Above the Skyline: Does Airline Elite Status Mean Anything Anymore?

You know, I’ve been thinking about airline elite status. It used to mean something. You’d see someone board early and think, That person has lived in airports. They’ve earned this. Now I walk into a terminal and it looks like a convention of elites. If everyone’s elite, nobody is.

I was flying back from my holiday recently and stood in the priority line, the priority line. It stretched so far back I thought I’d accidentally joined the line for the restroom. There must have been fifty people ahead of me, all holding gold, platinum, titanium, or some newly invented metal card like it was a passport to a better life. I looked at my own card and wondered why I bothered carrying it. If this is priority, I’d hate to see regular boarding.

Airlines used to treat elite status like a medal of honor. You flew a lot, you suffered through delays, missed birthdays, learned the layout of every airport carpet in North America, and then you were rewarded. Now airlines hand out elite status the way supermarkets hand out loyalty cards. You sign up for a credit card, you get elite status. You click on an airline email by accident, you get elite status. I’m surprised they don’t give it away with a Happy Meal.

Then there’s boarding. Boarding used to be simple: first class, then the rest of us. Now it’s a sociological experiment. “We’d like to invite our Diamond members… our Platinum members… our Gold members… our Silver members…” It goes on so long you start to wonder if they’re going to call people by blood type. By the time they reach general boarding, I expect an announcement for “refugees, peasants, villagers, and anyone traveling with livestock.”

And the lounges, don’t get me started on the lounges. Lounges used to be quiet. You could sit down, read a newspaper, maybe have a drink without bumping elbows. Now they’re louder than the terminal. Kids running around, no seats, and food that looks like it was designed by a committee that has never eaten. Everyone got in because their credit card company told them they were “special.” Apparently, we’re all special now.

I suppose airlines think if everyone feels elite, nobody will notice they’re all getting the same tiny bag of pretzels and the same middle seat. Maybe that’s the plan. Call it elite, make it sound exclusive, and hope no one looks too closely.

But here’s the thing: when elite status is everywhere, it stops being special. It becomes just another line to stand in. And if that’s the case, they might as well give me a card too, preferably one made of unobtanium, so I can wait in the long priority line with everyone else and pretend, along with the rest of the terminal, that I’m important.

Above the Skyline by Aram Gesar
Observations on how we travel now—and why it feels the way it does.

Above the Skyline is a reimagining of the Skyline Editorial previously published in AirGuide Destinations (formerly Frequent Flyer Destinations) magazine. It offers a measured look at how modern travel actually feels. Aram Gesar observes the small frictions, unspoken rules, and design choices that shape journeys in the air and on the ground—often unnoticed, occasionally absurd, and always familiar.