Platinum Member

Flying when you have status is dope.

30 flights that first year. I knew all the tricks to get round the airport quick. I knew when the lounge changed its meals. I could tell the seasons by the menu.

You choose your seat, double your baggage allowance and if you say the right things to the right person at the checkout - you can get yourself an upgrade or a flight pushed forward. I can’t lie, that feeling of self importance when you cruise past a line of people to get to your seat strokes the ego.

I started to feel the miles. Waking up at 3am to get an Uber at 4am, landing in another city in my pyjamas and having to go straight to the lounge to get changed. The novelty wore away like the leather on my soles.

I’d been to Europe for a third time in a year, each only for 5-7 days. Each time the jetlag slightly worse. The last time was the foggiest. I was at my 30th. Brain fog through most of the event with people who travelled to celebrate with me on my special day.

Platinum isn’t the reward for the flying. It’s the record of the leaving.