Lonely Planet

GLOBETROTTEROctober 2017 Lonely Planet Traveller 23``````RISE AND SHINEThe world’s largest gatheringof hot-air balloons takes placein the desert skies of New Mexicoon 7–15 October this year.The Albuquerque InternationalBalloon Fiesta is an unmatchedmishmash of colours and shapes,with up to 600 oddities fillingthe horizons at a time(events from £8; balloonfiesta.com).ILLUSTRATION: MUTI- FOLIO ART. PIHOTOGRAPHS: RICHARD MASCHMEYER/AGEFOTOSTOCK/WSUPERSTOCK, STEVE VIDLER/SUPERSTOCK``````The pointy end of the plane may seem like a forbidden oasis ofunparalleled luxury, but the reality can fall somewhat short- and could ruin flying for you forever after.When you’re crammed in economy on a long-haul flight,with your knees around your chin and a five-year-old treatingthe back of your seat like a piñata, the front end of the planeseems like an airborne Shangri-la. A mystical world of peace anddecadence, where champagne flows and passengers recline like Romanemperors, being fed grapes and gently fanned by comely attendants.Unfortunately, for those without a trust fund or a ritzy corporate job, thisworld is off limits, its perimeter ferociously guarded by curtain-swishingstewards. But there is one way in – when fate plucks you from thecheck-in queue and grants you access with that most magical of terms:‘upgrade’. My own transformational experience occurred on a flight fromLondon to Sydney, when I was bumped up to the hallowed preserve ofbusiness class. While it didn’t quite reach the heights of my cattle-classfantasies (no silver platters or foot massages and nary a chocolatefountain in sight) there were scrupulously attentive staff, scoops of realice cream, complimentary pyjamas and, of course, a seat roomy andreclinable enough to banish any memory of hyperactive toddlers.But this taste of luxury came with a price: on my next trip, I had to flyeconomy. Suddenly, the seats seemed narrower, the staff were indefinablysurlier, my neighbour’s annexation of the shared armrest verged on theopenly hostile. I spent hours gazing forward through the crack in thecurtain, a sense of injustice raging through me. ‘I belong in there now,don’t you see?’ I silently cried. Then my senses returned, along with thefeeling in my legs, when I stepped off the plane and into the real world.For all its exclusivity, the front of the plane is not a place of unboundedluxury: if I received one of those meals at a restaurant, I would hardly beraving; if I slept on a bed like that at a hotel, I would not return. In fact,the greatest thing about gaining access to the upper classes lies notin any of its perks. It’s in the knowledge that even if the flight isuncomfortable or tedious, you can rest easy in theknowing that there are hundreds of people having a farworse time of it just a few feet behind you.``````CHRISTA LARWOODis a regular contributor tothe magazine and a seasonedveteran of long-haul flightsSOMETHING TO DECLARE