Why is it you seem to get an upgrade when you least need it?
The night my wife and I were crammed into a room with 10 other people (all female I might add) at a Budapest backpackers in stifling heat following six hours stuck on a train? That would have been a great time for an upgrade to a penthouse suite.
But while travelling alone recently, being looked after very well the previous two nights during a golf jaunt around Victoria, I was upgraded to a penthouse that would measure up as roughly the same size in square metres as my home in Titirangi. With twice as many spas.
What exactly did the John Olsen suite at the Olsen hotel, part of Melbourne's Art Series Hotels, entail? Two bedrooms, both with ensuite (though I naturally picked the one with its own spa), three 42" HD flat screen televisions (yes, three of the things), a full gourmet kitchen and dining table for 10 and another spa on the balcony with 180 degree views over Melbourne's CBD and Chapel St. Did I mention I was by myself?
Luckily, I was catching up with a school friend so I could actually show off the ridiculous space. Because what's the point of an upgrade if you can't brag about it?