I’m back home.

Over five days, I crossed three continents, clocked 40+ hours in the air, visited eight lounges, flew in four cabins, touched down in four countries — all for two nights in Birmingham and one in Bangkok. On paper, it sounds absurd. In real life… it was still absurd. But gloriously so.

When I first floated the idea of this trip — solo, short, and strange — I was met with blank stares. Birmingham? Really? Even the locals seemed confused. “You came all this way… for here?” Wikivoyage didn’t exactly roll out the red carpet either, listing more ways to leave Birmingham than things to do in it.

But it suited the mission: a few quiet pubs, a castle, a stroll through neighbourhoods. A bit grubby in parts, sure. But for a couple of days, it did the job.

And more than that — this trip gave me exactly what I was after: unencumbered travel.

The highs:

• Qatar and Air India First – They may not be the flashiest products on the runway, but even the humblest first class beats business any day. There’s something about the exclusivity and acres of space.
• The car rental hail mary – A last-minute drive from Manchester to Heathrow, powered by blind optimism and bad traffic.
• Pavlova at the Qantas First Lounge – Still the most consistently excellent thing Qantas serves.
• Pub chats in Birmingham – The disbelief on people’s faces when I said I was only there for 48 hours was worth it.
• Bangkok – Where the food’s hot, the massages cheap, and the weather doesn’t require a jacket. Bliss.

The lows:

• 2.5 hours on a parked plane with vague announcements and warm cabin air that slowly cooked our collective will to live.
• Missed connection gymnastics, complete with hasty bookings, fast walks through unfamiliar terminals, and more than a few browser tabs open.
• Lentil soup so bland it may have triggered an existential crisis.

But would I do it again? In a heartbeat. Because this wasn’t just a trip — it was a reset. A reminder that beyond the layers of laundry, logistics, and weekday monotony, there’s still a version of me that gets irrationally excited by award space and obscure routings.

This kind of travel doesn’t make sense to most people — and that’s okay. It only needs to make sense to us.

Until the next improbable itinerary…