flight to England, not checking the stop over times - with an 8 hour stop over in Dubai, there will be no release. I enquire about buying my way into a lounge at Dubai airport - no luck - there is one lounge available, not Qantas or Emirates, but the reviews don't rate it and its not cheap. This trip is unexpected and very personal. I've travelled between England and Australia many times, but not as an orphan. The reality has not sunk in yet of my change in circumstances. I will be staying with my sister. I have a brother, but my brother and sister do not get on. They live 5 miles away, but they communicate as best they can through me, 12,000 miles away. The automatic glass-sliding doors to the exclusive lounge open and close to let those fortunate (or unfortunates) who travel frequently or have non-economy seats into their welcoming arms. Welcome sir, madam. How is your day? I recently read status anxiety yet still feel somehow a lesser person, having not quite made it in life.
First Class, Business Class, Gold Class, Silver Class are now boarding. How about I've-paid-enough-and-don't-make-me-feel-bad-because-I-want-to-save-some-money class. After the shuffle to board, the plane is pretty empty so I can use all three seats to lie down and get some rest. I watch the movie Interstellar. Its not a comedy, but I find it funny. The story line is amazing in that it has plot-holes the size of black holes. Maybe its long, maybe its on a small screen and not Imax, maybe I get how stories are put together, and see through the ebb and flows. Seen too many behind the scenes, and envisage the discussions about characters. Time to switch off. The lady next to me has been trying and will try for the whole flight to get her in-flight movie system to work. I've called the stewardess twice to get the system rebooted, still not working, but the infinite combination of touches and swipes are tried and tried again. And again. The English are too polite to cause a fuss, but inside they'll be rage and will tell everyone about their experiences. I am still amazed that you can have 2000 channels of entertainment. I open up the on board magazine - it is full of visions of glamour, wealth and hope. One picture stands out and I have to take a photo. It is of a couple next to a Ferrari, he has an impossibly muscled chest and wears a cravat. She is petite and attractive. They are modelling cashmere jumpers. I do not feel a lesser person and do not want to make it in life.