Tripping the Light Fantastic

One man’s review of the high life

- DICK KARL

With a satchel full of years and a bucketful of good fortune, you might say I’ve been privileged to travel in style to an unconscionable degree. Much of the high life has been “ purchased” with airline mileage, hotel or credit card rewards points—the best use for these “incentives” is to experience otherwise unattainable treats.

The St. Regis Hotel is my favorite hotel in the world. Service here is personal, not formulaic. You may hear, “May I help you, sir?” and “My pleasure, ma’am,” at a Ritz Carlton (fine properties to be sure), but not at this St. Regis. No matter what your request, it is never parried with a flat “no.” They may say: “Well, sir, I’m afraid we can’t ride motorcycles in our small lobby, but the nearest Harley dealer is nearby. May I get them on the phone?” One time, we had to wait for a room. Turns out the Israeli prime minister was a late check out from a massive suite. My wife, Cathy, and I got it—it was worth the wait.

I’ve been lucky with high-end airline travel. One time, while sitting in Delta’s Crown Room in Atlanta, I was unhappily surprised to hear, “Dr. Richard Karl, report to the service desk.” Uh-oh, what was happening to our business-class seats to Paris? “For weight-and-balance purposes, the captain has asked to have you move forward to first class.” Oh, OK! Three hours later, I smiled as an alert flight attendant asked Cathy if she’d like more caviar. Those huge maroon leather seats on that magnificent Lockheed L-1011 provided good comfort, but I can’t say I arrived in Paris feeling refreshed. Hungover was more like it.