Some of you CEOs and millionaires out there might be used to this treatment, but my VIP experience at the Beijing airport was so far one of the most outstanding parts of the past week in China. (Yes, the jellyfish and pig stomach on the menu are intriguing, but this was a real event.) After my three days working with the USOC in Beijing, I flew alone to meet the U.S. Olympic Sailing Team in Qingdao. After arriving at the brand new and impressive Terminal Three, it took quite a few minutes to communicate that I was going to Terminal Two, another 10-minute cab ride away. Having arrived at the correct, less glamorous terminal, I was greeted by security lines extending onto the sidewalk and flanked by travelers happy to cut me in line. Having finally made my way to the ticket counter I was told I had to go to the special Olympic check-in counter. By that point I just said, “No really, I don’t care. It’s ok,” but I was ushered to the Olympic lane, and that’s where the magic began.
Contrasting this newfound VIP courtesy to the morning’s beleaguering, seemingly competitive act of waiting in line, I was especially appreciative of what seemed like the overly compensatory care. I was first greeted by a man who took my bags to be checked. I stood by, not yet comfortable with the fanfare, as he plastered my bags in fragile stickers, a VIP label and extra tracking tags. This man escorted me to my second security line and I got to cut the whole thing. (Take that, those of you who had cut me on the way in!) At the back end of security I was met by another escort, who I assumed was taking me to my gate... No. This time I was led to China Eastern’s first class lounge, where I sat by the window for 45 minutes reading my book and still wondering if this treatment was quite appropriate for little old me. As my departure time neared, I watched as travelers ate the typical “dinner-for-breakfast” buffet fare, but was too comfortable, or too hot, or maybe too lazy, to go check out the options.
My flight was announced and as I headed to my gate with about ten Qingdao-bound businessmen, I was chased down by another attendant, who steered me away from my gate. At this point I was still confused, but becoming amused and excited to see where they would take me next. This was perfect timing to wrap my head around being a VIP, and by this next step I was enjoying the ordeal that had at first made me a bit uneasy. As I was brought to gate 49, when my gate was 41, I wondered what was going on but had learned to rest and trust the system. I walked outside at the ground level and was met by a gold bus, complete with leather captain chairs, “VIP” painted on the outside and a lush, new-car smell inside. That’s when I indulged my inner VIP and got excited; this was better than a red carpet. I’m sure my eyes lit up and it’s very possible my jaw dropped for an unconscious second. With only me as a passenger, we drove away from the gate. Coming to an intersection with the runway, we gave way to a plane and graciously let it cross our VIP path. We then met the plane and I was unloaded to join the laypeople headed on the unidentifiably funky-smelling plane to Qingdao. What amazes me most is that there were no walkie-talkies or radios employed in this procedure. How did they know?
Upon arrival I was met by one more escort. Once we got to baggage claim, eight (not even kidding) Oly
mpic-uniformed greeters met me with my bags and a fan as a welcome gift. Two of them drove me to the Olympic sailing venue and thanks to their help here I am. Now that I’m in the Olympic Village in Qingdao, I’d like to say I’m back down to the real world, but it’s still pretty amazing here. Unlike the dorm-style Beijing Village (which I visited last week), the Qingdao village is slated to become an InterContinental Hotel. The lobby (left) is full of crystal ball lounges, fountains, sculptures, a traditional Chinese band, and of course, Olympians.
It’s an honor to be here and everyone knows that. The people here exude a sort of reverence reserved for something truly special. As the first gun of the first race approaches, we spend this time getting used to the feeling of being at the Olympic Games, and from what I can tell, we like it – a lot.
Contrasting this newfound VIP courtesy to the morning’s beleaguering, seemingly competitive act of waiting in line, I was especially appreciative of what seemed like the overly compensatory care. I was first greeted by a man who took my bags to be checked. I stood by, not yet comfortable with the fanfare, as he plastered my bags in fragile stickers, a VIP label and extra tracking tags. This man escorted me to my second security line and I got to cut the whole thing. (Take that, those of you who had cut me on the way in!) At the back end of security I was met by another escort, who I assumed was taking me to my gate... No. This time I was led to China Eastern’s first class lounge, where I sat by the window for 45 minutes reading my book and still wondering if this treatment was quite appropriate for little old me. As my departure time neared, I watched as travelers ate the typical “dinner-for-breakfast” buffet fare, but was too comfortable, or too hot, or maybe too lazy, to go check out the options.
My flight was announced and as I headed to my gate with about ten Qingdao-bound businessmen, I was chased down by another attendant, who steered me away from my gate. At this point I was still confused, but becoming amused and excited to see where they would take me next. This was perfect timing to wrap my head around being a VIP, and by this next step I was enjoying the ordeal that had at first made me a bit uneasy. As I was brought to gate 49, when my gate was 41, I wondered what was going on but had learned to rest and trust the system. I walked outside at the ground level and was met by a gold bus, complete with leather captain chairs, “VIP” painted on the outside and a lush, new-car smell inside. That’s when I indulged my inner VIP and got excited; this was better than a red carpet. I’m sure my eyes lit up and it’s very possible my jaw dropped for an unconscious second. With only me as a passenger, we drove away from the gate. Coming to an intersection with the runway, we gave way to a plane and graciously let it cross our VIP path. We then met the plane and I was unloaded to join the laypeople headed on the unidentifiably funky-smelling plane to Qingdao. What amazes me most is that there were no walkie-talkies or radios employed in this procedure. How did they know?
Upon arrival I was met by one more escort. Once we got to baggage claim, eight (not even kidding) Oly
mpic-uniformed greeters met me with my bags and a fan as a welcome gift. Two of them drove me to the Olympic sailing venue and thanks to their help here I am. Now that I’m in the Olympic Village in Qingdao, I’d like to say I’m back down to the real world, but it’s still pretty amazing here. Unlike the dorm-style Beijing Village (which I visited last week), the Qingdao village is slated to become an InterContinental Hotel. The lobby (left) is full of crystal ball lounges, fountains, sculptures, a traditional Chinese band, and of course, Olympians.It’s an honor to be here and everyone knows that. The people here exude a sort of reverence reserved for something truly special. As the first gun of the first race approaches, we spend this time getting used to the feeling of being at the Olympic Games, and from what I can tell, we like it – a lot.
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