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Airport lounges cement the class system. And the food's not even that good
Airport lounges cement the class system. And the food's not even that good

The Guardian

time4 hours ago

  • The Guardian

Airport lounges cement the class system. And the food's not even that good

Summer, I've been told, is travel season. From about May to August, we're all meant to be flinging cash at airlines, hotels, overpriced restaurants with watered-down Aperol spritzes, and whatever new wonder drug is supposed to make our bodies moderately palatable for display at the beach. The social pressure to go somewhere (anywhere) during summer has only gotten more pervasive since social media began its clumsy, knifepoint home invasion into our brains. Our Instagram and TikTok accounts are just free advertising for the travel industry. 'Gosh, Spain looks nice. But maybe Mexico City is more chic these days?' It doesn't matter where you go, as long as you go. Travel seems more socially necessary than ever, even while the toll it takes on the environment gets heavier and the prospects of being allowed back home get grimmer. Travel is not healthy for the planet, and it's not healthy for your mental state. But, according to the New York Times, it is delicious. Airport lounges across the world are investing in better food, fancier accommodations and other perks like 'being left alone' and 'a functional shower'. You can have access to posh hideaways like the Delta One Lounge or the American Express Centurion Lounge for a price (either credit card fees or a long, expensive flight to a place you don't necessarily want to go). Awaiting you are opulent buffets with food from celebrity chefs such as José Andres and Kwame Onwuachi, and open bars with elaborate cocktails on offer. Most things in these lounges are free, but there are always extras for those who are truly irresponsible with their money. The Delta One Lounge at New York's John F Kennedy airport offers dollops of caviar for $85. At most of these places, you can get actual champagne, rather than the bathtub-flavored grape water they have on tap for losers like me. They should give you a free button to wear with every purchase that says 'I can afford the good stuff' – so everyone knows you have no student loan debt. All of this is meant to help airlines and credit-card companies maximize profits for their avaricious stockholders. They will charge an exorbitant amount of money for well-heeled passengers to, say, get their feet rubbed by a nude stranger, but if you can't afford such a luxury at the airport, you can get naked and rub a guy's feet for free. An airport is now like the condo building from JG Ballard's novel High-Rise, where our ossified class system manifests itself in a massive concrete structure that divides us based on income and accident of birth. The lower floors are occupied by tradespeople, the middle floors by artists and educated strivers. The top floor is reserved for the truly wealthy and the landed gentry, who sneer at the lower floors and expect fealty. The airport is similarly stratified. It's not just one lounge per airline. Now, the mind-bogglingly decadent Delta One Lounge sits near the decidedly middle-class Delta SkyClub, where the food consists not of caviar or succulent roast pork, but a melange of vaguely local fare (at Detroit's SkyClub, I recently turned my nose up at the wettest casserole I've ever seen, paired with a white dinner roll smothered in glistening butter, which I assume is a midwestern delicacy with a funny name like 'Gristlepassage'). The SkyClub is an attainable simulacrum of luxury, with free magazines and a hot chocolate bar. These middlebrow lounges are routinely overcrowded, because the barrier to entry is lower. In the Delta One Lounge, which I cannot afford, I assume the exclusivity means that more often than not, it's just you and a manservant named Longbottom whose only job is to carry your bags to and from the lavatory. The Delta One lounge is like a beacon of contentment (or an obnoxious tease, depending on how jet-lagged I am) when I walk past. I turn into Oliver Twist at the sight of a Delta One Lounge, begging for a crumb of lobster before my connection to Salt Lake City. I know envy in a way that makes me feel like a child deprived of screen time on a long drive to Yosemite national park. Surely this sort of class cold war can't sustain itself forever. In High-Rise, conditions in the building deteriorate – elevators stop working, trash chutes clog, and electricity fails regularly. As the physical structure falls into disarray, so does the citizen population. There are riots, assaults, murders and the eating of a dog. I could see this happening at Los Angeles international airport (LAX) if the Buffalo Wild Wings runs out of honey mustard – throngs of unwashed masses re-enacting January 6 on the unsuspecting patrons of the Virgin Atlantic Clubhouse. All for a spot of caviar. You might be wondering, though: is the food as good as the New York Times claims? Is it actually worth setting fire to a public place for a taste? In short, yes. Also, no. You see, the airport lounge is only as good as the food outside it is bad. It's a microcosm of how our class system perpetuates itself. As things grow more dire for the lower class, the middle class is driven to consume even more, as a signal to the world that they are, in fact, better. The deeper the hole gets beneath you, the more desperate you are to climb out. I am so eager to avoid having to swallow a limp hoagie at the LAX Jersey Mike's that I will spend money I shouldn't for the privilege of a slightly firmer sandwich in an airport lounge. Is the food demonstrably better at the Centurion Lounge at Heathrow than it is in the main concourse? No – it all probably gets squirted out at the same sludge factory. But it makes me feel special, because someone is being paid minimum wage to take my plate when I'm done eating. While half-asleep, dehydrated and full of flight-related anxiety, I can't even tell the difference between good and bad, right or wrong, fabulous or fetid. I am a yawning cavern of need, hoping to be filled up with whatever greasy carbs I can find. I had a perfectly adequate chicken tinga at the LAX SkyClub recently, which satisfied me until I woke up in a cold sweat over the Atlantic Ocean nine hours later. I likely would have responded to it more negatively if I had eaten it out of a paper cup next to a Hudson News while a dog in a gym bag silently farted a few feet away. Airlines, like every other big business, have figured out that the packaging is more important than the product. It's about the emotional response people have to what you're selling. The lords and ladies on the top floor of the metaphorical high-rise of our society have deigned to offer up a Disneyland re-creation of civilization, where we are treated with dignity rather than herded like lemmings over a cliff made of rubbery chicken. As was once said: 'Let them eat cake (as long as they have a Chase Sapphire Rewards card).'

Airport lounges cement the class system. And the food's not even that good
Airport lounges cement the class system. And the food's not even that good

The Guardian

time4 hours ago

  • The Guardian

Airport lounges cement the class system. And the food's not even that good

Summer, I've been told, is travel season. From about May to August, we're all meant to be flinging cash at airlines, hotels, overpriced restaurants with watered-down Aperol spritzes, and whatever new wonder drug is supposed to make our bodies moderately palatable for display at the beach. The social pressure to go somewhere (anywhere) during summer has only gotten more pervasive since social media began its clumsy, knifepoint home invasion into our brains. Our Instagram and TikTok accounts are just free advertising for the travel industry. 'Gosh, Spain looks nice. But maybe Mexico City is more chic these days?' It doesn't matter where you go, as long as you go. Travel seems more socially necessary than ever, even while the toll it takes on the environment gets heavier and the prospects of being allowed back home get grimmer. Travel is not healthy for the planet, and it's not healthy for your mental state. But, according to the New York Times, it is delicious. Airport lounges across the world are investing in better food, fancier accommodations and other perks like 'being left alone' and 'a functional shower'. You can have access to posh hideaways like the Delta One Lounge or the American Express Centurion Lounge for a price (either credit card fees or a long, expensive flight to a place you don't necessarily want to go). Awaiting you are opulent buffets with food from celebrity chefs such as José Andres and Kwame Onwuachi, and open bars with elaborate cocktails on offer. Most things in these lounges are free, but there are always extras for those who are truly irresponsible with their money. The Delta One Lounge at New York's John F Kennedy airport offers dollops of caviar for $85. At most of these places, you can get actual champagne, rather than the bathtub-flavored grape water they have on tap for losers like me. They should give you a free button to wear with every purchase that says 'I can afford the good stuff' – so everyone knows you have no student loan debt. All of this is meant to help airlines and credit-card companies maximize profits for their avaricious stockholders. They will charge an exorbitant amount of money for well-heeled passengers to, say, get their feet rubbed by a nude stranger, but if you can't afford such a luxury at the airport, you can get naked and rub a guy's feet for free. An airport is now like the condo building from JG Ballard's novel High-Rise, where our ossified class system manifests itself in a massive concrete structure that divides us based on income and accident of birth. The lower floors are occupied by tradespeople, the middle floors by artists and educated strivers. The top floor is reserved for the truly wealthy and the landed gentry, who sneer at the lower floors and expect fealty. The airport is similarly stratified. It's not just one lounge per airline. Now, the mind-bogglingly decadent Delta One Lounge sits near the decidedly middle-class Delta SkyClub, where the food consists not of caviar or succulent roast pork, but a melange of vaguely local fare (at Detroit's SkyClub, I recently turned my nose up at the wettest casserole I've ever seen, paired with a white dinner roll smothered in glistening butter, which I assume is a midwestern delicacy with a funny name like 'Gristlepassage'). The SkyClub is an attainable simulacrum of luxury, with free magazines and a hot chocolate bar. These middlebrow lounges are routinely overcrowded, because the barrier to entry is lower. In the Delta One Lounge, which I cannot afford, I assume the exclusivity means that more often than not, it's just you and a manservant named Longbottom whose only job is to carry your bags to and from the lavatory. The Delta One lounge is like a beacon of contentment (or an obnoxious tease, depending on how jet-lagged I am) when I walk past. I turn into Oliver Twist at the sight of a Delta One Lounge, begging for a crumb of lobster before my connection to Salt Lake City. I know envy in a way that makes me feel like a child deprived of screen time on a long drive to Yosemite national park. Surely this sort of class cold war can't sustain itself forever. In High-Rise, conditions in the building deteriorate – elevators stop working, trash chutes clog, and electricity fails regularly. As the physical structure falls into disarray, so does the citizen population. There are riots, assaults, murders and the eating of a dog. I could see this happening at Los Angeles international airport (LAX) if the Buffalo Wild Wings runs out of honey mustard – throngs of unwashed masses re-enacting January 6 on the unsuspecting patrons of the Virgin Atlantic Clubhouse. All for a spot of caviar. You might be wondering, though: is the food as good as the New York Times claims? Is it actually worth setting fire to a public place for a taste? In short, yes. Also, no. You see, the airport lounge is only as good as the food outside it is bad. It's a microcosm of how our class system perpetuates itself. As things grow more dire for the lower class, the middle class is driven to consume even more, as a signal to the world that they are, in fact, better. The deeper the hole gets beneath you, the more desperate you are to climb out. I am so eager to avoid having to swallow a limp hoagie at the LAX Jersey Mike's that I will spend money I shouldn't for the privilege of a slightly firmer sandwich in an airport lounge. Is the food demonstrably better at the Centurion Lounge at Heathrow than it is in the main concourse? No – it all probably gets squirted out at the same sludge factory. But it makes me feel special, because someone is being paid minimum wage to take my plate when I'm done eating. While half-asleep, dehydrated and full of flight-related anxiety, I can't even tell the difference between good and bad, right or wrong, fabulous or fetid. I am a yawning cavern of need, hoping to be filled up with whatever greasy carbs I can find. I had a perfectly adequate chicken tinga at the LAX SkyClub recently, which satisfied me until I woke up in a cold sweat over the Atlantic Ocean nine hours later. I likely would have responded to it more negatively if I had eaten it out of a paper cup next to a Hudson News while a dog in a gym bag silently farted a few feet away. Airlines, like every other big business, have figured out that the packaging is more important than the product. It's about the emotional response people have to what you're selling. The lords and ladies on the top floor of the metaphorical high-rise of our society have deigned to offer up a Disneyland re-creation of civilization, where we are treated with dignity rather than herded like lemmings over a cliff made of rubbery chicken. As was once said: 'Let them eat cake (as long as they have a Chase Sapphire Rewards card).'

Prime Video is losing one of the best Tom Hiddleston movies you (probably) haven't watched — and it's a gripping sci-fi thriller
Prime Video is losing one of the best Tom Hiddleston movies you (probably) haven't watched — and it's a gripping sci-fi thriller

Tom's Guide

time22-06-2025

  • Entertainment
  • Tom's Guide

Prime Video is losing one of the best Tom Hiddleston movies you (probably) haven't watched — and it's a gripping sci-fi thriller

There are some movies you watch once and forget. And then there are movies like 'High-Rise' that cling to your brain like static, even if you're not entirely sure what you just watched. I stumbled across it on Prime Video a few months back, not expecting much beyond 'Tom Hiddleston flexing his impressive acting skills in a suit.' But what I got instead was something far stranger, darker, and weirder than I'd anticipated. The kind of movie where you sit there afterward, slightly disturbed, but also in awe. Directed by Ben Wheatley and based on the novel by J.G. Ballard, 'High-Rise' is one of those movies that's basically begging to be discovered, or rewatched with a better understanding of what the hell is going on. It didn't make a huge splash when it first came out in 2016, and honestly, I don't hear people bring it up often when talking about Hiddleston's work. But they should. Unfortunately, Prime Video is removing 'High-Rise' from its streaming library on June 28, which means you only have a short window left to watch this gripping sci-fi thriller before it disappears. If you're into stylishly unhinged movies with striking visuals, big performances, and just the right amount of chaos, 'High-Rise' is one you don't want to miss. 'High-Rise' follows Dr. Robert Laing (Tom Hiddleston), a reserved and well-mannered man who moves into a luxurious high-rise tower on the outskirts of London. The building is a marvel of modern architecture, offering its residents everything they could possibly need: a supermarket, gym, swimming pool, and even a school, eliminating the need to ever leave. Laing quickly settles into his sleek new apartment and begins to meet his neighbors, including the charismatic documentarian Richard Wilder (Luke Evans) and the building's mysterious architect, Anthony Royal (Jeremy Irons), who lives in the penthouse. At first, the building feels like a self-contained paradise, but tensions soon begin to surface between floors. Small inconveniences like power outages, elevator malfunctions, and disputes over amenities start to expose fractures in the social dynamic. As time passes, these irritations escalate into open conflict, with residents dividing themselves by floor and growing increasingly tribal. The building begins to descend into chaos: parties turn violent, hallways become battlegrounds, and order completely unravels. To be honest, the first twenty minutes of 'High-Rise' left me a bit confused, and I wasn't sure if I'd enjoy it. But once the story started to come together, it turned into a mind-bending thrill ride that both fascinated me and had me scanning for the building's emergency exits, since it felt surprisingly claustrophobic (which is kind of the whole point). Starting off with a bizarre barbecue scene and moving into an unsettling medical lesson, this movie is definitely not for those easily shaken (or dog lovers). It's a beautifully crafted descent into chaos. Inside the cold, concrete walls of a towering high-rise, the movie unfolds like a social experiment brought to life, showing what happens when people are cut off from the outside world. It explores how the mind unravels when trapped and how quickly ethics fall apart when social classes are pushed to their breaking point. The building is home to a mix of upper-middle-class residents like filmmakers and orthodontists, along with wealthier elites such as celebrities and socialites. They're separated by which floor they live on and even their parking spots. These two groups don't really want to mingle, but at first, they're not exactly enemies either. After all, no matter how high or low their apartment is, everyone's supposed to have access to the same amenities. During a casual visit, Royal tells Laing that the building is 'settling,' so occasional power cuts and water outages are to be expected. That sounds reasonable at first, until it becomes clear that these problems mostly hit the lower floors, not the higher ones. This is, of course, where things start to fall apart. The whole concept of 'High-Rise' is genuinely interesting, and once things start to spiral, it's hard to look away. When the madness does take over, the movie becomes even more of a visual treat, while the Kubrick-like camera movement and carefully framed shots make everything feel deliberately unsettling. Filmed mostly in Bangor, Northern Ireland, you can't help but admire the overall look of this movie. Hiddleston is the perfect anchor for 'High-Rise,' given his calm energy that somehow makes his character feel completely at home in all the chaos. And it's a shame that this movie is probably one of his most overlooked roles. In fact, this movie is overlooked in the thriller genre, period. If you're into unusual stories and great visuals, 'High-Rise' might pull you in. It's a strange one, for sure, but its unique style and odd details could really grow on you, and I certainly found myself more intrigued the deeper I got into the story (even if it's a little confusing with no real narrative drive). Over on Rotten Tomatoes, it has a critics rating of 60%, with audiences giving it a very low score of 38% (a little harsh, in my opinion). The site's critics consensus reads: 'High-Rise may not quite live up to its classic source material, but it still offers an energetic, well-acted, and thought-provoking take on its timely socioeconomic themes.' This is a statement I can agree with. 'High-Rise' is in no means an excellent movie, given its narrative flaws, but it's still a good one. And it's worth streaming on Prime Video before it leaves on June 28. If you're not convinced, you can see what got added to the streamer this month.

Lawrence Lek Unpacks the Emotional Fallout of Tech-Powered Futures in 'NOX High-Rise'
Lawrence Lek Unpacks the Emotional Fallout of Tech-Powered Futures in 'NOX High-Rise'

Hypebeast

time29-05-2025

  • Entertainment
  • Hypebeast

Lawrence Lek Unpacks the Emotional Fallout of Tech-Powered Futures in 'NOX High-Rise'

Next month, theHammer Museumin Los Angeles will debutNOX High-Rise, an immersive installation by London-based artistLawrence Lek. Unfolding across multiple galleries, the exhibition fuses video, sound and sculptural elements to explore the evolving role of artificial intelligence in contemporary urban life, raising urgent questions about agency, empathy and the ethics of living alongside sentient technology. The installation revolves around NOX — short for 'Nonhuman Excellence' — a fictional clinical facility run by tech giant Farsight Corporation, that aid autonomous vehicles after they start exhibiting signs emotional instability. Mirroring the mental health troubles of humans, the cars undergo therapeutic treatment before returning to their jobs on the streets. This latest iteration ofNOX High-Risebuilds on the 2023 presentation ofNOXat LAS Art Foundation in Berlin, which introduced the first chapter of his Sinofuturist universe. Blending lush soundscapes and sci-fi mythos, Lek's imagined clinic serves as a metaphor navigating the moral complexities of artificial consciousness. Through a mix of game design, cinematic storytelling and speculative architecture, the artists constructs layered digital worlds that interrogate the politics of automation and the social futures we're hurtling toward. In addition toNOX High-Rise, on view from June 28 through November 16, Lek will also present films from 'Smart City,' the series that laid the conceptual groundwork forNOX, on June 29. Head to the museum'swebsitefor more information on the exhibition and additional programming. Hammer Museum10899 Wilshire Blvd,Los Angeles, CA 90024

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