In August I had a super awesome, amazingly bright idea: I was going to do a video inside the first-class suites on Singapore Airlines.

I’d heard about the airline’s first-class suites from a fellow (way wealthier) traveler a year before. His name was “Big Dave,” and he and his wife, “Carla” (who looked like Snooki), were sitting at a table next to me in a restaurant in Danang. They had just flown to Vietnam from London in one of those suites.

“It’s like your  own damn room!” he’d bragged. “I mean — look at me — I’m a big guy. I hate flying … and I never wanted to leave that plane!” (Big Dave was indeed a big guy. In fact, he was bordering on morbidly obese. I could understand how a normal seat would be confining for a man of his size.)

At first I was only semi-interested. But two hours and many bottles of wine later, I was full-on jealous — and nauseated (he’d started to brag about the “real” Mile High Club).

But I was determined. One day, I would take that mystical, magical flight and sleep in that bed and have the caviar service, Ferragamo amenity kits, and Givenchy sleep suits.

The first-class suite is just like heaven. (Andrew Rothschild)