CX 138 arrived in Hong Kong before dawn. We taxied for what seemed like a very long time before we got to our gate, and I was astounded by the vast expanse of tarmac littered with huge aircraft. There were hundreds of them.

I couldn't see much beyond the bright lights and dark spaces, but I was impressed. This was one serious airport!

Travelling up the front worked its usual magic and my long stride coupled with the magic travelators saw me bounding through the airport ahead of the rest. No need to stop and collect luggage - I was headed for Cathay Pacific's awesome lounge: "The Wing".

Staid in transit and immigration (or some sort of arrivals control) barely glanced at my papers. And then I was off romping along to The Wing, the feel of a hot shower against my skin and cold juice down my throat spurring me on.

It wasn't supposed to open until 0545 and by my reckoning there was still half an hour to go, but the counter was manned and there was another traveller there already, arguing with the attendant.

"But DragonAir is owned by Cathay Pacific..." he was protesting, and I could hear a loser. He went off muttering, and I presented my boarding pass to the good looking air dragon, hoping that my reasonably uncreased appearance would do the trick.

Boarding pass it was. My Qantas Club membership counted for nothing, likewise my Silver Frequent Flyer card, but travelling Business Class earnt me a smile and an onwards wave.

There was some sort of temporary lounge where you could wait until the real deal opened up, and let me tell you, dear reader, this was better than many a lounge I was to encounter elsewhere. I could have happily spent all day there, snacking on the munchies and draining the freshly brewed coffee and lazing in the comfy chairs.

A few other earlybirds arrived, and I began to consider that I might be overdressed with a button-up shirt. Experienced longhaul travellers dress for comfort, even if they are in a top level lounge. Shorts and thongs might have seen me turned away, but I reckon anything else was a goer.

Staff began to arrive and in due course the sign blocking the stairs up to the real lounge were withdrawn. I gave the high sign to the others waiting and led the charge upwards.

Up to a new level.

I might not be an elegant person, but I have an eye for elegant design, and I could tell from the moment I poked my nose into The Wing that someone had gone to a great deal of trouble to get everything just right, from the simple but stylish tables in the Noodle bar to the long water feature in the computer room.

And speaking of water, my first aim was to find some and get naked in it. I'd sussed out the location of the showers, and I found them, discreetly tucked away. A couple of attendants hovered at the entrance and loaded me up with a towel big enough for two and shaving and toothbrushing kit.

The shower room was big, warm and comfortable. Plenty of room to stow and hang my kit and oh, how I enjoyed the hot water! Nothing like a tub to set you up after a long flight. I made a mental note to include a spare pair of undies and socks in my backpack for the next time.

Refreshed and shaven, I headed back out into the lounge. My aim at one of these places is always to find a spot with a view of airport operations where I can set up my laptop, use the freebie wifi, and tap into the internet with a supply of coffee and munchies.

The internet was a bit wobbly at that hour of the morning and I had to resort to a built in computer for a while, but good things to eat and drink were available in abundance. In fact, for the first couple of hours, there seemed to be more staff than passengers.

The lounge was built on the wrong side of the terminal for a good view, but it was well placed for leaning out and looking down on other, less fortunate, travellers, and the aircraft were visible beyond the terminal's glass wall. Not a good location for aircraft photography, so I put my camera away.

All told, I had about three very pleasant hours in The Wing before I had to reluctantly leave for my next flight. Thanks, Cathay Pacific!

Back out in the real world, I was sidetracked into an electronics store, where among the iPods and cameras I found a display of travel adaptors. A subject of keen interest to me, as recharging my various battery-powered gadgets out of odd-shaped power sockets around the world is important, lest I find myself out of batteries just as I needed to use my laptop or camera or phone.

My adaptor kit was pretty basic. Three different adaptors, one each for US, UK and Euro sockets, plus a small Australian powerboard, letting me recharge two items from the one socket.

I found a universal adaptor on sale, with a set of four prongs at one end and a set of sockets at the other. You could use this to plug anything into anything. I snapped one up, as I loved the idea of one device replacing three. About as heavy and bulky as two normal adaptors, but overall it was a saving in space and weight. Besides, I loved its clever design!

My flight was leaving from the far end of the terminal, and after wasting a few more minutes trying to photograph a Qantas jet taking off in front of the spectacular mountains and apartment buildings on the other side of the runway, I was going to have to be very snappy indeed if I was to get to the gate in time. No worries - there was a train service that shuttled from one end of the terminal to the other, and that got me there with time to spare. There were still people queuing - quite a long queue, actually - and I tailed onto the end.

One of the attendants spotted my Business Class card and whisked me off to a much shorter line which led to a separate entrance. This was service!

Qantas could learn a lot from Cathay Pacific, I decided. And that was the end of my "Qantas is the best airline in the world" attitude, fostered by forty years of television adverts telling me this.