I don’t fly often, and when I do it’s via the cheapest way possible. Today I was traveling for work, and one of my colleagues had access to the Sky Club. *Disclaimer* my colleague is not included in the description of Sky Club members that follows. For those of you not in the know, Sky Club is for rich people who don’t want to sit in airport hell with the rest of us while waiting for their flight. While we try to locate a comfortable spot in the crowded terminal, one that doesn’t smell or isn’t too close to a man yelling on his cellphone or a screaming child, Sky Club members get to pass through the doors into magical, temperature controlled, lavender-scented paradise where there are plenty of outlets, free WiFi and comfy chairs. While most of us walk in circles trying to find “affordable” food until we finally give up and spend $9 on a PBJ, they have unlimited access to tasty and even marginally nutritious snacks, including but not limited to: hummus and veggies, Nutella and fruit, mixed nuts, pretzels, cheese, coffee, tea, soda, and booze. We shuffle in and out of crowded restrooms and try not to notice when the person in the stall next to us chooses to have a conversation on their phone. You still might encounter the awkward stall conversation in the Sky Club restroom, but the restroom is much cleaner, smells nicer, and has fancier soap. Sounds pretty great, yes? It is, I suppose. But the entire time I was up there I felt pretty out of place. I couldn’t help but gawk at all the “free” accommodations that were offered and think about how excessive the entire thing was. What was more troubling was how most of the people in Sky Club seemed to act like they were entitled to this special treatment. Sure they pay extra for it, but I think for most of them it’s an amount they wouldn’t really miss from their bank account. And really, what is the point? Convenience? Prestige? The longer I sat there the more I thought that Sky Club represented what’s wrong with American society. A small percentage of people have more wealth and resources but insist on keeping themselves separate from others instead of helping others. They’ve earned this money, right? They shouldn’t have to share it or sit with the rest of us in a loud, smelly airport terminal. Well, I disagree. In protest I snagged some extra packets of Nutella and tea to save for later. If I had brought a bigger bag, I would have cleaned them out and dispersed Nutella, apples, mixed nuts, cheese and cookies throughout the Atlanta airport to anyone who looked hungry like a regular Sky Club Robin Hood.