Whenever I try to imagine nilth class travelers, all I come up with is Hedonism-Bot from Futurama, giggling and eating grapes.  Surrounded by giggling gynoid party-bots.  In a solid gold hot tub filled with champagne.  Entertained by a live string quartet.  Plus Bootsy Collins on electric bass.  As flakes of 99.995% pure cocaine gently fall from the ceiling, like snow.<p>As I don&#x27;t ever get <i>de luxe</i> accommodation, I simply have no basis for imagining <i>plus luxe</i>.