Lounge pig

I am one of the most disgusting, poorly trained, lounge pigs.

Soon after meeting Husband he introduced me to airline lounges.

I can’t remember which lounge I entered first, but I remember I was once a shy lounge guest.  I was conscious that people were watching me going up for food, eating the food, going for more food, etc.

Now, it’s a totally different story.

I barge on through the electronic glass doors.

I try and find prime seating, one preferably close to the food, bathroom and a power socket.

I dump my carry-on bag, trusting no one will want to steal my croc thongs and Cotton On cardigan.

I head towards the buffet, scooping and piling on as much food onto a plate as possible, taking it back to the coffee table, and then going back to pile another plate.  Honestly, I turn into a magpie, collecting things for the nest.

Then I sit and eat as if I haven’t eaten in weeks, despite it might have been only a couple of hours.

Afterwards, I go to the barista, order a soy cap, and while I am waiting, I go make myself a peppermint tea.

Then I sit, drink my hot drinks as I stare at the TVs on the wall.

Shortly after, I then roll my carry-on bag into the shower stall and proceed to have a shower.  It could be 9AM and I didn’t get to shower at home, it could be 9PM so it could be my shower for the day, or it could be 12NOON, where I just want to shower because there are free showers.

And only after I complete all the above that will I sit and wait until our flights are called.

Husband is always with me on these visits because I can’t access the lounge without him.  All I can say that his routine is nothing like mine.  It’s much more subtle… a bit boring… probably quite normal.

lounge pig

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