Luxury travel by train
So there I was, a humble scribe of the digital age, embarking on what the brochure called " The Sisyphus Express ." Not its real name, of course. Its real name was something unpronounceable, a series of elegant syllables that roughly translated to "More Money Than Your Entire Bloodline Has Ever Seen." My goal? To experience luxury travel by train . Not just travel . Luxury travel. The kind where the word "journey" is used unironically, and the destination is merely a disappointing footnote. I was greeted not by a conductor, but by a " curator of transit experiences ," a man named Alistair whose handshake was firmer than my life choices. He looked at my single, modest suitcase with the gentle pity a botanist might reserve for a plastic flower. "Your luggage will be… decontaminated," he murmured, before leading me to my "accommodation." I was half-expecting a room. What I got was a " horizontally-oriented private conser...