First Class Life

We flew internationally for free this month. Well, not exactly for free. It was Dave's reward for already flying internationally several times. But then something pretty amazing happened. On the way back to Mexico City, we got a free first-class upgrade. I've seen people sitting in first class before, and I've even got to sit there for a few short flights. better food. more room. kinda nice. This was amazing - the seats reclined to a nearly flat bed, each seat came with it's own personal entertainment center, there was plenty of space to walk around and spread our legs. Very amazing.
So amazing in fact, that I started to wonder. What makes someone comfortable in a first class seat? in a first-class life? how many upgrades would I need before I started to believe that I truly needed one? how many flights before coach seats seemed like a completely different world? how often would I have to fly first class before I started ignoring or forgetting the other hundreds of passengers on this plane crammed in like sardines?
Two days after our amazing trip, while I uploaded pictures to dropshots and emailed friends and family and started planning a scrapbook and arranged new souveniers on the shelves, our housekeeper was quietly washing our clothes from our trip.
So I started to wonder again.
Why am I still uncomfortable being in the house while she does her job? The job gets done, and we still pay her, whether I"m there watching her or not. How many days would I have to sit on the couch, enjoying my life, watching someone else throw out my trash and wash my dishes and fold my clothes before I started to believe that I truly could not do those things on my own? When would I start ignoring or forgetting the other people who had to clean someone else's house in order to afford their own?
This week I'm traveling with Dave on a business trip. When he travels, his company pays for the best: comfortable travel arrangements, 4-star hotels, first-class food. His Mexican co-workers have to drive a small car that doesn't meet US safety regulations. stay in a hotel 5 km outside of town. wait 20 minutes for special recipts or they won't get repaid for their 2-taco dinner.
I think, in the end, I'm glad that I am uncomfortable sitting in first class. I'm thankful that I still leave when the housekeeper is coming. I'm proud that Dave signs out a nicer car for his co-workers to drive.
If first-class becomes too comfortable, it just might get too lonely there at the top.