The Budget Flight That Cost Me My Lounge Pass (and My Last Nerve)

THE TRAIN THAT DECIDED EVERYTHING

The only train I could take got me to the airport five hours before boarding.
There were no other options — it was this train or risk missing the flight altogether.

So I booked it, took it, and showed up painfully early.
I figured I’d kill time in the lounge.

Ha. Ha. Ha.

I NEVER CHECK BAGS, EXCEPT THIS TIME

Normally, I pack light. Like, no liquids and no regrets kind of light.
But this time, I was carrying supplies for a charity — the kind of things you don’t squeeze into a backpack.

So I paid for a checked bag.

I also paid for business class, which on this budget airline means… nothing, really.
Wider seat. Maybe a second cookie. Definitely not a better experience.

THE DESK THAT DIDN’T EXIST

I rolled up to the airline’s check-in counter, and you guessed it — no one was there.

No kiosks. No open counter. Not even a soul to yell “we open at 4.”

Just a taped-up sign that read:

“Check-in opens 2 hours before departure.”

And because I had a checked bag, I couldn’t get my boarding pass without talking to someone.
Which meant I couldn’t get through security.
Which meant...

THE LOUNGE THAT MOCKED ME

I had a paid lounge pass — a single-use gift to myself. It included food, coffee, outlets, a calm place to sit, and the sweet illusion that I am someone who has it together.

The pass had a 1-hour grace window before expiration.
No extensions.
No customer service.
No email.
No refund.
The official website suggested I "cancel and rebook."

Oh? Shall I also call up the train and ask them to run on a different timetable next time?

I watched the clock tick past my lounge pass window while sitting on the airport floor like a sad gremlin with an overstuffed suitcase and a slowly dying phone battery.

“I Made It Into the Lounge”

Eventually, the counter opened.

I checked my bag. I made it through security. And I sprinted toward the lounge like it was a finish line and I was fueled entirely by spite and peppermint gum.

I made it in with minutes to spare.

No refund necessary. No rebooking required. Just me, a sad half-hour of lounge access, and a very smug cup of coffee.

It wasn’t glamorous. It wasn’t long. But it was mine.

MORAL OF THE STORY

Sometimes, budget travel means no one’s at the desk.
Sometimes, your plans go sideways.
And sometimes… you still get your croissant and your moral victory.

Until the next adventure (hopefully with earlier counter hours),
— T.R. Avel