Dialogue: Even high-flyers have low points

In the embryonic stages of our corporate careers, my ambitious colleagues and I deemed it absolutely critical to belong to an airline club, even if we travelled infrequently and only ever domestically.

We set out to convince the bean counters that it was imperative the company fork out for club membership in case of extended flight delays, impromptu pre-flight client meetings and other rare occurrences.

The real reason, of course, is that we didn't want to look like Larry Loser hanging with the standby passengers, other people's relatives and students while others were hooking into the club sandwiches in carpeted comfort so close but oh-so-far away.

It was the dying influences of the 80s - a flashy era when image was everything and it was important to stay "in character" as a businessperson, even at down times.

Now in the new millennium, we are supposedly far less concerned by status. We are all travelling more and almost everyone belongs to one or another airline club.

They are places where those with a been-there-done-that attitude to travel can escape the riff raff and relax in comfort.

But airline club lounges seem to foster a culture quite the opposite. Because of the members-only policy and confined atmosphere, it's more a case of being "on show" and acting the part. Even in the cellphone-free area, people still feel compelled to at least keep checking for messages.

Conduct seems to be strictly business, leading airport club lounges to be by and large a sea of conservatism. All suits and cellphones - those in jeans we assume are on holiday or on a visitor's pass.

A wildly successful entrepreneurial friend of mine is as friendly as a Golden Labrador, but his club lounge "giddays" are always ignored by other members.

They are concentrating on looking the part and shielded by a newspaper or business magazine, rather than the trashy novels and self-help books they probably favour at home.

International lounges are often more direct with their social codes, particularly those with the solid, locked door and buzzer system. I always imagine I am being scrutinised though a peephole by a dimwit nightclub doorman selecting the right mix of people for the desired ambience. Once in, one still must face the gatekeeper at the counter, who looks at your card. For a split second one feels inexplicably guilty, as when stopped by a cop for no apparent reason.

My worst experience was in Los Angeles airport when no one told me my airline operated two lounges. The one I innocently made a beeline for was reserved for the likes of Bill Gates, the Queen and Madonna.

I buzzed, got through the door and was hurriedly shunted off the premises by the gatekeeper in the direction of a second lounge closely resembling a seventh form common room, which was designated for everyone else deemed only moderately successful.

Now at our truly grand international airport, those more equal than others can enjoy the private, club-members-only check-in area, with glass doors for the plebs to peek through.

Recently, my colleague and I swept past the almost empty public check-in area to this fancy elitist facility which was, of course, full of other hand-luggage-only business poseurs, all fashionably late and arrogant enough to assume they could arrive well after the suggested time.

But because of a couple of awkward passengers, the queues were sluggish and we all found ourselves line-jumping as if we were in a People's Bank on benefit day.

Temperatures started rising as we imagined missing out on the relaxing cup of tea and club sandwich session in the members' lounge.

Did anyone think to join the plebs outside?

No way - good money is paid for the benefit of going up the cool private escalator direct to the "other side."

Half an hour before the allotted departure time we had a choice of leisurely making our way to the gate via the wonderful world of shopping or racing to the lounge to "relax." We opted for the latter, downing a cup of tea and club sandwich in five minutes.

On the final boarding call we walked at a slightly panicked pace to the gate, which was by now deserted.

Once on board, we finally unwound. The doors closed, the plane departed and we accepted a kind offer of a cup of tea and a club sandwich.