If you are lucky enough to spend time in the YVR executive lounge, hiding away from the great unwashed, you may think that your elevated status owes you a lunch. Certainly, it earns you unlimited access to an open bottle of black label, even to a keg of beer. However, as I recently learned, the lunch is a joke at the expense of good taste. I was horrified by a tasteless soup with the aftertaste of powdered milk and a consistency of wallpaper paste. And I was amused by their “salad bar,” giving you the opportunity to heap seeds, dried cranberries, olives and pickles onto lettuce. Does that a salad make? Maybe, but only a very strange one. This is where you may start noticing that most of the chairs in the lounge have rips in them, and that the crowd really doesn’t seem very elite, in fact they were lining up in droves for a cup of paste and some olive lettuce. So much for executive class.