The other day I made a shocking discovery. I had always fancied myself as a first-class sort of girl. Someone who would be at home amongst the swank and swarve, the perks that first-class travel brings. Seats that lie flat like a bed, for instance. The ability to move about the cabin at whim.

To my horror, I have realised that I am not at home with those perks. In fact, I'm not sure I ever want to travel first-class again.

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