Over the years, I’ve come to wonder whether lots of money – and I mean LOTS of money – comes with a free passport to la-la land – and I don’t mean the movie.
Why anyone with that sort of money should get free anything is a bit of puzzle, but I don’t make the rules. Perhaps, on the basis that there are no free lunches, it’s a sort of perverse warning: Abandon perspective, all ye who enter here. Because certainly once you present that passport and choof on through, you will never again see the world as other mortals see it.
I can’t prove any of this, of course. I will never know how the very rich see the world because I will never be one of them. But from where I’m sitting, it all seems a bit silly.
Take The Mansion, for example. Costs millions, has more bedrooms than you will ever need even if your friends do come to visit (maybe once a year?) dozens of bells and whistles you will never use, and floors on which your (obligatory) stilettos clickety clack like a train crossing the points, which can’t be good for the nerves on a less-than-stellar day.
Not that that would matter, of course: if The Mansion was getting you down, you could always pop off to the ski lodge – Mediterranean villa – apartment in Paris/London/New York – or even the private island. In your yacht/private jet… Yeah yeah, whatever.
See, I wouldn’t really like that. And before you snort with disbelief – I’d miss the challenge of ‘ordinary’ life that makes some things special and highlights the pleasure I get from a sunny day. I’d miss ‘ordinary’ people, who are often extra-ordinary for reasons and in ways the rich don’t need to be. I’d miss my un-flash unit in which I am far more at home than I would ever be with marble floors and a Jacuzzi I would never use.
And above all, I think la-la land, where you could afford whatever you fancied, would become terribly, terribly boring. What do you look forward to when you’ve done it all?
Becoming POTUS, perhaps?