Do you remember your first kiss? Or the thrill you got from doing something a little naughty when the grownups weren’t watching? Or the rush you received from your first roller-coaster ride? Of course you do.
It may have happened a long time ago, and it was over in seconds, but you’ll never forget it. And every time you remember it, it makes you feel happy and good about yourself.
That’s the thing about special and precious moments; the memory far outlives the experience itself, and it’s affirming. It tells you a little something about who you were, who you are and who you could be.
Sure, maybe the marriage broke up, or you ended up spending a night in the police cells, or you vomited for the rest of the day. But none of that takes away the moment of exquisite pleasure.
What am I writing about this on a travel blog? Because this is a rejoinder to this article on GQ Australia, which says you should never fly business- or first-class at your own expense.
Read the article and you will realise that the author is right — but only on a practical level. His arguments make sense in the same way a “Wet paint” sign makes sense to a small child. They understand the words, but they want to have the experience of ignoring them anyway.
Since the GQ article has a Christmas theme, I’ll simply say: don’t listen to Scrooge. If you want to fly up the pointy end of the plane and you’re prepared to pay for it, just do it!
After all, in years to come you won’t be savouring the memory of that time you spent 24 hours stuck in the 14-inch-wide middle seat between a fat bloke (like me) and somebody with a deodorant aversion, with the tray table pressing against your midriff because the person in front has their seat on full tilt, your entertainment system was broken and you were desperate to go to the toilet.