when I went through the security gates at Gatwick this morning on my way to Amsterdam, the guard on duty gave me a wry smile & said, 'you can always tell a frequent flyer'.
ugh.
while, at first, I was chuffed that I'd not invoked the wrath of the summertime airport guard, I'm left with this overwhelming sense of ickiness. To me, being a frequent flyer means:
- getting up at 4am to fly to historic cities that I don't see in order to attend unnecessary meetings;
- hedging my bets by unpacking most of my bag & disrobing of all accessories (shoes, belts, hairclips, glasses, jewellery);
- getting 2 stamps on my Caffe Nero card because the barista recognises me from a few days before.
most importantly, it means being away from home and missing out on normal life (like dinner with friends or just sitting in the garden on a summer evening).
that's not worth anything. to anyone.
(originally published 02/08/2011)
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