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Virgin Clubhouse, Hong Kong International

Damn, it’s good to be a frequent flyer. All that travelling on Delta last year finally paid off with Gold status, and Delta’s partnership with Virgin Atlantic means that at Hong Kong, after a sleepless night flight, itself following an endless trek around Changi airport for dinner, I got to sit in a pleasant space while nice people continually bring me food and drinks. If I wasn’t so tired, I’d be embarrassed.

I could easily get shitfaced on strong drink, but this early in the morning that’s not just unattractive, it’s reprehensible, so I drink gallons of orange juice and eat bowls of fruit salad. Somehow this will make me healthy again, I tell myself.

Food is cooked to order here: it feels a waste not to have bacon and sausages, damn my vegetarianism. That’s different to a lot of lounges, where you just get some depressing pastries and horrible, overbrewed hotel style coffee. (No coffee for me today – I’m planning on staying up until I board, then sleeping all the way across the Pacific.)

There’s not much else to say. It fascinates me that by having access to something for rich people (an airport lounge) actually saves me money – otherwise I’d be wandering around the airport like a spendthrift zombie, buying endless tat in the hope it would provide some solace against reality. Whereas here I can idly flick through the Economist, watch TV or eat as much as I can, without ever paying. It’s a good life, if you don’t weaken.

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