Putting the 'Class' in Business Class

The departure area at JFK is swarming with sketchy English youths dressed as if it were 2003. There can be few places on earth with a higher Von Dutch-cap-per-square-foot density. I came of age at a school in which we lustily bellowed daily hymns about building a glorious “Jerusalem in England’s green and pleasant land.” The England we imagined bestowed the Boy Scouts, Mary Poppins, and bangers ’n’ mash upon the world. A noble nation starkly at odds with the scene I now witnessed as four sour, pasty-faced teens pillaged the overpriced souvenir rack at Hudson News. As I flashed back to high school history classes, the Duke of Wellington came to mind. Whilst inspecting his soldiers on the eve of the Battle of Waterloo, he quipped: “I don’t know what effect these men will have upon the enemy, but by God, they frighten me.” They were the kind of people more commonly seen on security cameras rioting in English city centers rather than boarding transatlantic flights.

The British Airways business lounge offered little respite. It is well appointed. Perhaps too well appointed. The lounge’s architects had the novel yet ill-advised idea of outfitting an area as a pub, replete with working beer pumps. The majority of my fellow passengers could not believe their freeflowing good luck. Before I knew it, the rugby-shirted beer guzzlers had moved onto spirits and the business lounge had taken on the smell and chaotic bustle of a “knees-up” at a local boozer. The second my flight was called, I fled for the gate.