Bunter, light my fire and turn down the bed.

I once had a job where I got to play at being a jet-setter. Planes took me back and forth across the country, often at the drop of a hat. Shuttles and limos took me to my hotels, hotels that were already selected, reserved, and paid for, without my lifitng a finger. Hotels that served free continental breakfasts and I could order room service for supper and just put it on the bill. Hotels where the sheets and towels were washed and changed and the rugs vacuumed everyday. By people who were not me. Other lesser beings ferried me to work, or rented me cars [to my specifications], cars that when they needed maintenance or repair disappeared and new ones magically appeared in their place. These same lesser mortals also took my laundry somewhere and brought it back - clean, folded, or hung on hangers [again, done to my specifications]. I ate every lunch at a new restaurant, or went back to the same favorite cozy little bistro everyday. I met fascinating people of all shapes, sizes, colors, and accents, in cities and towns I'd never even heard of. My bank account grew at a rate that it had never seen before [and hasn't seen since].

I worked insane hours, but the rest of the life was intoxicating.

So, yeah, even though this is much more my idea of a real camping trip, just once I'd like to see the wilderness the way the rich people do.