“We’ll put out bacon and eggs at 7. There’s coffee, cereal and bagels on the counter and a full bar in the back,” the chipper hostess offered as she scanned our boarding passes. “Drinks are complimentary. Welcome to The Club at LAS. I’ll show you around.”
It’s 6:58 a.m. on a Sunday in Las Vegas’s McCarran International Airport. My wife and I have already been awake almost 5 hours – our 6-year-old daughter, Vivian, about 4 hours. I expected to spend the next three hours eating McDonald’s off my lap and trying to tune out whatever TV news station was sure to be droning even above the pings and payouts of the cluster of slot machines in the center of the terminal gates.
Instead, I’m being led to a magical land of free bacon, free coffee, free drinks, a muted TV (still showing the news, of course), comfortable chairs, tables, and really good jazz playing softly in the background.
What voodoo is this? Continue reading