In theory, our world is supposed to be allergic to these rituals. We claim to be egalitarians, believers in merit - champions of the ordinary person. But watch the faces at Gate 32 when Group One is called, and you’ll see how false those democratic ideals turn out to be. Status is the air we breathe. You can see it in the shoes we wear, the brands we flex, the followers we count, the schools our children attend. Boarding Group One ties it all together: the desire to be seen, the fear of being left behind, the gnawing suspicion that life is an exclusive club and the velvet rope is always just ahead.
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Of course, the ritual continues, with the parade from the plane’s front door through the first and business class seats. To be followed by the reverse to ensure you truly understand what you’re missing.
Given that my formative years were shaped by travelling the world in C130 Herclues military cargo planes, I still think a proper seat is a luxury.
There is also self-harm you can apply when your company won’t pay out for long-haul business class - you’re clearly not worth it.
However, I will confess to bending the knee to this charade by getting an upgrade by dressing as if I ‘belong’ in business class. I cringe at the phrase ‘Is the flight busy tonight?’ AKA the likelihood that the economy class is overbooked.
It’s hard to be totally Zen, but maybe some hope. My millennial son’s generation: Are they more aware of the world and cultural norms, or do they simply lack the financial means to engage with it?
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I think part of the cross-generational problem is that every generation has their own cultural norms, and they’re rarely entirely compatible