Once the mysterious glamour-holes of unabashed exclusivity, lounges nowadays let just about anyone in with the right supermarket loyalty cards, forged letters of assignment from newspaper travel editors or cold, hard cash. Time was, the elite would swan around these oases of sophistication, exchanging mutually admiring looks as part of the esteemed club that has separated itself from the peasantry. As access has become more democratic, these standards have slipped somewhat, and most lounges now resemble an unstaffed all night garage, with layover-fatugued hordes fighting over free nuts. Nice places, but only if you’re happy to sit amid empty packets of cheese crackers and the stench of misplaced arrogance.
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