Another week of flights this week, back and forth to Texas, which meant another week of waiting around gates, waiting to board, waiting a few steps away from men—they’re always men—quivering with anxiety near the priority lane, fifteen minutes before boarding, frowning to let us all know the man will board first, his status will be acknowledged, his privilege will be respected and honored and met.
I watched such a man Thursday morning and thought status is a very funny thing.
Two friends told me separately this week they just made Diamond Medallion with Delta Airlines, and both said it in tones to suggest more relief than satisfaction, something to do with maintaining, not slipping—to board sooner, be upgraded more frequently, get invited to the fenced-off open bar/kindergarten that is today’s first class travel.
But airline status comes at high cost, right? The time and money spent on flights, on long rides to airports through traffic, long treks through airports themselves—and how does boarding first, or a bigger seat, or a free drink really feel, outside the scheme?
(I mean, for the very tall, I get it, legroom makes a difference, all respect from this 5’11” person whose knees don’t complain.)
Status, though, is everything—as in, if desire is the human condition, status is often the common object sought, perhaps even more than love? Credentials, degrees, privileges. Esteem, prestige, follower counts. To be noticed and prized: I am this, therefore I am due that. Tom Wolfe basically dedicated his career to it, though I don’t think anybody reads Bonfire of the Vanities anymore. (“Vulgar, but not as vulgar as Louis Vuitton, thought Sherman.”)
It’s exhausting but it’s also kinda gorgeous, at least for me, to observe the hunt for status, for all the built-in human folly. The anxious man with the first class boarding pass, fretting at the gate, hungry to be acknowledged—is he comic or tragic, or both? It’s not hard to see underneath his appetite some despair. Because status is deception, status is hilarious, and human foolishness is comical, beautiful, very on display (including my own). And still people are all so different, right? On the flight to Texas, I stripped down to a T-shirt because I was sweating, while a guy across the aisle wore a down jacket and looked cold. Our thermostats are our thermostats. Our desires are our desires. I’m reminded, I guess, how extremely hard it is to see another person in their complexity. So, I try, I fail, I try again, I fail again.
In tomorrow’s Sunday supplement for supporters:
Oddly good torch songs from Gen Z
Some recommendations from the most clued-in music person I know
The best from the week in online reading, and more
What the what
Meditations in an Emergency is a weekly dispatch from writer Rosecrans Baldwin about something beautiful. Paying subscribers receive a Sunday supplement with 3+ things to love, plus a monthly longer piece sent from the road, for some inbox wanderlust ⛰️
Rosecrans is the bestselling author of Everything Now. His most recent novel, The Last Kid Left, was one of NPR’s Best Books of the Year. Titles mentioned in Meditations in an Emergency are stored on a Bookshop list, which pays a commission for any books sold.