Don’t pack your bags yet. But serious people in the aerospace and travel industry are taking the idea of space tourism seriously. Pundits predict that the first space tourists could be in orbit by 2005. Tourists would travel by “space plane” to “space hotels” 200 to 300 miles (320 to 480 kilometers) above Earth. NASA’s Space Shuttle is capable of flying 60 to 70 passengers on each flight. In fact this was envisaged by Rockwell engineers in the design of the Shuttle 25 years ago.

There seems to be plenty of interest from armchair astronauts. More than 40 percent of Americans yearn for an “out of this world” vacation, according to the 1997 Yesawich, Pepperdine & Brown/Yankelovitch Partners National Leisure Travel Monitor, based on in-depth interviews with 1,500 U.S. households.

Forty-two percent of those surveyed say they are interested in a space cruise that would offer amenities similar to an ocean-going cruise ship while 34 percent specifically say they would be interested in a two-week vacation aboard the Space Shuttle and be willing to spend (on average) $10,800 for the trip. Aviation Week & Space Technology magazine recently reported similar surveys in Japan, Canada, Germany and the United States that found “an enormous unsatisfied desire among the general public to travel in space.”

“Space travel is about 10 to 15 years away if NASA and the private sector develop the necessary research and technology,” says George Diller, NASA spokesman at the Kennedy Space Center at Cape Canaveral, Florida. “I think you’ll see commercial initiatives, but it’ll be pricey. Ten thousand dollars won’t get you to the launch pad. You’d probably be looking at something closer to $50,000 for a trip lasting an hour, allowing the passenger to experience weightlessness for about 15 minutes.”

For space flights alone, Bob Citron, a former aerospace executive and director of the Foundation for the Future in Bellevue, Washington (an organization dedicated to scholarly research on life during the next millennium), speculates that $3 billion to $5 billion would be needed to buy 24 to 45 space tourist vehicles, four or five launch sites and staffing for 1,000 to 2,000 flights a year with ticket prices of up to $50,000. “A Space Shuttle vacation is certainly real in terms of consumer interest,” says Dennis Marzella, senior vice president at Yesawich, Pepperdine & Brown. “The technology is there, but it needs to be adapted to accommodate tourists — comfortable seats and big windows.”

Patrick Collins of the University of Tokyo and the Japanese Rocket Society, speaking at the International Symposium on Space Tourism in Bremen, Germany, last March, estimates the development of a reusable, vertical takeoff and landing rocket for passengers would cost $10 billion and take six to seven years. “We need a lot of windows and we need bars, and the Japanese need a karaoke bar,” Collins says. “A gym with padded walls for zero-gravity sports would be a really fun place.”

The space plane designs may draw on the experience of “Hotol,” a pilot project of British Aerospace and Rolls-Royce a decade ago. Hotol was to have been a 50-to-60-passenger plane that would take off from conventional airports. After accelerating through Mach 5 to 80,000 feet, the plane would leave the atmosphere, continue to accelerate and become a satellite itself after reaching 250,000 feet — about four times the cruising altitude of Concorde — and an orbital velocity of Mach 25 to 30. Maximum flying time, ground to ground, to anywhere in the world would be about 70 minutes. Unlike the Space Shuttle, such a space plane would need no external fuel tanks and would re-enter the atmosphere and land under its own power. A space plane would be ideal for picking up and delivering tourists to a space resort en route.

Space Islands Project has an intriguing scenario for a space resort hotel based on a “20-year-old Rockwell idea” for joining up a dozen or so of the Space Shuttle’s empty external fuel tanks into a wheel-shaped space station. Each external tank measuring 28 feet in diameter and 154 feet long (a tad shorter than a 747 fuselage and walls four times thicker than those of the Mir space station) would be divided into three decks. The space station could accommodate 300 people in “cruise-ship conditions.”

‘The external tanks would be joined up end to end in the form of a ring with two more tanks joined up passing through the center like an axle through a wheel, like the orbiting Hilton in the 1969 movie, “2001: A Space Odyssey,” says Gene Meyers, director of Space Islands Project, “a loosely knit group of engineers, educators and architects,” in West Covina, California. “The station would take about an hour and a half to make a complete orbit of the Earth, but the ring itself would be spinning like a roulette wheel at about one revolution a minute thus developing artificial gravity. People would live in the outer ring where they would experience about half of normal gravity — they’d just be half their normal weight — so they could use bathroom facilities and suchlike at pretty well normal conditions. The central column section would be zero gravity. This could be the entertainment and recreation center, which guests could visit for an hour or so at a time. You’d have windows in the central column to view the Earth.

“There are lots of entertainment possibilities at zero gravity. Astronauts have found that blood that is normally drawn down to your legs is sort of released and drifts upwards. Astronauts’ legs become thinner, their chests expand by two to three inches, their faces fill out and wrinkles disappear. Shots of men in their forties before launch and an hour after launch look like father and son. Shannon Lucid, a 53-year-old American astronaut in the Russian space station last year, said she looked 20 years younger in space.”

Meyers and his group are looking to corporate sponsorship to meet the $10 billion to $15 billion cost of building the first space station. “You’d need about 16 of these external tanks. If we can get companies like Coca-Cola and General Motors to sponsor them for $500 million each, you’d cover big chunks of your costs for the first station; the second station would cost roughly half as much, and the third and fourth stations would be about 10 to 15 percent less.

“Space Islands Project is privately funded right now. We’ve budgeted $20 million for this first push to bring in some of the larger sponsors. The payback for them will be enormous. Coca-Cola, for example, spends $8 billion a year on marketing. So we’ve suggested that if they were to pay the cost of a shuttle launch — $400 million to $500 million — they could have the external tank painted white with their logo splashed all over it. This would give them two to three years of broad international exposure. We’re talking to Carnival Cruises, Hilton Hotels, Universal Studios, Radisson Hotels and Disney to support the project.”

‘The Frequent Traveler’ International Herald Tribune: Published: FRIDAY, JULY 18, 1997

Ralph Waldo Emerson’s counsel 150 years ago that ‘No man should travel until he has learned the language of the country he visits’ is reflected in the boom in language learning for business travelers. The key to success, we are told, is to do business in the other person’s language.

But unless you can really cope in that language, it’s usually best to save it for social chat. A little learning is a dangerous thing (although a few gracious phrases in, say, Chinese, Arabic and Russian, are always appreciated.) English, of course, is now accepted as a lingua franca for business travelers in most parts of the world. But forcing people to speak it when they’re not completely fluent can lead to serious misunderstanding.

There was the case of a former German chancellor who was presented to the Queen during a visit to London. He had brushed up his English for the occasion. But when he was introduced to her he said, ‘Who are you?’ instead of, ‘How are you?’ She replied, ‘I am the Queen of England.’ That’s supposed to be a true story.

A good compromise is for both parties to speak their own language, which may bring a dialectical if not an entirely cultural, meeting of minds. Although it may be worth remembering the old German adage that you should sell in the other language and buy in your own. A variation, perhaps, of the maxim ‘Dress British, think Yiddish.’

For most people this means speaking through interpreters.  But the ability to work well with one is a technique, a skill in itself. You have to make sure that your message is received in a cultural as well as a linguistic sense.

You have to be very careful about using humor on formal occasions. If you make an after-dinner speech in the UK, you’re heavily criticized if you don’t make a joke; in France you’ll be criticized if you do. They’ll say, he’s a clown, he’s a lightweight. The British self-mocking humor is not understood.

It can be quite disconcerting with simultaneous interpretation. You make a witty remark and those people listening in English laugh; then the French and Italians laugh; then there’s a pause because the Dutch and Germans are waiting for the verb at the end of the sentence before they get it. Meanwhile, you’re saying, ‘yes, but to be serious I must make an important point.’ At which point the Germans and Dutch burst out laughing.

The Japanese seem to have found a face-saving solution to this contingency. The story goes of the Japanese interpreter who said: ‘The British gentleman has now started telling a joke. When he stops speaking, please laugh and clap loudly – or I’ll be in trouble.’

Another solution when faced with strange English from a non-native speaker is to tune in to the French translation – or tune in to space music on your iPod.

Alas, this is not always possible in face-to-face meetings. Everything depends on the skill of the interpreter. Confusion generated by faulty translation is less hilarious. Experts recommend that both parties in a negotiation bring their own people to interpret for important discussions. It’s convenient, but dangerous, to rely on the home side’s interpreter, who may unconsciously represent the interest of his or her employer.

Keep sentences short and simple but avoid oversimplifying – which may give an impression that you’re condescending – and pause frequently. Avoid vague and imprecise expressions; use visual aids when you can; and look at the person with whom you’re dealing – not the interpreter; look for signs of confusion; keep eye contact when culturally appropriate (in the Far East it’s sometimes interpreted as aggressive or challenging behavior – only the occasional glance into another person’s face is considered polite).

When it comes to the Far East, it’s not so much ‘read my lips’ as ‘read my mind.’ The silences between utterances are just as meaningful as what is spoken. The Japanese method of listening comprises a repertoire of smiles, nods, and polite noises. The idea is to keep you talking, usually misinterpreted by Westerners as agreement.

If the Japanese have a reputation for inscrutability, it is because they have developed ambiguity of expression to an art form. They have delicate ways of voicing personal opinions. The British may have invented circumlocution (not to mention elocution) but the Japanese have made it an art form. It’s not that they’re hypocritical. But they manifest quintessential politeness , which can mean they say ‘yes’ when they really mean ‘no.’

The Japanese are concerned with saving face and have developed a set of rules to prevent things going wrong. So try to avoid saying no or asking questions when he answer might be no. If you do hear a no in Japan, it is likely to be expressed as a sucking of breath through the teeth. The closest anyone will get to articulating the word no is, ‘It is very difficult,’ or ‘We will need to give this further study.’ The real message is likely to be, ‘Let’s forget the whole business.’

Closer to home, there are defective cognates between languages like English and French. The entente cordiale was in jeopardy when the French head office of its recently acquired subsidiary in Britain faxed: ‘We demand your latest profit figures…’ Demander in French means to ask, not to demand.

Much more important than language, the psychologists, say, is your ‘non-verbal behavior,’ your awareness of different ‘business modes’ and ‘nonverbal behavior’ or body language. This must take into account different notions of politeness, manners and social rituals. Actions speak louder than words. Saying the wrong things – eye contact, hand gestures, touching, bowing, using first names, how to eat and drink can be a minefield for the unwary. The snappily-dressed young Chinese in Hong Kong with the portable phone may seem to talk the same business language, but if you unintentionally offend him, you may lose his trust – and his business.

You first need to know whether you are dealing with people from so-called ‘low context’ cultures (North America, Britain, Sweden, Switzerland, Germany), who spell things out verbally, or ‘high context’ cultures (France, Japan, Spain, Greece, Saudi Arabia, China and Korea) who communicate more by nuance and implication and are less dependent on the spoken word.

For example, the Swiss and the Germans like to lay their cards on the table. Talking to a Frenchman or a Spaniard, what is unsaid is often most important. Low context folk need to attune their listening skills; high context folk should try to be more explicit. ‘Your context or mine?’ is the dialectical ideal.

The handshake is probably the most common form of greeting in the world (except in Japan). But even this simple gesture is fraught with complications. The British handshake is firm but used sparingly; in Italy and France – where handshaking is something of a national pastime (the French are said to spend 30 minutes a day shaking and re-shaking hands) –a gentler, kinder grip may stand you in good stead.

In Germany and Denmark, you nod your head when you shake hands as a gesture of respect. Somebody who does not know this may interpret it as aggression (which it may well be). People in Mediterranean countries sometimes tilt the head back when they shake hands. Northerners may interpret this for arrogance (which it may well be). Anglo-Saxons learn to look people in the eye. This is sometimes interpreted as aggressive or challenging behavior, especially by Orientals, for whom only an occasional glance into the other person’s face is considered polite.

Unless you really know what you’re doing, close bodily greetings are best avoided. Kissing has many pitfalls – unless you are fortunate enough to have been coached by a French general. You need to know which cheek to start with. The British start with the right cheek. In Belgium you start with the left cheek; left, right, left. The French generally kiss twice; left, right. In some Middle East countries they kiss three or even four times – men kiss men, women kiss women. (In Saudi Arabia, greetings are particularly elaborate: after shaking hands a Saudi is likely to kiss you on both cheeks then take your hand in his as a gesture of kinship.)

Should you ever summon the nerve to kiss a lady’s hand (a French aristocrat says it takes three generations to learn how to do it properly), your lips must never actually make contact. In Spain, men who are close friends often give a bear hug, or abrazo. The story goes that a British businessman so shocked the Americans he was with when he greeted a Spaniard with a hug, that he almost lost the contract he was negotiating. Look out now for the Slavonic bear hug.

One area where handshakes, kissing and (heaven forbid) bear hugs have not become established is Japan where such bodily contact is considered impolite. On the other hand, the Japanese custom of bowing can be daunting to a Western businessperson. (Let your hand slide down towards your knees, back and neck stiff with eyes averted.) The act has crucial social implications, depending on title. It is essential for Japanese to know the ranking order within any group because rank is applied to all circumstances – whether business or social.

The way other cultures like to put people at their ease can be confusing. The American use of first names as an instant form of friendship does not go down well in countries like Germany, even England. (Germans like to be addressed by their last name with full academic titles, like Professor Dr. Schmidt, rather than Willy or Ilse. In Austria, you have to contend with Dr. Dr. Schmidt. In Italy, address anybody over 40 wearing a suit as Dottore.)

The British and Americans share at least one thing: they like to break the ice with a joke, which means sometimes being thought flippant. We in turn may think the Japanese are amused if they giggle: but they may sometimes do this when they are perplexed. In Japan, Korea and China, laughter is often a sign of embarrassment. In the Philippines it can mean, ‘Take note! I’m about to say something important!’ And Thais laugh at tragic news to cheer you up. (Something we are all getting used to now!)

The classic Anglo-Saxon ‘time is money’ approach to negotiations is unlikely to go down well in Asian societies, which are based on personal relationships and building reciprocal trust before agreeing to clinch a deal. The cold call often brings the cold response.

The Japanese in particular set great store by long term relationships and human value. They need to know the sort of person they are dealing with. An evening’s karaoke or a day’s golf isn’t enough. One must submit to an exhausting spiritual inquisition. ‘What are your first impressions of Japan?’ Four pairs of liquid black eyes are hanging on my reply. I venture something about the felicitous co-existence of tradition and the modern industrial state. ‘What impresses me,’ I hear myself say, ‘is that traditional values seem to be an integral part of the business and social fabric. And that tradition is more than ever relevant in these protean times…’

I seem to have passed the test. My host smiles. ‘It is important for the Japanese to explore the heart of the person he does business with.’ And refills my cup from his own sake flask, a gesture of friendship.

Consequently, the Japanese take much longer than business people in the West to make a decision. They are more committed to group consensus.  But once everyone is on board, implementation can be swift. The getting-to-know-you process often takes weeks or months instead of hours and days. Reaching an agreement takes five times longer than it does in the west. But it’s usually time well invested.

If you’re late for a meeting or dinner in the Philippines nobody cares. But elsewhere in Asia it’s a fatal faux pas. But don’t be surprised at constant interruptions during meetings in India, Africa and the Middle East, especially with ministry officials. People rarely instruct the secretary to hold calls or tell unscheduled visitors to wait. This would be inexcusably rude to legions of friends and relatives who are likely to drop by unannounced at any time.

Meetings themselves can drive Anglo-Saxons to distraction. The French style of working is often incomprehensible to us. For example, in America or northern Europe, the point of having a meeting is to get decisions made or to allocate projects. The French meeting (which can go on for three or four hours, even longer than the business lunch) may not have a particular agenda. People simply talk and talk, with the idea of putting themselves in context – as the sociologists say – with other people. It’s a form of jockeying for position and networking. Consequently, the French work long hours. You often find French managers in the office at seven in the evening. They manage to get things done, although not always to deadlines, which don’t have the same awesome imperative as they do chez nous.

People set great store by details of etiquette. Gestures need not be extravagant or deliberate to be considered offensive. For example, in the Middle East, never give or receive anything with the left hand (which was traditionally used for cleaning up after bodily functions) or sit showing the sole of your shoes. And it’s often considered impolite to refuse refreshments.

Even a classic Anglo-Saxon OK sign – a thumb-finger circle – can get you into trouble. In Brazil, Russia and Greece it is considered vulgar, even obscene. In Japan it signifies money and in France zero or worthless. In Finland, folded arms are a sign of arrogance, while in Fiji, the gesture shows disrespect. In Java, placing your hands on hips means you are looking for a fight. So place your hands on the table out of trouble.

Except at an English dinner party, of course, when they should be placed on your knees, when you’re not actually eating. (In France, place them by the side of your plate.) And in Japan remember not to speak when you’re eating (not to be confused with speaking with your mouth full). And, of course, Americans have this curious habit of cutting a piece of something, putting the knife down then switching the fork to their right hand. No wonder they invented fast food.

People do business with those whom they feel comfortable. It comes down to sincerity and spontaneous good manners.

If you’re not sure how to behave in someone else’s culture, then at least be polite in your own. Unless, of course, you are into power behavior.

But that’s another story.

Congratulations! You’ve decided that life is too short to endure the squalor and indignity of ‘cattle class’ and will join the ‘premium classes’ and shop around for the best prices in the front of the cabin. (That’s where you turn left instead of right at the door to the plane.)

But with first class costing around twice the price of business class; which in turn can cost twice the price of a flexible economy ticket and 20 times more than the cheapest ticket in the back of the plane, reconciling comfort, cost and convenience is a dialectical dilemma – it’s easy to pay a lot more for a lot less.

Premium economy can be a successful compromise.  Taiwan carrier Eva Air was the first airline to introduce a premium economy cabin in 1991, the year it started flying, with Evergreen Deluxe (renamed Elite Class on Boeing 777s), that rewarded economy passengers paying the full (Y) fare with a separate cabin, and better seating and service, followed in turn by Virgin Atlantic a year later, British Airways’ World Traveler Plus, and United Airlines Economy Plus and a growing number of carriers. Premium economy typically offers 38 to 42 inches of leg room – five to 7 inches more than regular cattle class at about one third of the price of a business class seat.

It attracts leisure travelers (especially the girth-stricken or those of normal height) and business travelers whose budgets do not stretch to business class. According to British Airways’ research, typical premium economy passengers tend to be self-employed or work for small to medium sized companies; or honeymooners. Savvy travelers often mix classes, flying out in business class, and back in premium economy, or vice versa, depending on the need to work or sleep.

The cheapest distance between two points is often flying with a carrier through its home hub rather than traveling direct, saving up to 50 percent on the price of a nonstop business class ticket – as strategy that I call ‘cross-border hubbing.’ 

Traveling from London to Bangkok last year, I forwent the chance to shell out a daunting £3,168 for a round-trip business-class ticket with British Airways, or Singapore Airlines, by paying £1,332 with Austrian Airlines and a seamless connection in Vienna. Traveling to the East Coast of the United States, consider Icelandair (fresh fish and malt whiskies in business class) – and an easy change of plane in Reykjavik makes a pleasant break. Finnair goes out of its way (no pun intended) to attract travelers from Britain to go via Helsinki to destinations in Asia and the Far East.

Many travel agents, such as long-haul specialists Trailfinders.com, offer so-called ‘negotiated’ fares with certain carriers.

For example, planning a hypothetical round-trip from London to Sydney for travel in April, Trailfinders.com offered me premium economy with Virgin Atlantic (via Hong Kong) for £1,665 (60-day advance booking); business class with China Airlines (via Amsterdam and Taipei) for £1.849; and Thai International (via Hong Kong) for £2,339.

Virgin Atlantic.com came up with premium economy for £2,600-£3,000; Upper Class (business) for £4,300 (restricted) and £6,700 (flexible) – compared with the lowest economy price of £1,083. British Airways.com offered premium economy for £918 and £1,189, and business class for £5,055. Opodo.com had the lowest economy fare (£727) with Emirates; premium economy, British Airways, £1,858; Qantas, £2498; and Japan Airlines, £5,832. Business class offers ranged from £2,564 with Etihad Airways, and £3,700 with Singapore Airlines and Cathay Pacific, to £4,040 with Qantas.

The lesson to learn from these prices is that not every airline or online travel agent can offer the best deal with every carrier.

If you’re traveling at least half way round the world, it may make sense to go all the way round (either east or west) by buying a round-the-world (RTW) ticket in business or premium economy. They are often cheaper and more flexible than a round-trip fare.

All three alliances (Oneworld, Star Alliance and Skyteam) offer a raft of prices and routings, usually with just two airlines; such as British Airways from Europe to Sydney, Qantas across the Pacific, and thence, via a variety of gateways, BA back to Europe. Star Alliance partners Air France and Lufthansa offer a similar around the world duo.

With such a wide world of choice out there, what is the best way to look before you book? Unless you know what flights you want, the strategy I recommend is first to go to OAGflights.com, or Amadeus.net, that allow you to check flight schedules and seat availability (though not prices) between any city pair, wherever you are in the world, and then shop around for the best prices.

Skytrax Research (www.airlinequality.com) can help you figure out the best, and worst, seats in premium cabins, along with seat dimensions and seating tips, on long-haul flights, for more than 325 airlines around the world. Seat plans at www.seatguru.com (part of TripAdvisor.com) show you which seats to ask for, and which to avoid, on nearly 100 airlines, including Air France, British Airways, Virgin Atlantic and Qantas.  Select an airline and an aircraft type, move your mouse over the seating plan, and seat descriptions will appear (green designates a ‘very good seat,’ yellow, ‘be aware!’ and red, a ‘bad seat.’)

Airborne between Paris and Hong Kong on a Global Airlines Boeing 2000ER, John and Jane Harbinger are lingering over lunch in the gourmet restaurant on the top deck (not much point in fast food on a 16-hour flight) figuring how they’re going to spend the rest of the afternoon. Jane decides on a soothing séance in the beauty parlor: John will make a few calls from the business center and polish his presentation.  They’ll meet for drinks at six in the suite before dinner. ‘Would sushi hit the spot? I’ll book a table downstairs.’    John asks a passing ‘skycop’ for directions. ‘Head down the main corridor towards the tail and take the elevator down to the bottom deck.’

            Planes such as this three-deck 1,000-seat Goliath – which entered service in 2015 – are derived from the 600-seat super jumbos promised (or threatened) by Airbus and Boeing in 1999.  They are flying villages, allowing infinite scope for social congress, with half a dozen restaurant concessions – from classical French to McDonalds’ junk food – casinos, shops, cyber-cafes with Internet access, and health clubs. About the only things missing are a pool and an outside jogging track. But you never know!

            There is no such thing these days as first, business or economy class. The price you pay depends on your choice of seating, cuisine and entertainment along with the kind of service you want on the ground. Accommodation ranges from standard cattle class and ergonomic sleeper seats with more personal space to air-conditioned cabins with beds, bathroom and butler service, that convert to a daytime lounge. For an extra charge, the airline will deliver a container to your home or office, transport you through the airport and load you onto the plan. Some tycoons have converted their offices into flight containers, re-creating the private railroad cars of a century ago – the ultimate in seamless travel.

            Many people travel ‘a la carte.’ You book a seat or cabin and pay extra for meals and in-flight facilities and lounges, limos and other trimmings on the ground. Traveling cattle class is no longer much of an ordeal. You only have to stay in your seat for take-off and landing; the rest of the time you can move around freely. Skycops patrol the crowded aisles ready to deal with unruly or abusive passengers who can threaten not only the well being of other passengers but the safety of the aircraft. After all, on a long-haul flight you can be in the air for up to 18 hours – almost long enough to get married, start a family and get divorced, although not necessarily in that order. Some enterprising agents are using reservations computers to help people choose in-flight companions. They punch in your high-altitude likes and dislikes and match you up with a suitable seatmate.

            Global Airlines is one of three mega-carriers that together share 80 percent of the world air travel market – the culmination of the giant airline alliances and code-sharing deals that carved up the skies in the late 1990s. These compete with consortia of regional airlines in Europe, the Middle East, Africa and Asia Pacific, along with half a dozen long-haul carriers mainly serving the business market.    

            Code sharing, whereby two or more airlines operate the same flight, and ‘block seat’ arrangements, whereby one airline sells seats on another airline’s flights, became commonplace by 2000. The abundance of space on the superjumbos allowed several airlines to share the same plane with their own fares, flight attendants, in-flight cuisine and service.

This led to the concept of the ‘virtual’ airline. You don’t need to own aircraft and infrastructure when you can ‘brand’ your own cabin in a superjumbo. Travel agents can buy blocks of seats (and hotel rooms) and market them under their own brands to corporate customers.

Since 1999, superjumbos – along with advanced technology for better control of the airways with new satellite navigation systems and new airports and terminals – have diminished the specter of gridlock in the skies by quadrupling air traffic capacity since 1999. But the challenge was daunting. Since 1999, air traffic has been growing at around 10 percent a year.

Thus the number of passengers has doubled every seven years, reaching a staggering 20 billion in 2020. Where are all these people going? And, more to the point, why do they all seem to be going with me?

The growth of tourism in China has been phenomenal. The Chinese government set the ball rolling when it cut the working week to five days, giving the nation’s workers an extra half-day off a week.

This was even better news for the travel trade, because – assuming a workforce of 750 million from a total population of 1.2 billion – it meant an extra 15 billion days’ leisure time coming on stream. And with more disposable income and the liberalization of passports, the Chinese have become international travelers.

According to the World Tourism Organization, China now generates more out-bound tourism than any country in the world apart from Japan, Germany and the United States. China has also become the world’s top tourist destination with 137 million visitors in 2020.

The world’s top 30 airports will handle more than 16 billion passengers this year. The traditional mega-hubs such as Chicago O’Hare, Los Angeles International, Atlanta, London Heathrow, Hong Kong’s Chek Lap Kok and Singapore’s Changi are bursting at the seams, each handling around 200 million passengers a year.  But an airport building boom, especially in Asia, has added capacity. China has built more than 50 new airports since 1999.

Meanwhile, the creation of ‘wayports,’ or new hubs, in remote parts of Norway and Siberia has siphoned off a large amount of connecting traffic. More than 30 percent of the people milling around Heathrow, for example, were simply trying to get somewhere else.

Supersonic travel has become space age with Orbitol, a 50-passenger space plane that travels in low earth orbit enabling it to fly from London to Sydney in 45 minutes. Unlike the old space shuttles, Orbitol takes off and lands under its own power. After accelerating through Mach 5 to 80, 000 feet, the plane leaves the atmosphere, continues to accelerate and becomes a satellite itself after reaching 250,000 feet – around four times the cruising altitude of Concorde – with an orbital velocity of Mach 25 to 30.

More down to earth, high-speed maglev (magnetically levitated) trains traveling at 300 miles per hour have replaced air travel on journeys of up to 500 miles, releasing slots at major airports, most of which have train stations, for long-haul traffic.

Regional airlines serve ‘thinner routes,’ enabling business travelers to avoid mega-hubs. Thus ‘regional long-haul’ services allow travelers to fly point-to-point between cities such as Manchester and Osaka, Seattle and Perth, Stuttgart and San Francisco.

Mega-hubs, with a larger daily population than many major cities, are no longer a means to an end but an end in itself, destinations in their own right. They form a worldwide network of alternative cities – what you might call the terrestrial equivalent of space stations – with their own business communities and civic amenities, hotels and conference centers. Who needs to go downtown when you are already there? Many people don’t travel to cities any more, just to airports.

John Harbinger, on-line to his office in Broken Springs, Colorado, asks himself a routine question: whether he really needed to make this trip.

Technology enables (and requires) him to be totally wired at all times.  The No. 1 rule for business travelers is wherever you are, always to be on the phone to somewhere else. So why travel? John rationalizes that this is a working vacation – a chance to bring Jane along. He’s looking    forward to a round of golf with his Chinese associates. And he and Jane plan to take off for a five-day airship cruise among the Hong Kong islands.

Modern airships are safe, comfortable, and environmentally friendly, as they sail and hover less than 100 feet above the ground.  An airship cruise is a spectacular way to see many wonders of the world, such as the Amazon and what’s left of  the rain forests in Brazil and Peru, chateaux of the Loire, fly along the Nile to see the pyramids, explore Venice or make an air safari in Kenya.

‘Virtual conferencing,’ has done away with the need for many business trips. A 100-inch (256 centimeter) illuminated high-resolution screen with ‘wrap-around’ sound makes everyone seem life-like and gives the illusion that you’re in the same room. This means that you can participate normally in the discussion; using the same body language.

Travel was in danger of becoming an end in itself. I am therefore I travel: I travel therefore I am. Travel is about human interaction, hands-on experience. Getting the best return on your ‘interaction expense’ is a trade-off between cost in terms of time, money and hassle and the opportunity of staying doing something more productive somewhere else.

Of course, there’s sometimes a need to be somewhere in person – the eye contact, the real, compared to the cybernetic, handshake, the impromptu meeting and, of course, the social dimension can be pure gold. It is not something you can quantify; it’s intuitive, gut feeling. Who goes to a conference to listen to the speakers? You can pick up a transcript or receive it live in your office. It’s real-time networking that counts.

In the words of Alfred Lord Tennyson’s Homeric hero, Ulysses, back in 1842:

‘I am a part of all that I have met;

Yet all experience is an arch where thro’

Gleams that untravelled world, whose margin fades

For ever and for ever when I move.’

But business travel is less poetic and a good deal less sentimental. Which is why John Harbinger makes fewer trips these days. This excursion with Jane is a fairly rare experience in real-time reality. Like most other road warriors, John embraces the new ‘travel avoidance’ technology, such as virtual conferencing and virtual meetings in real or ‘displaced’ time, with chiliastic zeal.

            The technology is rooted in voice recognition software developed back in the late 90s that enabled you to call a computer from anywhere in the world, check your e-mail your voice-mail and faxes, either by computer or through the telephone. You could convert them from voice to text, or vice versa, and re-direct them by any medium.

            Recent advances in artificial intelligence make it possible to hold an open-ended discussion through a computer. The machine not only understands the meaning of what you say but replies to you in a normal voice – which might be the digitalized voice of a real person. 

John Millennium, along with his colleagues, has had his voice ‘digitalized’ and stored on-line. Early computer-generated voices sounded robotic because words were mechanically strung together into sentences, thereby losing the rhythm of the dialogue; whereas digitalized voices are produced by recording entire sentences, then shoehorning in numbers and letters of the alphabet.

Voices are recorded in three ways. If you say the number nine, for instance, at the beginning of a word, it sounds different from if you say it in the middle or the end. The same applies to words and phrases.   

It’s hard to detect a digitalized voice in displaced time from a real voice in real time. Meetings can thus be conducted in real or displaced time. You program your responses, to say, a budget meeting, in advance and your digitalized voice conducts a dialogue on your behalf. Cognitive programs are being designed whereby John can participate vicariously at several meetings while he is away. It beats the old way of having answering machines talk to one another, or batting e-mails back and forth, communication lost in fruitless volleys of non sequiturs.

Back in their suite, the Harbingers are mentally packing their bags for an ‘out of this world’ space vacation. They have been armchair astronauts for years and are looking forward to five days in a Disney Space Resort 300 miles above Earth. They will take off from Cape Canaveral, Florida, in a NASA space shuttle adapted to carry 40 tourists, experiencing weightless for about 15 minutes.

The resort accommodates 300 people in cruise-ship luxury. It takes an hour and a half to make a complete orbit of the Earth, spinning like a roulette wheel at about one revolution a minute, thus developing artificial gravity.

You stay in an outer ring, where you experience about half of normal gravity – just about half your normal weight – so you can use bathroom facilities and such at practically normal conditions. A central column section has zero gravity. This is the entertainment and recreation center, which guests can visit for an hour or so at a time. There are windows in the central column to view the Earth.

There are lots of entertainment possibilities at zero gravity, including a gym with padded walls. Astronauts have found that blood that is normally drawn down to your legs is released and drifts upwards. You become thinner, your chest expands by two to three inches, your face fills out and wrinkles disappear.

While Jane muses about a second honeymoon in space, John is thinking about the final frontier in space travel – to experience Einstein’s paradox of relativity, that if you travel faster than the speed of light, you are younger when you get back than when you left. Daunting implications for a career in international business.

If you’re feeling under the weather on your next business trip, don’t blame it all on jet lag, travel fatigue, the recalcitrance of your sparring partners or a subliminal hangover. Put it down to the quality of the air you breathe. There’s junk air as well as junk food. You may be suffering from a deficiency of negative ions.

            Ions are naturally occurring air molecules that carry a positive or negative charge. The outdoor air concentration varies with the weather, altitude, pollution, time of day and season, but normally consists of 1,000 negative ions and 1,200 positive ions per cubic centimeter. If the air is abnormally high in positive ions, or low in ions of another polarity – which is often the case in aircraft cabins, cars, trains and air-conditioned buildings – you may be prone to headaches, nausea and irritability. On the other hand, air which is rich in negative ions – such as you find in the mountains, besides flowing water and after a thunderstorm – can make you feel good. This is why a growing number of travelers are taking ionizers with them to charge the depleted in cars and hotel rooms with negative ions.

            Weren’t ionizers discredited back in the 1950s when the U.S. Food and Drug Administration prohibited their sale for anything other than air-cleaning applications? They were indeed, and for good cause. The notion that ions could influence health and behavior lost credence as a result of dubious research reports and extravagant claims by manufacturers. But recent ion research in the United States, Israel and England is helping to make ionizers scientifically respectable.

            At any rate, sales of ionizers are taking off. A British firm, Mountain Breeze, claims to be selling an average of 1,000 ionizers a week. Says marketing director Stephen Cross: ‘There’s a massive reawakening of interest in ionizers. You should see the testimonials we get; we’re doubling our sales every year. In the U.S. you still can’t say anything more than that they clean the air. There is empirical evidence that people feel better in an environment which is high in negative ions. We still don’t know why, but we’re still gradually building up the research base.’

            An ionizer is nothing more than a high-voltage circuit which creates a high potential at the tip of a sharp needle, thereby discharging a stream of electrons which collide with air molecules to form negative ions. These then impart a negative charge to dust, pollen, water droplets and cigarette smoke suspended in the air which precipitate out to the nearest grounded surface, such as the floor and walls, by electrolytic action. You can easily test this by placing an ionizer on your desk in a smoke-filled room. The smoke rapidly clears and the ionizer is surrounded by a corona of dust which is easily swept up. If you put your hand close to an ionizer, you can actually feel the stream of   electrons on the skin as a slight breeze. And it’s sometimes visible in the dark as a faint blue glow. One thing to check if you’re buying an ionizer is that it doesn’t emit ozone as a byproduct (which many early models did) as this is highly toxic in concentrations of more than a few parts per million.

            Few people seriously dispute the air cleaning capacity of ionizers – they are routinely used in offices and some hospitals are installing them to help reduce cross-infection by airborne bacteria and viruses.

Studies carried out in the 1970s at the University of California and at the University of Jerusalem have demonstrated that high levels of positive ions cause the body to react as if it were under stress by stimulating the production of neuro-hormones, such as serotonin – which affects sleep and mood – and adrenalin, as well as histamine, which is associated with hay fever and other allergic reactions; whereas a preponderance of negative ions seems to contribute to a feeling of well-being.

The Jerusalem study examined the effects of the Sharav, a hot, dry wind in Israel which causes up to two thirds of the population to complain of headaches, respiratory discomfort and depression. The Sharav and similar winds, such as the Fohn in Switzerland, southern Germany and Austria and the Santa Ana in California, have a high positive ion content which may indeed cause behavioral and clinical symptoms. It has been reported that when the Fohn blows, hospitals postpone operations and the traffic accident rate soars. Joan Didion writes of the morbid effects of the Santa Ana when ‘every voice seems a scream. It is the season of suicide and divorce and prickly dread, wherever the wind blows.’ Raymond Chandler described the hot dry Santa Anas ‘that come down through the mountain passes and curl your hair and make your nerves jump and your skin itch.’

More recently, work by Dr Leslie Hawkins, head of the Robens Institute at the University of Surrey in England, has demonstrated that in air-conditioned buildings, where the ion count is low, the incidence of headaches, nausea and lethargy – the ‘sick building syndrome’ – suffered by occupants is significantly reduced by installing an air ionizer.

Hawkins conducted extensive double-blind occupational studies to determine if positive or negative atmospheric ion levels could influence actual performance levels as well as attitudes among computer operators. He demonstrated that a majority reported feeling more comfortable and alert when the de-ionized environment in which they had been working was replenished with a natural level of negative ions. His studies also revealed that this replenished air increased work efficiency and productivity with a concurrent reduction in reported symptoms of nausea, stress, fatigue and dizziness.

If you fancy doing some research of your own, there’s a wide choice of ionizers on the market, including portable ones on the market, including portable ones for hotel rooms and car models that plug into lighter sockets.

Whether or not it makes you feel better, snorting the right sort of ions could be a great way to break the ice at your next meeting.

Roger Collis 1986 International Herald Tribune 

 [Another ‘blast from the past;’ an archive story from my forthcoming collection, ‘Management Man.’ www.rogercollis.co.uk]   

Gloria Stern, forty-year-old mother of two, effulgent blonde, Harvard Business School graduate, owner of a mean backhand at tennis, semi-retired gourmet cook, and senior vice president marketing at Mistral Laboratories, is sitting alone in the main board room in the main board room among the debris of the monthly planning meeting. It is five-thirty on a moist spring afternoon. Outside, she can hear her male colleagues gunning their cars in the parking lot. In a few minutes they will be heading for the fabled world of martini buckets and sympathetic bosoms.

            Gloria shakes her long hair loose which gives her face a softer look. Little stress lines appear around her mouth as she tightens her jaw to apply lipstick. She is a beautiful woman whom time and the job have touched with an invisible shadow. She has a headache, her mouth is sour from too many cigarettes, and she feels her period coming on.

            But the meeting had been good. They had approved her new medicated shampoo plans – in spite of a strong rearguard action from the pharmaceutical division. But it had been a close thing to get the budget allocation in face of so many other projects claiming priority. Gloria had had to summon all her reserves of restraint at times to disguise emotions which others would have pounced upon as being quintessentially female and therefore unbefitting a senior executive. And fortunately Dave Silver had been there.

            Dave Silver is Gloria’s division president and her mentor since she joined the group eight years ago. It is almost a father-daughter type of relationship. Dave has guided her through the two major hurdles that a management woman must face: the crucial transition into middle-management, and the quantum jump into the very top of the hierarchy.

            In common with most successful women in business, Gloria was an only child and had enjoyed a strong and sustaining relationship wit her father, which had lasted throughout her adolescence and college years. He had helped her to develop so-called masculine qualities ad objectives without in any way abandoning her notion of herself as a female. Given her father’s values, Gloria was given the support by both her parents to challenge the conventional limitations of the female role in business. In many respects, Dave Silver had taken over from her father.

            Gloria had learned how to become a good team player. This was important to her in developing a male view of the organization and to share with men the ability to exploit personal relationships for long term goals. Unlike many women, Gloria learned how to be flexible in group situations, not to make a ‘cause’ of small issues and not to take criticism too personally.

            The crux of women’s problem in business is that while men are brought up to recognize that they will have to work all their lives, women typically hedge between a full scale career and the more conventional female role until they reach their middle to late thirties, when it is hard for them to make the major transition to middle-management. Consequently, women often tend to be more concerned with immediate job fulfillment than with long-term ambition. This can critically affect their attitudes towards people and their jobs in a way which reinforces their sexual stereotype among male executives. And potentiates their problems in the organization; ironically the stereotype derives mainly from childhood and adolescent conditioning, rather than any intrinsic differences in character between the sexes. As a result, women tend to become more task and skill oriented than men. They have a compulsion to prove themselves in the world of men by excelling in a specialty. This tends to make them good supervisors, but unable to delegate      effectively at the middle-management level, in particular to male subordinates.

Gloria had been lucky. Her husband, Tom, understood the imperatives which her upbringing had instilled, and had helped her to make a definite career decision before she was thirty. They had married while Tom was still in medical school, and had the children early. Gloria was therefore better equipped than many women to make the crucial break-through into middle management.

It hadn’t been easy. Gloria had decided that she could only move upwards through the organization if she proved herself more competent at her current job, at the job above her, and at the job below her, than any man available. This took enormous amounts of energy and concentration, and threatened at times her life with Tom and the children. Along the way, she developed tactics for handling a range of potential embarrassments; from avoiding tears in public and unwelcome sexual overtures, to chairing recalcitrant peer-group meetings.

As she reached senior middle-management and became more sure of herself and her abilities, Gloria no longer felt a need to sublimate or make excuses for an essential part of her femininity. Not that she had led a double life in and out of the office. But she now felt more relaxed about herself as a woman and as an executive. She felt freer and more open in her work relationships instead of translating her perception of males styles into her behavior. Her transition into top management a year ago was accompanied by a sense of satisfaction and congruence; she had come to terms with the costs and rewards of building a career. And she had remained a woman, true to herself.

Gloria lights a last cigarette and thinks back over the meeting. It occurs to her that life would be easier if men were more liberated from their gender stereotype with regard to female executives. It’s been a long way, baby. Gloria puffs on her cigarette and allows herself a few moments of silent, private emotion.

Roger Collis 1971 Werbung/Publicite

     .    

[This is an archive story from a collection of about 100 which I am including in my new book, ‘Management Man.’] www.rogercollis.co.uk

Air France flight 795 from Copenhagen to Paris is full; and it’s been a long day. Martin Simon, European marketing director for the consumer products division of Mistral Laboratories, is wedged between a hirsute Swede and a disconcertingly attractive blonde. He balances a Scotch and Perrier on his open briefcase; and is in the familiar state of shifting mental gears between markets.

Martin’s thoughts right now are hovering somewhere between the pleasant meeting he has just left (after all Danish sales are on plan and the smoked eel was delicious) and the somewhat more combative session he expects to face tomorrow.  The French company has a sales problem and is recommending that they trim their TV schedule to protect their operating profit. Martin is opposed to this; feeling that they are already spending close to minimum viable ‘reach and frequency.’ And to risk losing share of advertising at this stage of the market development might be disastrous for the brand.

Martin knows that from an overall European point of view he can easily compensate for a French profit shortfall by moving notional funds from the German market without hurting that business. (He suspects that the Germans have quite a bit more money ‘sandbagged’ in their budget.) But of course he has local sensibilities to contend with; there are few general managers willing to forgo a good end of year result for their country profit centers in the interests of the European area – especially to the consumer products division for which Martin is responsible. It is only too easy to cut ‘discretionary’ marketing expenses to the detriment of future sales and profits.

Of course, Martin is no stranger to this kind of scene. During more than fifteen years of multi-national marketing he has mastered some of the diplomatic arts; how to get results unobtrusively by letting others think that his ideas originated with them; he knows how to get inside the thought processes of the local people – much more demanding than simply speaking the language; an ability to project oneself into the wiles and wherefores and mores of the society. Culture shock is an endemic hazard for the international man.

Martin must also judge which battles are critical for him to win, and those which can be gracefully conceded to local amour propre.  He has to know when and how to refer disputes to a higher court of appeal. In this case, he must judge whether the French really have a sound business case, or whether they are just ‘being difficult,’ interpreted as ‘siege mentality,’ or the ‘not invented here’ syndrome. He knows how crucial it is to be able to evaluate local recommendations in the light of other market priorities throughout Europe. Because, for Martin Simon, international marketing is not just marketing across frontiers; it means having an overview mentality – the ability to match resources with opportunities on a global scale. Local markets are competing all the time for funds, and for Martin’s limited time. He needs to judge the priority and the quality of plans that are submitted to him – to reconcile each country’s profit exigencies with those for the whole of Europe.

This is not easy. Mistral operates a ‘matrix organization’ in which Martin shares responsibility with the local general managers for his product division within their legal entities. Martin’s divisional marketing managers only report to him on a ‘functional’ or a dotted-line basis; but to the country general managers on a line basis. Martin report to the president, consumer products division; whereas each general manager reports to the president, international operations, both at the corporate Kremlin in Broken Springs, Colorado. It is a structure which exacerbates the inherent conflict between the European area and local management. ‘Kinetic equilibrium,’ is how Mistral’s chairman described it. (The doctrine was later enshrined in a Harvard Business School case study: Chameleon Corporation.)

Martin believes it is better off trying to persuade than to legislate. The knack is to know whether a problem or issue requires a ‘strategic’ decision taken by himself or can be left to a ‘routine’ decision by his local people. The key to an effective relationship is personal credibility and trust. Martin’s effectiveness derives in part from the dialectical tension between his role as a ‘supervisor’ and his role as ‘consultant.’ The reconciliation is particularly onerous in times of serious contention.

Striking the right balance will be the key to the French meeting. He will need to draw upon all his reserves of credibility.

The plane is on time at Paris Charles-de-Gaulle Airport, but the autoroute from Roissy is closed part of the way for one-lane traffic. It is half past eleven by the time Martin reaches his hotel – too late, perhaps, to call his wife in Brussels. He chats for a few minutes with Nicolas, the night porter; then takes a bottle of Perrier up to his room and goes through the French budgets once again. He knows that a conflict is inevitable.

Tomorrow morning he is on his own.

Roger Collis 1973 Werbung/Publicite

[Another ‘blast from the past;’ aan archive story from my forthcoming collection,  ‘Management Man.] www.rogercollis.co.uk      

The latest return to the future comes in the form of the patented ‘Flex-Seat’ from Boston-based Jacob-Innovations – a ‘two-storey pod-like design for business-class seating which can be converted to an economy-class set-up on demand’ for airlines ‘that might want to alter a plane’s configuration depending on how many tickets of each class it has sold; and at the same time, ‘increasing the density of a conventional business class cabin by 50 per cent while providing full reclining’ – whatever that means.

The Flex-Seat was presented at the ‘Aircraft Interiors Expo in Hamburg – ‘launchpad for cabin programmes that showcase tomorrow’s designs. Check it out at http://jacob-innovations.com/FLEX-SEAT.html.  Flex-Seat looks to me like Lego re-invented by the Japanese – pods for bods. Think of it as an accountant’s dream for raising the ergonomic stakes of ‘cattle-class’, or maximising the return on investment of ‘premium’ passengers – responsible, according to IATA, for 25-30 percent of passenger revenues but only 7-10 percent of numbers.’

Whatever the merits of Flex-Seat, airlines need a deus ex machina to extricate them from a dire dilemma: how to reconfigure the expensive real estate of aircraft cabins to conform to a new reality: that all-important premium traffic is declining; and that the class system,  as it has evolved over the years, needs to be re-invented.   

The statistics are appalling: premium ticket sales continue to fall – they were off 21.3 percent off in June 2009 compared with June 2008, according to the International Air Transport Association Premium Travel Monitor, which should have most airlines in a catatonic tailspin. Premium travel numbers have been in decline for 12 consecutive months.

Even the business travelers that are staying in the front of the plane during the down-turn are doing so at cheaper rates; revenues from premium travel fell even more – 41 percent in the second quarter as airlines slash prices in a frantic attempt to maintain demand.
 
The effect on the bottom line has been catastrophic. Consider this: according to IATA, ‘Premium passengers are responsible for 25-30 percent of passenger revenues but only 7-10 percent of numbers.’ Every percentage loss of travelers in the premium cabins reflects on the yield like a shadow on the wall.

And yet airlines have only themselves to blame. They failed to learn the lessons of the 9/11 crisis, which exquisitely coincided with the cusp of a recession, and sent travel into free fall – precipitating a sea change in the way people view business travel, and view their lives, sharpening their priorities.   And they failed to understand that their ‘branding,’ their class system as it had evolved over the past 40 years had got out of sync with the changing needs of the business traveler.  What is more, they have ‘debased’ the value of their brands through indiscriminate upgrades and cut prices.

Even I am too young to go back to the 1930’s with bunk beds on the flying boats and the trans-continental flights between New York (La Guardia and California (Birkbank L.A.) taking two or three days. The opening chapter in Scott Fitzgerald’s unfinished novel ‘The last tycoon’ has an opening chapter on such a flight.  My only surrogate recollection is a photo of a woman fastening her stockings on a bunk bed on a United Airlines flight in the 1930’s.

Lillian Hellman wrote about the time on a flight from Los Angeles to New York in the 1950s when Hollywood producer Harry Cohn sent back an invitation for her to join him for lunch, saying that it was much healthier than the “dreck on the plane.”

“Two of his younger employees hauled down the largest picnic hamper I have ever seen,” Hellman wrote. “It was filled with forty or fifty fine, thin chicken sandwiches, cold white wine, prosciutto wrapped around perfect ripe melon, homemade pickles, large peaches, wonderful walnut cookies.”

So what else is new?

When I started traveling on business in the mid-1960s, there were only two classes on the old narrow-body planes and the early jumbos – first and economy. And only three types of fare: first; full (flexible) economy; and ‘excursion.’

First class was a golden ghetto for chief honchos and the seriously rich. Everyone else flew economy – which wasn’t nearly as grand as business class is today: you had to pay for drinks and headsets (with those little plugs that used to bore into your brain) but the food was okay and you had enough space to stretch your legs. Cattle class it was not. And it was democratic. You might find yourself chatting to a lieutenant if not a captain of industry, a diplomat, an aircraft salesman, a honeymoon couple, or perhaps an ambiguous lady of uncertain provenance. There was much scope for social congress.

My fondest memory of those days is of flying back from Chicago to Europe. Staff at the row of airline check-in desks behaved like barkers at a fairground. As most flights left more or less at the same time in the evening, I would up and down with my flexible ticket and bestow my custom on the airline that would ‘guarantee’ me four seats across,  ideally behind the bulkhead  in the non-movie section of the cabin, where I could stretch out and sleep. More creative souls would invoke a last-moment client meeting and upgrade to first class using their Air Travel Cards, swearing blind that there were no seats left in economy.
 
Life became more complicated when business class emerged as a third cabin in the late 1970s. The idea, you may remember, was to ‘reward’ business travelers paying the full economy (Y) fare on the new wide-bodied planes with their own exclusive cabin, sequestrating them from backpackers and savvy leisure travelers who might have paid two-thirds or less for their tickets. Comfort and service in most long-haul business class cabins is arguably more comfortable than the old first class, with lie-flat all-singing-all-dancing sleeper seats, and a galaxy of perks and gizmos; but a lot less exclusive.
 
Piling on frills inevitably piled on the price of the ticket. First class can cost twice the price of business class, which in turn costs up to four times more than a fully flexible economy ticket and 20 times more than the cheapest excursion ticket.

Faced with a blizzard of discounted or ‘gray’ fares, upgrades, special promotions, such as two-for-one fares, and a maze of frequent flier awards, it’s easy to pay a lot more for a lot less – or vice versa.

Virgin Atlantic re-invented the two-class (first/economy) system in 1985 with its Upper Class – billed as first class service and comfort at business-class prices. Upper Class became the concept for the early 1990s as several airlines abandoned first class for a more spacious business class (business class had become a tough act to follow; though there are always people prepared to pay serious money for serious in-flight real estate.)
 
Continental Airlines was the first carrier to create a combined first/business class, followed by Delta Air Lines, Air Canada, KLM, and many others. Even airlines that have kept first class cabins, only offer them on certain routes.

Premium economy is a successful compromise between the ever-increasing cost of business class and the squalor of cattle class. It attracts and business travelers whose budgets, or corporate travel policies, do not permit them to fly business class; and many leisure, especially older people.  The idea is to ‘reward’ economy passengers paying the full fare, and passengers who could no longer afford business class, with a separate cabin – echoing the rationale for business class 40 years ago.

Perhaps it is time to re-invent the wheel.

Who are the elite? What are the elite programs offering their members? What do frequent flyers want? And what trends are we seeing?

American AAdvantage and United Mileage Plus are credited with introducing the first elite programs. The AAdvantage Gold program was launched in 1987 to the approximately top two percent of flyers and with a budget of only $100,000. United Mileage Plus was the first program to introduce qualification thresholds- an idea that has become the industry norm. Most programs won’t reveal membership numbers or the percentage of members who are elite. It’s interesting to note that American AAdvantage admits to an elite membership that is only five percent of the program’s total membership while United says that fifteen percent of their members are elite. To give you an idea of what an average program elite level membership looks like, we’ll dissect those of United before their most recent additions — 535,000 Premier members, 239,000 Premier Executives and 46,000 1K’s. It looks slightly different when you add in the Global Services and Premier Associate members but the ratio is about the same.

Along the way, thousands of frequent flyers have discovered the thrill of getting their first elite-level membership card in the mail. But has the gold tarnished? Have flyers and the programs who serve them become jaded? Yes, perhaps. But through all the changes and challenges, ups and downs, the final result is the same: Elite programs are there to reward and express thanks to the most loyal customers and those customers in turn express their thanks with loyalty and hard-earned cash going to their chosen airline.

For this article, we are examining the elite programs of frequent flyer programs only — we will examine the elite programs of hotel programs and others in a future issue of InsideFlyer.

Who are the elite?
To become an elite member in a frequent flyer program, most programs have imposed thresholds — those magic numbers set by the airlines where members are awarded different levels of membership based on how many miles the flyer has collected.

Collecting miles is not the only way to become elite. For years, elite members have been lured away by competing airlines. Airlines have been known to match the elite level of their competitors. And frequent flyers have been known to ask airlines to match their elite level.

We posed questions to the frequent flyers who post at FlyerTalk.com and found that they generally do not ask for a match unless they are truly interested in flying the airline that matches their elite level — they want to make the best of the match and only ask for it when they know that it will do them the most good. About 50 percent of our FlyerTalkers said that a frequent flyer program has matched their elite status (we should mention here that we suspect this number is probably higher for FlyerTalk members than the average member in the program because of the wealth of information found on FlyerTalk about getting your elite status matched). Just over 5 percent said that when they asked they were turned down, and about 43 percent said that they have never asked. Not all programs will match elite but most will consider the requests on an individual basis and make their decisions by whatever means they consider fair — their criteria are generally not published. And some airlines have been known to match elite only after a frequent flyer shows good faith by flying their airline a set number of times. For tips on getting a status match, see the master thread in the FlyerTalk forum Miles&Points MilesBuzz!.

Our FlyerTalk research revealed that of the elite members who responded to our questions, 46 percent are elite in one frequent flyer program, 31 percent in two, 15 percent in three and 8 percent in four or more. (Note that these are elite members in frequent flyer programs only — not hotel programs.)

The percentage of those who are lifetime members in their chosen program is just over 20 percent, but keep in mind that this number can be misleading since not all programs offer a lifetime membership level.

Over the years, the way in which members earn miles to reach elite has changed. In the beginning, if you flew and were awarded miles for your flights, all those miles would count toward elite status. That policy can only be viewed as the good old days for today’s frequent flyer. Today’s flyer knows all too well that it takes elite qualifying miles (EQM) or elite qualifying segments (EQS) to earn elite status. These miles are also sometimes called status miles. Elite qualifying miles can be tied into the class of service a person flies — where deeply discounted fares might get you miles, but not count toward elite status; or miles will not count toward elite if they were earned flying a partner airline or through car rentals and other partners or other variables determined by the programs in their Terms and Conditions.

The EQMs have led way to special promotions such as US Airways “Anything Counts” promotion at the end of last year when earning miles for purchasing items at the US Airways online shopping mall counted toward elite when normally those miles would not.

What are the elite programs offering their members?
Frequent flyer programs are constantly evolving their elite offerings based on finances, feedback from members and what other programs are offering. Perks of elite membership can include upgrades, lounge access, bonus miles with every flight, additional miles earned with credit card purchases, guaranteed seating, early boarding, waitlist priority, exclusive awards, waived fees, priority check-in, preferred seating, VIP treatment and exclusive award inventory tools to help members get those sometimes elusive free tickets. North American elite programs differ from international programs where lounge access is more common. And members appreciate different benefits depending on the airline and their elite membership level.

Years ago, a good number of the programs offered threshold bonuses when a member obtained a certain membership level, or a set number of miles as an elite member. In American AAdvantage or United Mileage Plus, a member could earn up to 75,000 bonus miles a year in this way and in Delta SkyMiles and US Airways Dividend miles, 50,000 bonus miles. But in the late 1990s, threshold bonuses started disappearing. American and United ended these bonuses in 1997, US Airways followed in 1998 and Continental and Northwest in 1999. One by one, the airlines stopped giving threshold bonuses until today only Air Canada Aeroplan and Alaska Airlines Mileage Plan of the programs we looked at for this article offer threshold bonuses.

Why did they disappear? A number of reasons, such as the growing popularity of mileage runs. More significantly, threshold bonuses disappeared with the advent of airline alliances, which saw high flyers accelerating their mileage accumulation because they were less likely to have miles spread over several accounts.

Let’s remember that before the threshold bonuses disappeared, the programs were already giving away elite flight bonuses, in some cases 150 percent of the mileage flown. With threshold bonuses, it was not uncommon for a typical elite member to earn 300 percent of the actual miles flown.

For instance, with the AAdvantage threshold bonuses, members could earn up to 75,000 additional miles. They earned a 10,000 mile bonus after flying 35,000 miles, then an additional 10,000 mile bonus for every 10,000 miles flown afterward (45, 55, 65, 75,000 mile levels) and then finally a 25,000 mile bonus when they reached 100,000 miles flown. And don’t forget the normal elite bonus of 25 to 100 percent for all miles flown. The traveler flying 100,000 miles actually earned 275,000 miles total and that was just from being an elite level member. With the growing international networks of their flights, the miles were growing to astronomical heights. Keep in mind that when frequent flyer programs were introduced in 1981, American and United did not fly internationally so earning 100,000 miles domestically was quite a feat.

Also of note at this time, elite status was obtained at lower levels. For instance, Continental OnePass elite levels were reached at 20, 35 and 50,000 miles, meaning that members were earning threshold and other bonuses at an earlier point. Today, OnePass elite levels are at 25, 50 and 75,000 miles.

Through the years, the airlines have struggled with how to acknowledge not only the most frequent flyers, but also the highest spenders. Delta has a fourth tier for it’s high-paying customers, what they call an “under the radar” tier for a subset of the airline’s highest revenue-generating customers. These members were recently contacted by Delta through the mail. As Jim Rausa, an IT Program Manager from Wayne, PA, who was one of the members chosen for the fourth tier said, “All in all, I thought this was a great gesture on Delta’s part! Definitely a very nice, unexpected but VERY appreciated holiday gift.” United’s Global Services memberships are also by invitation only to its best customers.

A few programs offer lifetime memberships for those customers who have racked up more than a million miles. United offers its one-million milers lifetime Premier Executive status (the airline’s second-tier elite level) while American offers its one-million milers Gold status (the airline’s lowest-tier elite level) for life and those achieving two or more million program miles are awarded AAdvantage Platinum status (the airline’s second out of three tiers). Delta goes a step further offering those members who reach four million or more Medallion Qualification Miles a lifetime Platinum Medallion status (Delta’s highest elite tier). One million milers get Silver Medallion status (the lowest tier) and two million milers get Gold Medallion status (the second tier). Additionally, every time a customer reaches a new level of Million Miler status, they receive an exclusive gift by Hartmann Luggage. These policies can change without notice. Of the larger programs, Continental Airlines, Northwest Airlines and US Airways do not offer lifetime status.

What do frequent flyers want?
Last year, InsideFlyer’s Freddie Award for the best elite-level program went to Alaska Mileage Plan with Continental OnePass following closely, and Southwest Airlines Rapid Rewards not far behind. What’s interesting about this is that Southwest does not have a true elite program as most of us think of one — their approach is quite different. Southwest offers the Companion Pass program in which members become Companion Pass Holders when they earn 100 credits in a 12-month period. Companion Pass Holders may designate a companion who can accompany the member on any flight for free. The member may change their designated companion up to three times during the 12-month validity period of the pass.

In our mind, this demonstrates that elite programs don’t have to offer a laundry list of perks as long as the perk(s) is truly worthwhile to the customer. Having said that, the laundry list of perks is valued and, yes, expected, by a vast number of frequent flyers.

We took a very unscientific poll of the vocal and experienced frequent flyers who frequent FlyerTalk.com to see what frequent flyers appreciate and want in their elite program and this is some of what we found:

Among perks, the ability to upgrade wins hands down. The bonus miles an elite-level member receives as a benefit on qualifying flights follows. These perks are almost universally offered by elite programs. Upgrades are seen as the ultimate perk for many frequent flyers — everyone wants them and there’s a great deal of frustration on the part of elite members when they see their upgrades disappearing or becoming harder to use. “Don’t Mess with Upgrades” could very well be the frequent flyer’s motto.

After those two time-honored favorites, the list is divided between many different perks including preferred seating (many mentioning they appreciate an Exit-row seat, probably from those who are a good bit above six feet tall), early boarding and priority check-in. Lounge access is surprisingly low on the list, but we suspect that’s not so much a reflection of travelers indifference to the perk but rather the limited availability of free access through the North American programs. We also found that what the members expect and appreciate changes as they move through the different status levels — makes sense — the more they fly, the more they want benefits that allow them to travel in comfort. Kevin Hartmann of Dallas, who is an Executive Platinum in American AAdvantage echoed the thoughts of many of his fellow frequent flyers on FlyerTalk. When asked what he would ask the managers of his favorite frequent flyer program, he said. “If I could ask them one question, let it be this: I know that you are running a business, and the bottom line ultimately is important. To the business traveler, the experience of travel becomes a large part of life, and we endure in the hope that our loyalty will be rewarded by some comfort and respect. My question to them is how can you make 150,000 miles a year more comfortable and respectable, so that we do not defect to a career that will require no travel at all?”

Members of several programs mentioned that their favorite perk as an elite member is the general feeling of better service — that special VIP feeling that only comes with being elite.

As far as a wish list for members, other than the usual suspects of more/better upgrades, quite a few members of several programs would like to see one-way award options. As one flyer explained, there’s a large market of cruise passengers who would appreciate the flexibility.

Looking at the responses from members of the various programs, we put together the following list of “Have and most appreciate” and “Want.” We thank all the FlyerTalker members who gave us their opinion. Generally, the listings below list the most popular responses toward the top. We are not able to list all the responses here and have edited for clarity. For a full list, and to see the ongoing posts, see the FlyerTalk.com postings under the various frequent flyer program headings and search for the subject line “Elite-Level Members: Please Answer.”

Air Canada Aeroplan
Have and most appreciate:

Cawker City, Kan., may not be on the typical frequent flyer’s itinerary. But there’s something there that could teach a lesson.

Looming on the main drag of the tiny hamlet of 595 souls is a 9-ton monument to eccentricity - the world’s largest ball of twine.

The ball’s story began in 1953, when farmer Frank Stoeber, like thousands of his rural brethren, found it tidy and efficient to roll spare bits of sisal twine into a small ball in his barn. But over the years, instead of re-using or disposing of the twine, Frank kept rolling. By 1961, when he turned it over to the town, Stoeber had over 1,600,000 feet of twine rolled into a sphere 11 feet in diameter. He had spent hours every day, for nearly eight years, collecting, absorbing, and doing anything but using a very common, and perfectly useful commodity.

Stoeber’s creation, not to mention his obsession with creating it, may have something to teach about value, about persistence, and yes, even about frequent flyers.

Since the inception of frequent flyer programs in 1981, the practice of earning miles has grown from the pleasant perk of a few fortunate business travelers into cult-like endeavor for thousands of members (and the basis of more than one regular publication, we might add). Beginning in the 1990s, many of the most dedicated earners earned a nickname which they not only accepted, but embraced: “mileage junkie.”

WebFlyer.com, a Web site devoted exclusively to the world of miles and points, defines a mileage junkie as “a frequent flyer who obsessively accumulates miles and points, and often does not redeem many awards.” And there’s the rub: the junkie tends to hoard, and not spend.

The typical users of Webflyer.com, among them plenty of self-avowed junkies, have nearly 400,000 miles each sitting in their accounts, and 25 percent have at least 500,000 miles saved up.

They’re passionate about the miles and points game, and spend hours every week sharing strategies and triumphs with other junkies on message boards like FlyerTalk.com. They invented and continue to engage in the infamous “mileage run” - the practice of taking extra, unnecessary flights toward the end of each year in order to qualify for elite status for the following year.

They’ll set up absurd itineraries just to earn more miles. As one FlyerTalker put it, “You know you’re a mileage junkie when you convince your family that the best available flight from Washington D.C., to any city in Florida connects in Chicago.”

And for most junkies, that’s where the obsession ends. The vast majority of mileage hobbyists burn almost as many miles as they earn every year. When you consider that the average WebFlyer user redeemed between three and four awards last year, and that the “cheapest” award ticket tends to run about 25,000 miles, even the elite flyers (who routinely rack up 100,000 miles in a year) are going through almost as many miles as they earn.

But where are the rest?

Travelers have amassed over 4 trillion miles between credit cards, hotels and airlines, according frequent-flyer guru Randy Petersen. “If everyone cashed in all their miles tomorrow, the American public could fly free for about 37 days,” he estimates.

Of these trillions, it would appear that millions seem to be stocked up in a relatively few accounts.

For some flyers, like Jeff T., the process itself is most of the fun.

“It’s not really about redeeming them,” says the consultant from Pennsylvania. “I guess I consider it like a retirement fund, but haven’t thought much about how I’d spend it. Right now, it’s about how I can get past that next 100,000-mile milestone.”

Jeff isn’t alone. Posters on FlyerTalk.com toss around their elite status and mileage-earning statistics the way football players boast about bench presses. There’s a palpable sense of one-upsmanship in the frequent flyer community, making the thought of amassing millions of miles that much more enticing.

But how much is too much? When does a hobby become an obsession?

According to some, it already has. Writer and travel expert Chris Elliott has actually called for a ban on frequent flyer miles precisely because of their addictive nature.

He recalls the experiences of two flyers. One, an information systems consultant from Denver, wanted a free ticket so badly that he went with an itinerary that called for layover in Minneapolis on the way from Albuquerque, N.M., to Orlando. Another, a project manager in California, has permanently reworked his typical route from San Francisco to Philadelphia in order to stop by Houston to collect more points.

On his Web site, Elliott.org, Elliot claims that fewer than 10 percent of travel-related rewards points are redeemed every year. “That’s probably because turning the miles into tickets is often impossible with all the blackout dates and restrictions that are placed on them,” he says.

He describes the programs themselves as “pushers,” and members as “strung-out” by the frequently false promise of free travel. Elliot points to programs like Southwest’s Rapid Rewards as examples of “healthier” programs. Without elite status to worry about, and credits that expire yearly, there’s simply less to obsess about.

Not surprisingly, Elliott’s proposal has not met with much support among mileage junkies. But again and again, he points to anecdotal evidence that there are flyers out there who seem to have lost control of their habit. They collect, and fly, and re-route, and play expensive games of aces-high with fistfuls of mileage-earning credit cards.

But why collect miles?

Aside from the obvious answer - that miles mean “free” trips - why go to the trouble? And, in the case of the mileage junkie, why do it if you don’t intend to spend them?

Why collect anything at all?

Psychology professor Gordon Emslie at Toronto’s Ryerson University says that there is no conclusive explanation for why people collect obsessively. He cites several theories - biological and psychological - but says none has been conclusive in explaining the phenomenon. The biological aspect suggests that there is something in our genes that makes us vulnerable to hoarding stuff to an extreme extent. Prof. Emslie cites studies that have shown a brain abnormality of those who have this compulsion, but says that many people have such abnormalities and don’t have this problem.

Then there is Freud’s theory that links obsessive collecting to childhood and the potty-training period. Parents force their children to train their bodies to accommodate a certain schedule, and then the child’s output is promptly discarded, suggesting that what they have produced is of no value; in fact, it is abhorrent and needs to be gotten rid of. According to Freud, adult obsessive collectors are merely hoarding things because they were accustomed to things being taken away from them during this potty-training period.

But resorting to Freud may be a bit of stretch to explain the mileage junkie phenomenon.

Still, Emslie goes on to say that some obsessive collectors may, in fact, suffer from a subset of obsessive compulsive personality disorder. Obsessive collectors who can’t control themselves from the next purchase and who become so attached to their collection that they can’t function in the outside world might do so, Emslie says, because they feel a lack of power in their lives. “You might not be able to control something in your life, but at least you can control something like your stamp collection, for example,” he explains.

Fellow Ryerson professor David Day agrees. “[Obsessive collecting] gets in the way of doing daily functions,” he says. “Those who don’t collect in this pathological way would be able to pass up on buying another item, but those with an obsessive compulsive personality disorder could not. It would bother them so much that they just couldn’t let it go.”

Compare that statement with this candid admission from a FlyerTalker who (with tongue firmly planted in cheek) said proof of junkie status was when “You are in a store and see an item you want, then run home to buy the item online to get the miles, even though you were five feet from the item in the store.”

Both Day and Emslie stress that collecting is a perfectly normal thing that reaches a negative connotation only when collectors can no longer control their actions. Everyone collects, in some form or another, both professors say, and it’s often done to surround oneself with things that are familiar. We are a culture of collectors, from baseball cards to teapots. Human beings have always felt the need to hunt, gather, and store.

Of course, no one is necessarily suggesting that your typical mileage junkie is one step from a room with padded wallpaper. Still, compulsive collecting behavior can be a problem.

The Bio-Behavioral Institute, a private treatment center in New York, describes a phenomenon known as “Compulsive Hoarding,” a complex psychological disorder that can significantly disrupt a person’s life:

“Hoarding occurs when a person acquires and saves possessions that have either little or no value (or have some perceived value), and the person then has great difficulty in discarding their possessions. Hoarding behavior can often lead to other problems. Often associated with OCD, OCPD and depression, hoarding can affect people’s lives across all levels of functioning, It is common for hoarders to have interpersonal difficulties, family tension, poor self-esteem, poor social skills, weak decision-making skills, occupational issues, and even legal issues. In addition, there are physical risks, such as falls and fires within the home environment.”

Of course the institute, and almost all studies related to compulsive hoarding, make the assumption that the object of a collector’s obsession is just that - an object. Most case studies involve newspapers, old clothing, bags, books, mail, notes, and lists.

Abstract concepts like miles have yet to be considered, largely because they pose no direct health risk. Your Mileage Plus account won’t pose a fire hazard, for example.

But many of the behaviors associated with compulsive hoarding are evident in the mileage junkie phenomenon.

Among the various characteristics of compulsive hoarding are collecting more than what’s needed; guilt or embarrassment about collecting; and high levels of anxiety when discarding or using the collected item.

Collecting More Than What’s Needed

What’s “needed?” The answer to that question is as individual as frequent flyers themselves. But let’s take a look at what a million miles could buy. One million miles is 40 economy-class trips in the U.S.; 13 first-class roundtrips to Hawaii; or 3.5 trips around the world.

Is any one person going to use that kind of travel? Of course. There are plenty of perfectly normal folks who look at a giant mileage nest egg as free travel for retirement, or a means to shuttle extended family around the world.

But again, some hard-core junkies consider the potential travel possibilities only in the abstract, if at all. In the case of Jeff T., for example, an actual “spending” plan is the furthest thing from his mind. So for the present, at least, many junkies clearly have more miles than they can even anticipate “needing.”

Guilt or Embarrassment

A hallmark of obsessive collectors is a feeling of guilt or embarrassment about their hobby. According to experts, hoarding tends to create a snowball effect: the collector is too ashamed to seek help, and thus allows the compulsion to grow.

Here’s where mileage junkies seem to buck the trend, at least publicly. Far from being ashamed, most wear their compulsion as a badge of pride. “Not at all,” said one FlyerTalker when asked about embarrassment. “Not everyone gets it, and that’s fine. I mean, I can bore people with my speeches and lectures, but if I do, I just shut up. I’m not ashamed. I get free stuff - who’d be ashamed of that?”

But guilt may make an end-around when it comes to mileage junkies.

A recent study at Stanford Business School examined how the amount of effort consumers must expend to get a reward - how many miles, points, or purchases they must accumulate - affects the types of rewards they prefer. The study found that the more effort required, the more consumer preferences shifted from necessity rewards, such as a grocery or gasoline voucher, to luxury items, such as spa certificates, gourmet dinners, or cruises.

The research was based on surveys of 3,100 consumers. Participants were asked to choose among different rewards or decide whether they would join various frequency programs. All were based on actual programs, including a car rental program, a department store program, and an online shopping scheme. Various participants were offered different program requirements: 10 versus 20 car rentals, $2,500 versus $5,000 in store purchases, or 12 versus 24 online purchases. In all three cases, more consumers chose luxury items when program requirements were high. For example, when the frequent Internet shopper program required only 12 online purchases to receive a reward, 51 percent of the participants chose the luxury item. But among those who were told they had to make 24 online purchases for a reward, 73 percent chose the luxury. “Consumers seem to feel more entitled to luxury goods when they ‘earn’ the right to indulge by exerting effort,” said co-author Ran Kivetz.

In examining the psychology behind their findings, the researchers discovered that guilt about consuming luxury items plays an important role in consumer preference toward rewards. Participants in one survey rated themselves in terms of how guilty they felt about purchasing luxury items in general. The effect of effort on which rewards were chosen was strongest among people who reported the most guilt about purchasing luxuries. It was also stronger among consumers who said their efforts to earn rewards were usually made in the context of work rather than pleasure, such as renting a car for work rather than vacation. “Some people need to justify luxuries,” said Stanford professor Itamar Simonson. “They feel guilty, and investing more effort in the program helps them reduce this guilt.”

Is award travel a “luxury?” Not if you’ve spent any time in coach lately, it’s not. But junkies scoff at economy class. “I never redeem for coach,” says Jeff T. “You’ re too invested in elite status, perks, upgrades.”

High Anxiety

What constitutes “high anxiety” may best be left to the likes of licensed professionals and Mel Brooks. But according to psychologist Fred Penzel, “One of the main reasons for hoarding is a fear that if things are thrown away, they will almost certainly be needed one day, but will be gone for good. This loss will then lead to some kind of serious hardship or deprivation.” Penzel ascribes the fear to the chronic doubt inherent in many obsessive-compulsive disorders.

Without making any sweeping assumptions about frequent flyers and OCD, however, it’s still perfectly true to say that some junkies feel intense anxiety if and when it’s time to cash in.

“It’s silly, I know,” said Allen F., an IT professional from California. “I don’t know if I’d call it anxiety, but you kind of hate to see them go. Even though I know I’ll earn them back.”

Allen suggests the loss of miles isn’t the only factor. Like many FlyerTalkers, he admits he’s “competitive” about the miles game, and doesn’t relish the idea of losing ground to more miserly hobbyists. “You’ve got people you’ve been competing with for a year or so - who found the better deal, who did this and that - and you don’t want to admit you cashed in, especially if it’s for some humdrum economy-class trip.”

Allen has a solution for that. “I just don’t tell,” he said.

What’s the Problem?

There isn’t one, necessarily.

Even Chris Elliott, who refers to miles as the “crack cocaine of the industry,” couldn’t find a psychologist who’d call junkiedom a problem. Kathleen Mojas, a clinical psychologist in Beverly Hills, Calif., told Elliott, “I think that in general, collecting airline miles represents a socially acceptable addiction. It isn’t a problem that requires treatment unless it’s interfering with your life.”
Mojas suggests three ways to tell if a problem exists. First, if you are booking long detours that take away from time spent with your family, you may be hooked. If you’re spending money you don’t have in order to collect miles, it may be time to self-evaluate. And finally, “if you spend money just to get the miles, you may have a problem,” says Mojas.

Spending money, of course, is not quite the same as putting all your spending on a mileage-earning card. Since most such cards require a paid balance for mileage to be recorded, junkies are almost religious about paying their bills on time.

Neither should mileage junkies worry too much about not having a specific plan for their hoard. Mark R., a sociologist himself, says the goal of saving millions of miles isn’t necessarily a bad thing, even if the junkie has no specific idea what to do with the miles. “It’s a hobby like any hobby,” he says. “You don’t ask a model train enthusiast what he plans to get at the end. In fact, it may not even be a good idea to plan ahead too far in advance. Award levels change, programs change, people change. Have fun with it.”

Most psychologists agree that a hobby, even a compulsive one, isn’t really a problem unless family, friends or work are negatively affected. And most mileage junkies will tell you that the tips and tricks they’ve picked up along the way have made for better work and family relationships. Leslie T., of Massachusetts, says the mileage portion of her travel habits is minimal. “My husband and I have to fly on business anyway. A few hours spent on a roundabout way home doesn’t really impact it. And we’ve been able to take the kids places we wouldn’t otherwise be able to afford.”

Mark R. agrees. “It’s all about time management, really,” he says, “and most business travelers are pretty good about that anyway.”

In the final analysis, the claim of mileage “addiction” is, in almost all cases, simple hyperbole to describe what is an increasingly popular hobby. And if denial can be a strong indication of addiction, it’s instructive to look at just how many mileage junkies will shout their “addiction” from the rooftops.

And while banks of miles may be worth more to the confirmed “addict” than the average earth-bound joe, value is ultimately in the eyes of the beholder. What appears to some to be a nonsensical waste of effort can be a source of pride and entertainment to others.

Frank Stoeber and the citizens of Cawker City might agree.

In my long-ago corporate days, when we were ruled by guilt and anxiety and card-carrying members of Workaholics Anonymous (two-ulcer men in three-ulcer jobs), the notion of a sabbatical, or time out, was a cruel joke. Sabbaticals were for tenured business school professors, or freshly fired vice presidents, floating down to earth on golden parachutes; or the silver-haired rich with time on their hands. (Hell, we did not dare take our annual two-week vacation. You were stressed out and got on with it.)

Fast-forward to today with news that a new wave of young stressed-out executives in their late 20’s to early 30’s has joined the 16 to 24 year-olds, who see traveling around the world in the ‘gap-year’ as a last chance to take time out before starting work, or before or after college; often seen as a ‘rite of passage’ before settling into a career.

This is the finding of a survey of 2,013 British executives, aged 26 to 34, carried out by YouGov on behalf of the Bradford & Bingley building society, the second largest in the country.

Nigel Asplin, group general insurance director at Bradford & Bingley, says, ‘Traveling has become increasingly popular at an age when life itself has become a “stress zone.” People are using extended breaks to relieve work pressure. Having worked for a few years, they feel they deserve it.’

Nearly half of adults (49 percent) believe that the best time to travel is once one has some life experience, rather than during their student years; 46 percent see extended breaks as the chance to review their lifestyle and attitudes.

While this group would obviously have more money than students for travel, half still intend to do it in ‘backpacker’ style, staying in cheap accommodation and having a daily food budget while still enjoying sports and cultural activities. However, there are some trappings of their affluent lifestyle they wouldn’t leave behind: 81 percent would take their digital camera with them, 18 percent their iPOD and 17 percent their PalmPilot. Most popular destinations include Australia and New Zealand, Canada, United States, and South America.

Brett Shepperson, 32, left his job, building a mobile phone network, leveraged his mortgage, and with the #25,000 proceeds took off with his girlfriend for a year traveling around the world, spending an average of four weeks in 13 countries. They scuba dived in the Galapagos Islands, skied in Argentina, and climbed the Cotopaxi mountain in Ecuador. A high point was a Spanish language school in Quito, Ecuador, where they met a rich mix of people, teachers, executives, writers…

‘I came back a different person, more confident, more laid-back, new perspective and mental well-being,’ Shepperson says. ‘I have a new job now as telecom project manager in Norwich.’

Fiona Smith and Justin Harvey gave up their jobs and a joint income of #60,000 to backpack across South America for six months, traveling through Ecuador, Peru and Bolivia. While they are on a tight budget, they still plan to splurge occasionally. Harvey, who has worked as an IT consultant in London for eight years, looks for respite and ‘a different pace of life’ for a while.

I should be so lucky. I’ll settle for a sabbatical long week-end.

More than four out of ten (43 percent) of affluent Americans (those with household incomes in excess of $150,000) took at least one international leisure trip last year, according to the ‘2004 Portrait of Affluent Travelers’ published by Yesawich, Peppardine, Brown and Russell in Orlando, Florida, co-publishers with Yankelovich Partners of the Business Travel Monitor.

Western Europe tops the list of places visited by a wide margin (82 percent). Within Europe, the preferred destinations are Italy (33 percent), England (28 percent) and France (20 percent). The Caribbean is the favorite, with nearly 20 percent of respondents; followed by Mexico (16 percent); Australia (15 percent); the Far East (13 percent); South/Central America (11 percent); Canada (10 percent); South Pacific (9 percent); the Middle East (5 percent) and Africa (4 percent).

Thailand and Singapore ranked top among countries visited by Asian travelers in the first half of 2004, according to the MasterIndex of Travel, a survey of 6,000 travelers in 13 markets across the Asia-Pacific region, conducted by MasterCard International.

Both countries were the top regional destinations for 16 percent of respondents with China coming in third at 13 percent. But China (23 percent) was the most frequently visited country for business travel, followed by Singapore (16 percent) and Hong Kong (13 percent).

British Airways claims to be the first airline in the UK to enable passengers who check-in online to print their own boarding pass at home or in the office. The pass, printed on A4 paper, carries a bar-code containing flight details. Passengers with hand baggage only go direct to security, where their bar-code is checked with a scanner, by-passing the need to go to a check-in desk or a self-service check-in kiosk. Passengers with bags to check in can use a ‘fast baggage drop.’

The scheme began as a trial a month ago at London City where forty-seven percent of BA passengers checking-in on-line are choosing to print their own boarding passes. The scheme has been extended to certain flights from Heathrow and Manchester. BA says it plan to roll out the service across most of its global network within the next 18 months.

Executive Club members can check-in at www.ba.com 24 hours and other passengers 12 hours before departure.

The Mileage Converter, a new tool from the stable of FFP guru Randy Peterson’s Frequent Flyer Services, at the WebFlyer.com site shows frequent travelers how to transfer miles, kilometers or points between any two programs. Users select a program they would like to transfer miles out of, enter the mileage amount they would like to transfer, and select a program into which they would like to transfer the miles, and the Mileage Converter finds all possible ways to make the transaction, indicating the ‘conversion rate’ for the miles/points between both programs.

To be a happy frequent flyer, you must belong to the program that fits you best. Status? Awards? Promotions? They are all there, you just need to know which programs offer what. This is the first part of a two-part series designed to get you thinking about the program you currently belong to and how close it comes to being your ideal program.

We hear from countless readers looking for things they simply won’t find with their current program of choice. Take, for instance, the hundreds of US Airways Dividend Miles members we heard from in the early days of that program, each and every one irate because they couldn’t use their miles to fly to Hawaii. If Hawaii is truly your award redemption goal, why oh why join a program associated with an airline that doesn’t fly there? (Of course, US Airways has, from time to time, partnered with other airlines that do fly to Hawaii, so many of those irate members eventually lucked out.)

There is no doubt a significant number of members of these programs belong as members of convenience, not members of research. It’s rare for a member to think about the reasons they belong to a particular frequent flyer program. Many pick a program because their company has a deal with an airline, and stick with that program long after they’ve left the company. Others simply fly the airline they always used to fly as a kid on family vacations. Whatever your reason for choosing your frequent flyer program, it’s never too late to re-evaluate the situation and start fresh if need be.

Being a member of any type of group or organization says something about you as an individual. If you belong to AAA, you are likely responsible and organized, for example. NRA members tend to be conservative and independent. Members of the PTA, practical and hands-on.

Frequent flyer program membership is no different. The program you belong to says something about who you are as a person, whether you like it or not.

Let’s begin this journey with a couple of fun personality quizzes.

Find the statement below that fits you and compare your answers to our “correct” answers to find out if the way you view yourself as a frequent flyer is on par with the way other frequent flyers view you.

And remember, this is all for fun.

1. If you belong to the US Airways Dividend Miles program, you are:
   A. Reliable, dependable, but perhaps slightly boring.
   B. Vivacious, outgoing, in need of attention.
   C. Reserved, cautious, slightly mistrusting of others.
   D. Deranged, a danger to yourself and the frequent flyer community at large.
   (Correct Answer: A - Dividend Miles plays it as safe as possible.)
2. If you belong to the Southwest Rapid Rewards program, you want people to see you as:
   A. Someone devoted to the earth.
   B. Someone devoted to the accumulation of miles.
   C. Someone devoted to making smart decisions.
   D. Someone devoted to Kermit the Frog.
   (Correct Answer: C - Southwest Rapid Rewards membership shows that you’re down-to-earth and reasoned, looking for a bit of free travel but really making the practical choice.)
3. If you belong to the Delta SkyMiles program, you are:
   A. Someone who is madly in love with himself or herself.
   B. Someone who wants a little attention but is more interested in a pleasurable travel experience.
   C. Someone who just wants to be left alone.
   D. Someone who just wants a burger and fries when flying.
   (Correct Answer: B — This program is certainly an attention getter, but not the flashiest of the lot. It signals a desire for benefits as much as, if not more than, a desire for awards.)
4. If you belong to the Starwood Preferred Guest program, you are:
   A. Someone who wants to tell the world how serious you are.
   B. Someone who wants to tell the world how secure you are.
   C. Someone who wants to tell the world about 1-800-Collect.
   D. Someone who wants to tell the world how fun loving you are.
   (Correct Answer: D — This is the program for someone who truly enjoys points, and is in it for the fun of it.)
5. If you belong to the United Mileage Plus program and always ask about Star Alliance benefits, you’re telling the world:
   A. Whatever I do, I do it up really big.
   B. Whatever I do, I do for a good cause (hey buddy, can you spare a dime?).
   C. Whatever I do, I do only after consulting my therapist.
   D. Whatever I do, I do it for you.
   (Correct Answer: A — This program is for those who refuse to think small.)
6. If you belong to the JetBlue TrueBlue program, you are:
   A. More interested in the color blue than in benefits.
   B. More interested in being cared for than in the miles game.
   C. More interested in baseball than football.
   D. More interested in Christina Aguilera than Britney Spears.
   (Correct Answer: B — This is a program for those seeking safety, security and service, but not necessarily the best benefits.)
7. If you belong to the Silver Elite level of Continental’s OnePass, you are probably:
   A. Really insecure and need to let everyone around you know how powerful you are.
   B. Can enjoy the crushing wail of Metallica and the soothing sounds of Yo-Yo Ma on the same iPod play list.
   C. Really vulnerable right now, but would prefer not to talk about it.
   D. Think you were a silver baron in a former life.
   (Correct Answer: A — OnePass is a program with a history of greatness, but Silver Elite almost says, “Just kidding.”)
8. If you belong to Frontier’s EarlyReturns program, you are:
   A. Trying to look economical, but you’re really foolhardy with miles.
   B. Trying to look nonchalant, but you actually earn miles from dining out.
   C. Trying to look like a High Flier, but you’re really a Mile Monk.
   D. Trying to look smart, but are really a cheapskate.
   (Correct Answer: D — Surely you could have at least tried United’s Ted, no?)
9. If you belong to the Hilton HHonors program, you are:
   A. Bubbly, but hiding a deep depression.
   B. Suspicious of others, but trying to look open to new experiences.
   C. Fun loving, but trying to relive the past.
   D. Republican, but trying to look like a Democrat.
   (Correct Answer: C — HHonors is an awesome program, but the past is still the past.)
10. If you belong to AAdvantage Executive Platinum, Delta’s Million Miler program and United’s 1K program, you:
    A. Delight in waving your status in other people’s faces.
    B. Have far too many miles.
    C. Never really understood the concept of “loyalty.”
    D. Go to the limits to show your elite status to the world.
    (Trick question — all the answers are correct. Now give it a rest, showoff!)

That was fun, wasn’t it?

Well, maybe more fun for some than others.

Now you have a little more insight into how your program reflects on you. Admittedly, it’s not much insight, but we never claimed to be Freud here.

But that still doesn’t tell you whether or not your current program of choice is best suited to your wants and needs. To do that, you’ll have to take our next, much more serious and scientific, quiz. Well, ok, it’s actually neither serious nor scientific, unless your idea of science includes a good bottle of wine and a Ouija board. Still, it’s fun, and if you complete it we can help you determine which program will make you the happiest.

1. If 200,000 frequent flyer miles came to me unexpectedly, my first impulse would be:
   A. To redeem them on awards I really want, including awards for others.
   B. To save them for the proverbial “rainy day.”
   C. To feel so overwhelmed that I’d put off making any decisions about their use.
   D. Analyze their use to project the greatest value from them.
   E. To give most of them away to charity and use them to make the world a better place.
2. When it comes to dealing with my miles:
   A. I make sure that they never influence my travel or spending decisions.
   B. I enjoy redeeming them for myself and others, and enjoy traveling to destinations that will give me immediate pleasure.
   C. I worry about them a lot and strategize how to make better use of them.
   D. I hold on to them and enjoy thinking about what I can do with them some time in the future.
   E. I try not to think about them, they’re just miles.
3. My goals for my miles are:
   A. To save enough of them so that I never have to worry about paying for travel later in life.
   B. Unclear to me.
   C. To have enough of them to ensure that I never fly in coach again.
   D. To cover most of the travel costs of my next vacation, whenever that may be.
   E. To earn as many of them as possible, as quickly as possible.
4. When it comes to spending miles:
   A. I hope I’ll have enough miles to take care of unexpected trips.
   B. I enjoy spending miles, as long as I keep accumulating them at the same time.
   C. I’d rather save my miles than spend them. Spending miles makes me nervous.
   D. I don’t track where my miles go, and I don’t want to. I focus on more important aspects of my life.
   E. I love spending miles, and I tend to spend more than I earn (zero statement balance).
5. When it comes to saving miles:
   A. I know I ought to be saving miles for emergency travel, but I never seem to get around to it.
   B. I enjoy saving large amounts of miles and spend a lot of time and energy thinking about how to save more (my travel IRA).
   C. I have trouble saving miles, and this bothers me sometimes.
   D. I save miles only for absolute necessities.
   E. Saving miles comes naturally to me. I am regular and consistent about it.
6. When I’m feeling down in the dumps, redeeming my miles:
   A. Is the last thing I would do; earning more miles might lift my spirits.
   B. Always cheers me up.
   C. Just makes me feel worse. Redeeming miles has nothing to do with happiness.
   D. Is not what I think about to cheer myself up.
   E. In large amounts, and hatching plans to earn more miles, makes me feel better.
7. I worry about my miles:
   A. Never. I worry about important things.
   B. A little bit all the time. But I do all I can to manage them well.
   C. Constantly. It’s the main thing I worry about!
   D. Only when financial crises of the airlines strike.
   E. Not very much. I just enjoy spending them.
8. When I think about providing for my future travels:
   A. I am quite concerned that I won’t have enough miles in my future, since it’s been so hard for me to earn them.
   B. I have such a difficult time thinking about miles that all I can do is hope that my travel will take care of itself.
   C. Since I make sure I have a lot of miles in my ‘mileage bank,’ the future will probably be fine.
   D. Considering how systematic I’ve been about saving my miles, I feel reasonably confident about them.
   E. I don’t think about the future in travel terms. I have more important concerns, such as my quality of life at home.
9. If I won a million miles in a promotion, my first reaction would be:
   A. To feel guilty, thinking about other frequent flyers who have far fewer miles.
   B. To feel shocked, a little overwhelmed, and very relieved that my future travel plans were now secure.
   C. To be totally overwhelmed — I would have no idea what to use them for.
   D. To be very happy and pleased, and to immediately start thinking about how I could value my miles and use them for my own enjoyment.
   E. To be wildly excited, realizing that from now on I could go anywhere in the world I wanted.
10. To feel totally satisfied with my miles, this is what I’d need:
    A. A few thousand more than I have now in my main program.
    B. To increase my mileage earnings by a large amount every year — 50,000 a year more would be nice!
    C. More miles, but I have no idea how many more.
    D. Nothing. I feel pretty satisfied with what I have earned so far. A big increase would make me feel uncomfortable.
    E. At least 500,000 to 750,000 more miles than I have total right now.

Were you able to answer them all? Great.

But you’ll have to wait for the results — we told you early on this was part one of a two-part series, remember?

In this part, you’ve learned a little about how the frequent flyer world views you and you’ve provided some information about what you want out of this whole frequent flying game. While we’ve had some fun in the process, you have hopefully learned a little more about what you want as a frequent flyer, and how that might differ from what you are currently getting out of your program. If you have noticed a disparity between what you want and what you have, don’t despair — it can happen to anyone and it doesn’t mean there is anything wrong with you, well not anything that can’t be fixed anyway.

In part two we’ll actually provide you with a scoring mechanism to match your goals with the features of a particular program, and you’ll be well on your way to a lifetime of frequent flyer bliss — at least, that is, until the programs make another round of changes.

Sure, it’s frustrating now, but just imagine how exciting it will be when it all comes together and you meet, perhaps for the first time, the program that fits you like a finely tailored suit. And please, try to imagine all of this before you compile a hastily written letter to the editor complaining about the unfairness of making a reader take a quiz only to promise results in the next issue.

See you next month with the results.

“Up In The Air,” a new novel from author Walter Kirn, has become an instant cult classic among the mileage junkies who inhabit the unique, and often times absurd, world of miles and points.

Ryan Bingham is the frequent flyer at the center of this story - and he is one of us. He sits next to us as we navigate the demands of our business travel and our need to earn frequent flyer miles. Ryan makes his living as a career transition counselor (read: He professionally fires people), but he also lives a parallel life trying to accumulate one million frequent flyer miles.

For many of us, this product of fiction will read like a non-fiction diary. In fact, readers may well be forced to read the book twice - once to savor the color commentary on life as a frequent flyer and the familiar references to things we endure in our own quest for the holy grail, and a second time to enjoy the story line.

Like riding a raft in the ocean, Kirn’s book gently moves the reader from crest to crest of Ryan’s quest, yet never neglects the troughs in between. We share in Ryan’s ecstasy over seeing his miles post after completing his final push: a fiendishly difficult itinerary of eight cities and countless meetings in just six days mixing business, pleasure, and family duties. He’s convinced he can pull things off, conditions permitting-and there, of course, is the catch. Weather problems. Maintenance foul-ups. Needy seatmates. Mysterious credit card glitches. Deepening guilt for his professional sins. The persistent sense that someone is paging him over the airport loudspeaker. Through it all, though, Ryan Bingham points his compass at true north: one million miles. Six zeroes and a one. And you, the reader, follow along like a travel companion, experiencing all the joys and sorrows that are par for the frequent flyer course.

This excerpt from the novel will give you a taste what you are in store for:

“Finally, someone has come up with a name for it. “I call it Airworld; the scene, the place, the style,” Ryan says. ”My hometown papers are USA Today and The Wall Street Journal. The big-screen Panasonics in the club rooms broadcast all the news I need, with an emphasis on the markets and the weather. My literature — yours, too, I see — is the best seller or the near-best seller, heavy on themes of espionage, high finance and the goodness of common people in small towns. In Airworld, I’ve found, the passions and enthusiasms of the outlying society are concentrated and whisked to a stiff froth. When a new celebrity is minted in the movie theaters or ballparks, this is where the story breaks — on the vast magazine racks that form a sort of trading floor for public reputations and pretty faces. I find it possible here, as nowhere else, to think of myself as part of the collective that prices the long bond and governs necktie widths. Airworld is a nation within a nation, with its own language, architecture, mood and even its own currency — the token economy of airline bonus miles that I’ve come to value more than dollars. Inflation doesn’t degrade them. They’re not taxed. They’re private property in its purest form.”

“Up in the Air” is the first - and will surely remain the best - novel about one man’s quest to accumulate one million frequent flyer miles. From the opening chapter to the closing sentence, this is a witty chronicle of life as a frequent flyer. And, while millions of us share in this quirky yet consuming pastime, it took Walter Kirn to expose our behaviors and to make a brilliant social observation in the process.
As a frequent flyer myself, there’s one last thing I can say when reviewing this book: I’ve read it, I’ve flown it, I’ve earned it, I’ve upgraded it, and I’ve lived it. I am this book.

CHAPTER ONE
Up in the Air, By WALTER KIRN
Doubleday

To know me you have to fly with me. Sit down. I’m the aisle, you’re the window–trapped. You crack your paperback, last spring’s big legal thriller, convinced that what you want is solitude, though I know otherwise: you need to talk. The jaunty male flight attendant brings our drinks: a two percent milk with one ice cube for me, a Wild Turkey for you. It’s wet outside, the runways streaked and dark. Late afternoon. The first-class cabin fills with other businessmen who switch on their laptops and call up lengthy spreadsheets or use the last few moments before takeoff to punch in cell-phone calls to wives and clients. Their voices are bright but shallow, no diaphragms, their sentences kept short to save on tolls, and when they hang up they face the windows, sigh, and reset their watches from Central time to Mountain. For some of them this means a longer day, for others it means eating supper before they’re hungry. One fellow lowers his plastic window shade and wedges his head between two skimpy pillows, while another unlatches his briefcase, looks inside, then shuts his eyes and rubs his jaw, exhausted.

Your own work is done, though, temporarily. All week you’ve been out hustling, courting hot prospects in franchised seafood bars and steering a rented Intrepid along strange streets that didn’t match the markings in your atlas. You gave it your all, and for once your all was good enough to placate a boss who fears for his own job. You’ve stashed your tie in your briefcase, freed your collar, and slackened your belt a notch or two. To breathe. Just breathing can be such a luxury sometimes.

“Is that the one about the tax-fraud murders? I’m hearing his plots aren’t what they used to be.”

You stall before answering, trying to discourage me. To you, I’m a type. A motormouth. A pest. You’re still getting over that last guy, LA to Portland, whose grandson was just admitted to Stanford Law. A brilliant kid, and a fine young athlete, too, he started his own business as a teen computerizing local diaper services–though what probably clinched his acceptance was his charity work; the kid has a soft spot for homeless immigrants, which pretty much describes all of us out west, though some are worse off than others. We’re the lucky ones.

“I’m on page eleven,” you say. “The plot’s still forming.”

“It hit number four on the Times list.”

“Don’t read that paper.”

“You live in Denver? Going home?”

“I’m trying.”

“Tell me about it. Nothing but delays.”

“Foul weather at one of the hubs.”

“Their classic line.”

“I guess they don’t take us for much

these days.”

“Won’t touch that. Interesting news about the Broncos yesterday.”

“Pro football’s a farce.”

“I can’t say I disagree.”

“Millionaires and felons–these athletes sicken me. I do enjoy hockey, though. Hockey I don’t hate.”

“That’s the Canadian influence,” I say.

“It ameliorates the materialism.”

“In English?”

“I talk big when I’m tired. Professor gasbag. Sorry. I like hockey, too.”

The atom was split by persistence; you relax. We go on chatting, impersonally at first, but then, once we’ve realized all we have in common–our moderate politics, our taste in rental cars, our feeling that the American service industry had better shape up soon or face a crisis–a warmth wells up, a cozy solidarity. You recommend a hotel in Tulsa; I tip you off to a rib joint in Fort Worth. The plane heads into a cloud, it bucks and shudders. Nothing like turbulence to cement a bond. Soon, you’re telling me about your family. Your daughter, the high school gymnast. Your lovely wife. She’s gone back to work and you’re not so sure you like this, though her job is only part time and may not last. Another thing you dislike is traveling. The pissy ticket agents. The luggage mix-ups. The soft hotel mattresses that twist your spine. You long for a windfall that will let you quit and pursue your great hobby: restoring vintage speedboats. The water–that’s where you’re happiest. The lake.

Now it’s my turn. I make a full report. Single, but on the lookout–you never know, the woman in 3B might be my soul mate. Had a wife once, the prospect of a family, but I knew her mostly through phone calls across time zones. Grew up in Minnesota, in the country; father owned a fleet of propane trucks and served as a Democrat in two state legislatures, pressing a doomed agricultural agenda while letting his business slip. Parents split while I was in college, an eastern hippie school–picture a day care run by Ph.D.’s–and when I got home there was nothing to come back to, just lawyers and auctioneers and accusations, some of them true but few of them important. My first job was in computers. I sold memory, the perfect product, since no one has enough of it and everyone fears some competitor has more. Now I work as a management consultant, minoring in EET (Executive Effectiveness Training) and majoring–overwhelmingly, unfortunately–in CTC (Career Transition Counseling), which is a fancy term for coaching people to understand job loss as an opportunity for personal and spiritual growth. It’s a job I fell into because I wasn’t strong, and grew to tolerate because I had to, then suddenly couldn’t stand another hour of. My letter of resignation is on the desk of a man who will soon return from a long fishing trip. What I’ll do after he reads it, I don’t know. I’m intrigued by a firm called MythTech; they’ve put out feelers. I have other logs in the fire, but no flames yet. Until my superior flies back from Belize, I work out of Denver for ISM, Integrated Strategic Management. You’ve heard of Andersen? Deloitte & Touche? We’re something like them, though more diversified. “The Business of Business,” we say. Impressed me too, once.

As the hour passes and the meal comes (you try the Florentine chicken, I take the steak, and neither of us goes near the whipped dessert), the intimacy we develop is almost frightening. I’d like to feel it came naturally, mutually, and not because I pushed. I push sometimes. We exchange cards and slot them in our wallets, then order another round and go on talking, arriving at last at the topic I know best, the subject I could go on about all night.

You want to know who you’re sitting with? I’ll tell you.

Planes and airports are where I feel at home. Everything fellows like you dislike about them–the dry, recycled air alive with viruses; the salty food that seems drizzled with warm mineral oil; the aura-sapping artificial lighting–has grown dear to me over the years, familiar, sweet. I love the Compass Club lounges in the terminals, especially the flagship Denver club, with its digital juice dispenser and deep suede sofas and floor-to-ceiling views of taxiing aircraft. I love the restaurants and snack nooks near the gates, stacked to their heat lamps with whole wheat mini-pizzas and gourmet caramel rolls. I even enjoy the suite hotels built within sight of the runways on the ring roads, which are sometimes as close as I get to the cities that my job requires me to visit. I favor rooms with kitchenettes and conference tables, and once I cooked a Christmas feast in one, serving glazed ham and sweet potato pie to a dozen janitors and maids. They ate with me in rotation, on their breaks, one or two at a time, so I really got to know them, even though most spoke no English. I have a gift that way. If you and I hadn’t hit it off like this, if the only words we’d passed were “That’s my seat” or “Done with that Business Week?” or just “Excuse me,” I’d still regard us as close acquaintances and hope that if we met again up here we wouldn’t be starting from zero, as just two suits. Twice last October I sat in the same row, on different routes, as 1989’s Miss USA, the one who remade herself as a Washington hostess and supposedly works nonstop for voting rights. In person she’s tiny, barely over five feet. I put her carry-on in the overhead.

But you know some of this already. You fly, too. It just hasn’t hooked you; you just don’t study it.

Hey, you’re probably the normal one.

Fast friends aren’t my only friends, but they’re my best friends. Because they know the life–so much better than my own family does. We’re a telephone family, strung out along the wires, sharing our news in loops and daisy chains. We don’t meet face-to-face much, and when we do there’s a dematerialized feeling, as though only half of our molecules are present. Sad? Not really. We’re a busy bunch. And I’m not lonely. If I had to pick between knowing just a little about a lot of folks and knowing everything about a few, I’d opt for the long, wide-angle shot, I think.

I’m peaceful. I’m in my element up here. Flying isn’t an inconvenience for me, as it is for my colleagues at ISM, who hit the road to prove their loyalty to a company that’s hungry for such proof and, I’m told, rewards it now and then. But I’ve never aspired to an office at world headquarters, close to hearth and home and skybox, with a desk overlooking the Front Range of the Rockies and access to the ninth-floor fitness center. I suppose I’m a sort of mutation, a new species, and though I keep an apartment for storage purposes–actually, I left the place two weeks ago and transferred the few things I own into a locker I’ve yet to pay the rent on, and may not–I live somewhere else, in the margins of my itineraries.

I call it Airworld; the scene, the place, the style. My hometown papers are USA Today and the Wall Street Journal. The big-screen Panasonics in the club rooms broadcast all the news I need, with an emphasis on the markets and the weather. My literature–yours, too, I see–is the bestseller or the near-bestseller, heavy on themes of espionage, high finance, and the goodness of common people in small towns. In Airworld, I’ve found, the passions and enthusiasms of the outlying society are concentrated and whisked to a stiff froth. When a new celebrity is minted in the movie theaters or ballparks, this is where the story breaks–on the vast magazine racks that form a sort of trading floor for public reputations and pretty faces. I find it possible here, as nowhere else, to think of myself as part of the collective that prices the long bond and governs necktie widths. Airworld is a nation within a nation, with its own language, architecture, mood, and even its own currency–the token economy of airline bonus miles that I’ve come to value more than dollars. Inflation doesn’t degrade them. They’re not taxed. They’re private property in its purest form.

It was during a layover in the Dallas Compass Club, my back sinking into a downy sofa cushion and coarse margarita salt drying on my lips, that I first told a friend about TMS, my Total Mileage System.

“It’s simple,” I said, as my hand crept up her leg (the woman was older than me and newly single; an LA ad exec who claimed her team had hatched the concept behind affinity credit cards). “I don’t spend a nickel, if I can help it, unless it somehow profits my account. I’m not just talking hotels and cars and long-distance carriers and Internet services, but mail-order steak firms and record clubs and teleflorists. I shop them according to the miles they pay, and I pit them against each other for the best deal. Even my broker gives miles as dividends.”

“So what’s your total?”

I smiled, but didn’t speak. I’m an open book in most ways, and I feel I deserve a few small secrets.

“What are you saving up for? Big vacation?”

“I’m not a vacation person. I’m just saving. I’d like to give a chunk to charity–to one of those groups that flies sick kids to hospitals.”

“I didn’t know you could do that. Sweet,” she said. She kissed me, lightly, quickly, but with feeling–a flick of her tongue tip that promised more to come should we meet again, which hasn’t happened yet. If it does, I may have to duck her, I’m afraid. She was too old for me even then, three years ago, and ad execs tend to age faster than the rest of us, once they’re on their way.

I don’t recall why I told that story. Not flattering. But I wasn’t in great shape back then. I’d just come off a seven-week vacation that ISM insisted I take for health reasons. I spent the time off taking classes at the U, hoping to enrich an inner life stretched thin by years of pep-talking the jobless. My bosses matched my tuition for the courses; a creative writing seminar that clawed apart a short nostalgic sketch about delivering propane with my father in a sixty-mile-per-hour blizzard, and a class called “Country-Western Music as Literature.” The music professor, a transplanted New Yorker in a black Stetson with a snakeskin band and a bolo tie clipped with a scorpion in amber, believed that great country lyrics share a theme: the migration from the village to the city, the disillusionment with urban wickedness, and the mournful desire to go home. The idea held up through dozens of examples and stayed with me when I returned to work, worsening the low mood and mental fuzziness that ISM had ordered me to correct. I saw my travels as a twangy ballad full of rhyming place names and neon streetscapes and vanishing taillights and hazy women’s faces. All those corny old verses, but new ones, too. The DIA control tower in fog. The drone of vacuum cleaners in a hallway, telling guests that they’ve slept past checkout time. The goose-pimply arms of a female senior manager hugging a stuffed bear I’ve handed her as we wait together for two security guards–it’s overkill; the one watches the other–to finish loading file cubes and desk drawers and the CPU from her computer onto a flat gray cart whose squeaky casters scream all the way to an elevator bank where a third guard holds down the “open” button.

I pulled out of it–barely. I cut that song off cold. It took a toll, though. Because I seldom see doctors in their offices, but only in transit, accidentally, my sense of my afflictions is vague, haphazard. High blood pressure? No doubt. Cholesterol? I’m sure it’s in the pink zone, if not the red. Once, between Denver and Oklahoma City, I nodded off next to a pulmonary specialist who told me when I woke that I had apnea–a tendency to stop breathing while unconscious. The doctor recommended a machine that pushes air through the nostrils while one sleeps to raise the oxygen level in one’s blood. I didn’t follow up. My circulation is ebbing flight by flight–I can’t feel my toes if I don’t keep wiggling them, and that only works for my first hour on board–so I’d better make some changes. Soon.

Excerpted from Up in the Air by Walter Kirn. Copyright (c) 2001 by Walter Kirn. Excerpted by permission. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher. (C) 2001 Walter Kirn All rights reserved. ISBN: 0-385-49710-5