A sign stood in the middle of the open space near the ticket counter. On its left lay a red carpet, neatly lined on its two long sides by dividing ropes. On its right lurked a blank expanse of standard grey airport carpeting. The sign, standing there to warn the masses not to sully the red carpet without authorization, carried two messages. “Elite Customer Boarding” leaned out toward the red carpet, and announced itself in cheery red lettering. On the right side of its divided face, “General Boarding” sat as a grim, grey reproach to those clearly didn’t care about their travel experience and who probably preferred balancing check books or shushing babies in supermarket checkout lines to frolicking on beaches or petting puppies.

“This way lies freedom from bureaucratic lines, suspicious scrutiny of identity, and hoi polloi, particularly those polloi over there with the 5 children, all of whom are hungry and two of whom have colds,” the cheery red letters seemed to say. “We know you’re elite at heart,” the sign crooned, “You care for the finer things, and for puppies, and if you saw a friend in need we know you’d take the time to help them out. You are not chattel. We know this. But until you ask for an upgrade, we can’t release you to the service level you deserve, nay, are entitled to. We’re sure you understand.”

As the moment of boarding approached, waiting passengers got up from their seats, checked for their boarding passes, calculated whether the letter following their row numbers would land them in the dreaded middle seat, and began to hover a respectful distance from the sign. Most hovered just to the right of the sign, not to encroach on the space reserved for the elite among them. No red carpet would ease their transition onto the gangway. No dividing ropes would usher them toward the plane in three feet of segregated splendor.

“We will now begin boarding our elite members,” the gate agent intoned. Everyone looked up expectantly, waiting to see who would be so privileged. Most shuffled even a few feet farther back from the bifurcated sign.

And then it happened. The privileged few stepped out from the crowds and walked carefully past their soon-to-be fellow passengers, past the gate counter, past the grey space that would soon herd the General boarders onto the gangway, and past the sign. Turning 120 degrees to the right, they stepped carefully onto the red carpet, between the dividing ropes, and walked along it diagonally back toward the gate counter to present their elite tickets to the gate agent before boarding the plane.

It was well worth the extra 10 feet of walking.