Business Class Bum

There are many ways to judge an airport, one of them being the availability of wireless Internet. I often ponder if the proceeds of such outrageous charges go to the wireless provider or the airport, because I am not one to misdirect disdain. Although Cleveland has free wireless, many airports use Boingo and charge seven dollars for what is typically thirty solid minutes of Internet time. As a product offering, I suppose highlighting the competitive message of "free wireless" draws attention to the lack of other services, such as flights. Perhaps it is not economically wise for airports to offer guests free wireless. After all, the airport food and beverages are so cheap, and a business must generate money somehow.

Well, Dulles airport does not have wireless. Since I arrived five hours before my flight (I was not about to take any risks), I could not check in for another two hours and was forced to find other means of entertainment. During this time, the airport once again amazed me. As I was sitting, a family of four passed. One of the boys was wearing a UVA shirt, and the family was indeed from Charlottesville. We then compared travel sob stories; though I lost more money, their cancellations may be more unfortunate as the situation is out of their control.

I then decided to purchase an airport bargain burger for only $15. By this point, my stomach had eased a bit. I say a bit because the family of four had informed me the flight was overbooked by thirty people, and I had yet to receive confirmation of my seat. Until 6:45, however, I had no option besides eating and drinking. As is my custom at airports, I sat at the bar and began chatting with the gentlemen to my left who happened to live in the same city as my sister, Julie.

After solid conversation and a delicious turkey burger, the moment of truth had come. I approached the desk timidly, deciding that Air France definitely has the prettiest flight attendants with the sexiest accents. Prepared for an ironic twist of fate that landed me back in Charlottesville within four hours, I let go of my passport. After being scanned, it appeared to be processing smoothly. She did not tell me I was on standby; in fact, she told me I was flying business. My jaw dropped, or more like drooped, as my body is rapidly approaching a coma like state and any rapid movement of my muscles has ceased.

Perhaps the customer service rep had mercy on me, or perhaps it was a clerical error. Per usual, I find it is best not to consider the reasons behind circumstances, good or bad.

Which lands me here. Relaxing in the Air France business class lounge in sweats with a free Vodka tonic and chocolate cake, dropping eaves on fellow elitists speaking with beautiful accents, and using all the free wireless I fancy. I am also without my fourteen kilo carry-on; due to recently achieved superior status, all such petty fees are waived. Unfortunate cirumstances: still zero. Anna: two.