Arnie Weissmann
At a meeting held by the rewards and loyalty program Arrivia, CEO Mike Nelson asked the audience: "Would you rather travel first class to a second-tier destination or to a world-class city in the worst class?"
He cited going to Cleveland or Detroit in a private jet and staying at the Four Seasons versus traveling to Sydney or Paris in a middle seat between two people who brought their "comfort animals," then staying in a hostel with a shared bathroom. About two-thirds of the audience admitted to being travel divas, and the other third looked forward to meeting fellow travelers in the communal bathroom down the hall.
While I could guess how many of my industry friends would answer that question, I was curious to pose it to travelers who started out with a pack on their back and more interest in experiences than amenities.
Because Sydney and Paris might be too mainstream for the group I was querying, I added Rio and Bali to the "top tier" list and threw in Louisville to the second tier.
The first person I approached seemed an obvious choice: Tony Wheeler, cofounder of Lonely Planet guidebooks, whose earliest releases were titled "(name of destination) on a Shoestring."
Tony felt, first off, that I should make it more contemporary by asking if one would stay in a five-star hotel in Dubai with the possibility of an incoming Iranian drone taking out the reception desk.
But true to his roots, he recalled that one of the best weeks he had last year was in the Sahara in Algeria where, to get to the "bathroom," one exited one's tent, grabbed a shovel and squatted behind a rock in the moonlight. Mindful of snakes, of course.
Another budget guidebook publisher, Pauline Frommer, was more direct: "I NEVER do first class. I consider it a waste of money. My travels are always about the destination, not the thread count on the sheets or the service at the hotel. I was recently in Ho Chi Minh City and stayed in a private room in a hostel."
Author Paul Theroux's early travel books were very much about the life of a (very curious and observant) budget traveler. He wasn't sure whether my question was "a case of Hobson's Choice or Morton's Fork" but said "both options are odious to me. I can say with certainty that all airplane flights, including the 'luxury' private ones, are no fun at all.
"Louisville is a lovely place," he continued. "Cleveland is not bad: Rock and Roll museum, lots of sports. Bali is traffic-ridden, Rio is crime-ridden and noisy. Put me down for a roadtrip anywhere in North America."
Intrepid Travel executive chairman Darrell Wade began his travels in 1989 "with Lonely Planet, public buses and hostels."
But in 2026, he admits, "I usually travel in the front of the plane and stay in fancier digs. But the destination always, always, always comes first. Last week I was on the Brahmaputra River in a pretty remote corner of India. There were no first-class flights to get there nor were there five-star hotels. But it was fabulous! Strangely, the quality of a travel experience is almost inversely proportional to the facilities available. Quality isn't measured by comfort or stars but by the kick-in-the-guts emotional impact of the experience."
Eddie Frank, CEO of Tusker Trail, organizes expeditions up Kilimanjaro, to Everest base camp and in Mongolia and Patagonia. But he began his travel career at the age of 24 driving adventurous souls across Africa in a four-wheel-drive truck. His response:
"First-class to Cleveland? It's like wearing a tux to mow the lawn.
"Private jet, polished wood, quiet cabin. Then you sleep on Four Seasons sheets ironed into obedience. But you still wake up in Cleveland! The landscape doesn't rise. The air doesn't thin. Your pulse doesn't change. It's just comfort delivered smoothly in a place somewhat ordinary.
"Now flip it: Middle seat to Paris. Knees tight. Sleep buggered. Hostel key on a rubber band.
"You're not comfortable, but at sunrise you step outside and the place has gravity," he said.
"Same story elsewhere: In Oz, Sydney Harbor hoists you. In Brazil, Rio rumbles with life. And Bali breathes slow and ancient. You feel smaller. And more awake.
"Here's the truth after 50 years of leading people into real mountains: Luxury is just logistics. Destination is consequence. A private jet can make the trip easier. It cannot make the place matter.
"I've seen climbers obsess over the tent, the mattress, the menu. None of that determines whether the summit changes you. The terrain does. The exposure does. The scale does.
"If you are forced to choose, I'll take friction on the way to something that expands me," he continued. "I don't need Champagne at 40,000 feet. I need a horizon that rearranges my thinking.
"First class fades. World-class places don't."
To which I can only add: Amen.