If you want to go to Australia, you pretty much have to go through LA. So we flew into Los Angeles this morning, arriving about 10:30 a.m. Unfortunately, our plane to Fiji didn’t leave until 11:30 p.m. (2:30 a.m. by my home town clock). Fortunately, our travel agent gave us passes to the Continental President’s Club.
I’d always gazed longingly at those fancy wood-paneled doors, wondering what delights lay within. So I was practically giddy with anticipation as we pressed the little doorbell and were admitted.
OK, I’m a writer—my imagination always surpasses reality. But it was still very nice—much better than huddling in a cracked vinyl chair in the boarding area or wandering the concourses, looking for a place to plug in my power-depleted laptop. There were work carrels with power outlets, lights, and telephones. There was wireless Internet access throughout the club. There were comfortable chair groupings with more power outlets. There was a pantry area with tea, coffee, water, and snacks including crackers and cheese and fruit.
OK, I’m a writer—my imagination always surpasses reality. But it was still very nice—much better than huddling in a cracked vinyl chair in the boarding area or wandering the concourses, looking for a place to plug in my power-depleted laptop. There were work carrels with power outlets, lights, and telephones. There was wireless Internet access throughout the club. There were comfortable chair groupings with more power outlets. There was a pantry area with tea, coffee, water, and snacks including crackers and cheese and fruit.
Did I mention there were power outlets?
I did a last quick-edit of The Exiled Queen before sending it off to my editor using the handy wireless access. My husband updated my website with photos from the Demon King tour. I looked around at the other patrons, wondering if they were really presidents or if they’d got in on a pass like us.
I couldn’t help thinking that it would be nice if such a lounge was made available to airline passengers if, say, their flights were cancelled or delayed through no fault of their own. Recalling my night spent sleeping on a baggage cart in Laguardia Airport (it was raining), and my night spent sleeping under a chair in Heathrow Airport (air traffic controllers strike) it would have been much more pleasant to have spent them hanging with the Presidents.
My husband and I took photos of each other sitting in the President’s Club, because who knew if we would ever get there again.
2 comments:
I wish airports were like this in general. Maybe everyone could pay $20 more for their plane ticket, but then we'd all get to wait for our flights in style.
Some airports are better at making you feel welcome than others, though. The old international airport at Bangkok, for example (I haven't been to the new one yet) has a built-in hotel where you can get decent rooms quite inexpensively for six hours at a time. If you have a long layover or an unexpected delay, it's great to be able to relax in your own private room, while still being in the middle of the airport.
I love being a road warrior, and I love my toys.
If you’re going to be working from the road for fun (or out of dire need), I highly recommend the Samsung N120.
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