AL KHOR, Qatar – With its haughty aura of exclusivity, the red-carpeted, velvet-draped VIP entrance at Al Bayt Stadium seems designed to inspire the utmost awe and envy.

As regular fans were ushered through its gates at Friday’s England-USA match, VIP guests were greeted by an exotic figure dressed as some kind of antelope, covered head to toe in shimmering gold plaid.

(When asked for its identity, the figure, who was not to speak, murmured softly: “Oryx”).

But this is the World Cup in Qatar, where there’s something even better than VIP entry: VIP entrance.

Not that it’s available, or even fully visible, to you.

Flanked by barriers and cut off from the normal road network, the entrance to Al Bayt VVIP is a wide thoroughfare where big fans, starting with Emir of Qatar, who arrives by helicopter with his entourage and then boards a Mercedes, are taken directly to his special enclave in the stadium.

That way, they never have to interact with or even occupy the same general space as regular fans.

All sports facilities have their own luxury system:

the owner’s box, the dealing rooms, the special access elevators, the ridiculously expensive and even more ridiculously expensive seats.

But at this year’s World Cup, the convergence of two entities awash in luxuries and rights – Qatar, where all power and privileges derive from the Emir, and FIFA, world football’s governing body, with its vast network of wealth and support – provides an uplifting reminder that there is always a more rarefied degree of exclusivity.

The main difference between the luxury and non-luxury seats at this year’s World Cup is the alcohol.

To the surprise of the fans (and of Budweiser, the tournament’s official beer since 1986), Qatar reversed course and decreed, shortly before the start of the event, a ban on the sale of alcoholic beer (of any kind). alcohol) in and around stadiums.

But that didn’t affect the flow of free beer – or champagne, whisky, gin, wine and other beverages – available to non-regular fans in the VIP, VVIP and hospitality areas.

The rules seem they did not apply to them.

For example, at a $3,000-per-seat hospitality lounge at the Al Bayt during the USA-England game, the bar menu included Taittinger Champagne, Chivas Regal 12 Year Old Whisky, Martell VSOP Brandy and José Cuervo 1800 Tequila.

“If you want to drink, you can’t do it in stadiums,” said Keemya Najmi, who was visiting from Los Angeles with her family.

“So this is much more comfortable.”

Add to this a check-in counter where smiling hosts hand out special passes and gift bags; a cilantro welcome drink, which is a jolt to the system; tables decked out with nuts, dates, popcorn, and potato chips; an endlessly sumptuous buffet featuring dishes such as slow-cooked shoulder of lamb and marinated tuna fillet, along with a carving station and a choice of six desserts; and a band that performs fan-favorite songs from all cultures, like “Sweet Caroline.”

In total there are five levels of “hospitality” in stadiums, according to Match Hospitality, a FIFA partner that manages those sections, starting with the $950 stadium seating that serves street-style food, along with wine and beer.

At the top level are i private suiteswhich cost around $5,000 per person and offer six-course meals prepared by a private chef, cocktails served by sommeliers and mixologists, and the promise of “guest appearancesby unidentified celebrities.

The most exclusive suite is the Pearl Lounge, just above the Lusail Stadium midfield line, which offers each guest a “rare commemorative gift”.

There is also, according to someone who has stayed there, a suite at Al Bayt which, for some reason, has a foldaway bed and a bathroom equipped with a shower.

This World Cup has raised approx 800 million dollars in sales of hospitality seats, a record in the sports industry, according to a spokesperson for Match Hospitality.

But many of those guests paid for the privilege, unlike, apparently, VIPs (or VVIPs).

The taxonomy of VIP status has been a matter of debate among those on the other side of the velvet ropes.

There are several theories.

“The VIPs are the sponsors,” said a woman who, it must be said, works for one of the sponsors and spoke in a hospitality room, not in a VIP suite.

(She is not allowed to speak to the press and has asked that her name not be used.)

No, said a Saudi journalist in the gallery who also asked not to use his name.

“VIPs usually come from business and banking,” he said.

“VVIPs are the Emir and the people around him – his family, his father – and foreign officials.”

Among them would presumably be the crown prince Mohammed bin Salman from Saudi Arabia, who sat next to the Emir during the opening match, as well as Jared Kushner and Ivanka Trumpwhich were seen in a luxury box at the USA game.

There is consensus that senior FIFA officials, such as the president Gianni Infantinoare VVIPs, but that the rest of the FIFA staff and adjacent are simply VIPs.

Meanwhile, a Qatari involved in organizing the logistics of the tournament, who did not want to speak publicly because he was not authorized, said that sometimes there is a excess of VIPs at Qatar events.

In that case, there are so many who end up ascending to the VVIP category that the organizers are forced to create a new level: VVVIPthe human equivalent of a hotel seven stars.

With all this VIP inflation, is it any wonder visitors suffer from status anxiety?

One recent morning, at the plush Fairmont Doha, a tournament magnet for former soccer stars, wealthy businessmen and FIFA greats, officials gathered before the first game of the day.

A high quality security guard was in charge of turning away unwanted visitors.

A member of the FIFA Council, the organization’s board of directors, was pacing the marble floor of the atrium with a mobile phone taped to his right cheek.

He would tell the person on the other end how many (free) tickets he needed for each game.

Another FIFA official handed over already purchased tickets to hotel guests.

The time to leave for the stadium was approaching, and two women dressed in navy blue appeared, with paddles signaling guests to follow:

one for “FIFA VIP”, the other for “FIFA VVIP”.

A few minutes later, a well-dressed couple received their tickets.

The woman peered inside. The news was bad.

“VIP only,” he murmured.

At the entrance, the VIPs were directed towards a fleet of black SUVs that would take them to the match.

VIPs had to take a bus.

c.2022 The New York Times Society