bright foyer. A large reception desk with three uniformed women fills one side of the space while the other is a large mirror. People meander around in the distance. Some on their phones, others carrying drinks and food in their hands. My stomach takes that moment to grumble. Maybe I can kill two birds with one stone. Food and an interview.
Shaking off the cobwebs in my head as I take in the opulence of the room, my shoulder is hit by a man wearing some sort of uniform. I don’t know his role here, whatever it is, but the job must not include apologizing for our near accident. He doesn’t say anything. Instead he gives me the once over, clearly assessing my threat level. I’m unclear what, exactly, I’m a potential threat to, but I don’t make any sudden movements while he looks at me. I don’t really have time to be tackled to the ground and stuck in a windowless room while security decides if I can get on the plane home.
Eventually, I see a small shrug and he turns away from me, never saying a word. Just leaves.
That was weird, but not entirely unexpected for how my life goes when it comes to a convention weekend. Four years’ worth of the universe playing with me is not easily written off as coincidence.
As I step farther into the foyer, I right my scattered mess and suck in a deep breath, calming my nerves and racing heart. The woman at the desk greets me with an immediate smile.
“Hello. How can I help you today?” She’s tall and blonde with her hair pulled back in a perfect chignon and dressed in an outfit that reminds me of a Pan Am stewardess circa the 1950s. She’s very glam. If that’s any indication of how the lounge is run, I’m a fan already.
Flashing her a kind smile I step up to the counter. “I’m not a Premiere member but I’d like to see about using the lounge for the day.” And by day I mean the next half hour before my flight begins boarding.
“Absolutely,” she replies. “We have some availability at the moment and our dinner buffet was just put out for your enjoyment.”
“Wonderful,” I say demurely even though I kind of want to clap my hands together at the thought of a fancy meal. Maybe I need to become a Premiere member after all for perks like this.
“I’ll just need a photo ID and your boarding pass please.”
Finding my driver’s license is easy and I hand it over quickly. My boarding pass, on the other hand, seems to be hiding from me. I’m not surprised. I shoved everything in my bag when I was racing after Hunter. It probably got smooshed at the bottom. This is why I hate disorganization. It’s so much faster and easier when things are in their proper places.
A few clicks of her keyboard while I search for my ticket and she “hmms.” “I’m not finding you in our system, Miss Pump…er…Pumperkin. I’ll have to search it by your itinerary number.”
Feeling a little flustered from this mess, I blow a wayward curl out of my face. “I’m so sorry. I’m usually more organized than this.” Unless I’m chasing after movie stars… “Give me one second. It’s my first time using the lounge.”
“Take your time.” Her words are very polite, but I notice a tinge of unhappiness at me being frazzled. I suppose those who use the lounge regularly are probably better prepared than I am to check in.
It takes a few more minutes and practically emptying out my bag all over the floor to remember what I’m looking for is actually in my purse. Sounds about right for my day.
“Sorry about that,” I say sheepishly as I hand it over. “I put it in my purse so I wouldn’t lose it. Typical, right?”
She is not amused. Even less so when she looks at my boarding pass.
“Ma’am, you’re not flying our airline.”
“Does that make a difference?”
“The VIP lounges are airline specific.” Sliding my boarding pass across the counter, her friendly demeanor practically evaporates. “And unfortunately, the discount airline you’re flying doesn’t have one in this airport. Or anywhere.”
She says the word “discount” like it’s offensive to her. I guess she’s never had to decide between upgrading to an airline that provides a drink and peanuts and paying the electric bill. Lucky her.
“So then why can’t I use this one? I’m willing to pay like everyone else.”
“That’s not the way