Family Day at the US Open.

Priority is a fab family which I fortunately possess.

This particular excursion requires comfortable shoes, sunscreen, patience and a willingness to pay the equivalent of a small mortgage payment for meals.

Flushing Meadows was buzzing last week.Thousands of people streamed through the grounds in tennis whites, designer sunglasses and expensive athletic clothing that suggested they had never actually perspired in it.

Balls flew at terrifying speeds, crowds roared and ample souvenir cocktails appeared to have become the official form of hydration.

I had previously lived at the Open for many weeks for over a decade, serving as On Air Booth Manager for various networks including CBS, NBC, TBS and ESPN

I navigated the US Open with VIP credentials and was convinced this is how you were always meant to live. I admit that I missed it. Once you have experienced the velvet rope, returning to the general population requires a small emotional adjustment.

This time, however, there were no obligations, schedules, talent demands, 8am arrival and 3am departure or hands to shake.

We could wander the grounds, watch matches on the smaller courts and debate which players we liked based on talent, temperament and, occasionally, their outfits.

Watching professional tennis up close is humbling. On television, the game appears graceful and civilized. In person, the ball travels like an incoming missile. The players sprint, slide, grunt and return shots that would send most of us directly to an orthopedist.

Naturally, within twenty minutes, we had all become tennis experts.

He needs to come to the net.

She’s playing too defensively.

That second serve is vulnerable.

Follow through.

None of us could return one of those serves if our lives depended upon it, but this did not prevent us from offering strategic advice from several rows away.

Between matches, we ate, wandered and attempted to remain together in crowds capable of separating a family faster than politics at Thanksgiving.

Then there was the food. At US Open prices, one assumes every hamburger has been personally prepared by a Michelin-starred chef and delivered to Flushing Meadows by private jet.

Let us not ignore the long lines to buy $50 caps, $150 sweatshirts and $100 totes.

Yet none of it mattered. We were together, laughing, people-watching and enjoying magnificent tennis without needing to be anywhere except where we were.

By the end of the day, our feet hurt, our wallets were lighter and we were thoroughly exhausted.

It was wonderful.

I may have missed the special entrance and hospitality suite, but I was carefree and surrounded by the people I love.

Perhaps that was the real VIP experience, after all.