Snobs on a plane 

In the past year or so, his children have begun engaging in the same sort of braggadocio. The afflictions of a boastful father have now been duly transmitted to the next generation.
The insistent (and annoying) habit of disseminating news of one’s first-class status is neither new nor unique. Many South Asians are afflicted with the same disease. On any given day, our Twitter or Facebook feeds are likely to be littered with similar “check-ins”. Even more annoying are the “humble brags”: in the case of this particular gentleman, he took to complaining about the poor service in first class, expressing his sympathy for the unfortunate souls in economy who must be having an even tougher time.
The South Asian obsession with first class is mirrored by a disdain for equality.
Finally, someone called him out for it and he was brought to public justice in the very forum he used to demonstrate his pomposity. 
Ridicule can be an effective weapon, but the South Asian adulation of first-class travel is a truly formidable foe. 
The status-hunger is hardly surprising. For thousands of years (and arguably even now), inherited caste determined the opportunities one could access in life.
The hierarchy inherent in that social organisation of superiors and inferiors still flourishes in psyches today. And nothing embodies it quite as starkly as the partitioned-off front section of a jet-liner. Being ushered to a seat in first class is to be separated from the inferior herd in “cattle class” and recognised as their natural superior. Or so the thinking behind the boasting goes.  
This sort of shameless bragging is rare among Westerners. It is not that the Western world lacks conspicuous consumption or status symbols; it is just that this brand of bragging is not attached to a pathology of class and caste.
However it is not just the history of caste that makes South Asians so focused on flaunting their first-class status. Air travel, after all, represents mobility, and mobility is the ability to transcend borders that constrain and constrict. Many of Pakistan’s elite, fat and rich on money usurped or inherited, have a solid sense of entitlement that largely insulates them from the drudgery of having to stand in line, to wait, and generally to cooperate with fellow human beings.
In taking possession of first-class seats (even when they are on a national airline bankrupt in part because it has had to accommodate their free-loading) they not only visibly and literally look down on people walking by into the realm of the commoner, they underscore that limits on the movement of ordinary Pakistanis do not apply to them.
Close behind the wealthy are the almost-wealthy, who by virtue of jobs abroad or with multinational corporations have ascended to first class. This group can be worse, notable only for mimicking the condescension of their wealthier role models. In sitting a few hours on a slightly larger seat, eating a slightly bigger meal, and getting extra servings of juice, they believe they have conquered the world – and they want us all to know it.
Full disclosure: I have never travelled in first class. But the absence of free wine, extra juice or an extra few centimetres has never bothered me. The South Asian obsession with first class is mirrored by a disdain for equality, frugality and avoidance of waste. When the self-worth of a human being is assessed, as it routinely is in Pakistan, by the size of a house, the make of a car, the number of servants and, of course, whether or not one travels first class, the consequence is moral stagnation.
There are many for whom social media is a forum for self-aggrandisement, and first-class air travel provides them an opportunity to indulge. But they would benefit from a few home truths: the world, or more specifically the friends and family who are spectators to their news-feed, are unlikely to be moved to admiration in the way intended. Rather than advertising natural superiority, boasting about first-class travel reveals an insecurity dependant on an airline’s label for self-worth. US “cattle” may have to wait longer, eat a little less and wiggle a bit more to get comfy, but we know we will get wherever we are going at exactly the same time.

Rafia Zakaria is a lawyer teaching constitutional law and political philosophy.