All of a sudden they turn super friendly. They smile all along the way, hand me newspapers and hot towels. They approach me by my name. Complimentary champagne and freshly squeezed orange juice included.

I’m so tired that about two hours ago I just cracked up in the middle of a buzzing Dubai Airport. More exhausted than I ever was travelling to Australia; and I’m only half-way. So what the hell has happened here, where I feel I’m thrown into a completely different world?

I actually haven’t got a clue what exactly happened. But they confiscated my boarding pass, asked me to wait and then issued me a new one. I’m probably way too tired to realise that I have just been allocated a seat in the Emirates Business Class.

Hell! Reclining seat that actually makes a pretty comfy bed, table cloth to go with the lobster brunch, a dry white from Oz and, while you’re waiting, why not try out the built-in seat massage?

I feel misplaced and as if I shouldn’t have been put there. The hardest bit is to act as if you are used to this kind of treatment. Why me, who is travelling on the cheapest fare imaginable? Really, I mean, I’m not complaining, this is probably the best that could have happened to rejuvenate after the nine-hour lay-over.