In America there are two classes of travel - first class, and with children.

When Kids Redefine the Journey

There's a particular exhaustion that comes with traveling with kids—not just the physical tiredness, but the way it fundamentally changes what travel means. You're no longer drifting through an airport; you're herding, negotiating, managing snacks and entertainment and bathroom breaks. The romantic idea of travel—wandering, spontaneity, peace—gets replaced by logistics and compromise.

Benchley's joke lands because it captures something true about how children don't just tag along on your plans; they actually create a separate reality. First class becomes a joke because comfort is almost irrelevant when you're pinning hopes on whether the child in the next seat will have a meltdown. You could be in business class with premium everything, and what matters is whether there's a window seat distraction and if you packed enough snacks.

But here's the thing worth sitting with: that reduction of travel to pure survival mode is temporary. Years later, those chaotic trips with kids often become the travel stories people actually remember and treasure. The failed plans, the unexpected detours, the weird meals at weird times—these somehow matter more than the trips that went exactly as intended. So maybe second-class travel with children isn't the opposite of real travel. Maybe it's just travel with the distractions stripped away, leaving only what actually sticks.