Aaahhhh, when I see an airplane flying above me when I look out my window every now and then, I get depressed, still knowing despite having a job, I won't be able to travel this year.It's just the entire representation of freedom to me, albeit financed by research and a good amount of money.Thousands, even.And being treated like a king for a budget level VIP experience, just where the core function that I consider luxurious, but should be indicative in humanity and expected, which is maturity, in leaving people alone and being courteous in interactions, is worth the price, and also reducing the chance of riffraff and other psychos sitting next to me by fiscally segregating myself, pricing them out.Then I can just enjoy the women there without the fucking perfection or nothing, or even insta-judge and action on me I didn't even know about, like looking like some workplace shooter, or giving off viscous, the most darkest aura ever and having to explain to my bosses and do gooders I'm not