In America there are two classes of travel - first class, and

The humorist Robert Benchley, with wit as sharp as a blade and vision as deep as a philosopher, once wrote: “In America there are two classes of travel—first class, and with children.” At first, his words sparkle with comedy, as though they were only a passing jest. Yet within their lightness lies a profound truth about the nature of travel, the burdens of responsibility, and the transformation of leisure into labor when the innocence of childhood enters the journey. For in this saying, Benchley teaches us that luxury is not always determined by wealth or comfort, but by the company we keep and the weight of care we carry.

When he speaks of “first class,” he evokes the traditional meaning of luxury: soft seats, quiet attendants, fine food, and the space to rest untroubled. It is the realm of ease where the traveler is free to contemplate, to read, or to gaze idly out the window at the passing world. It is the journey without struggle, designed for those who seek relief from the burdens of the road. In this sense, first class is not merely a ticket, but a symbol of freedom from care.

Yet the second part of the phrase—“with children”—strikes with the power of lived experience. To travel with children is to carry more than luggage. It is to shepherd restless bodies and curious minds, to answer endless questions, to soothe sudden tears, to guard against dangers, and to sacrifice one’s own peace for the sake of others. It is travel filled with interruptions, where time cannot flow smoothly and attention cannot drift lazily. In humor, Benchley reveals what every parent knows: that in the presence of children, no journey is ever first class, no matter the seat you occupy.

But this is not a complaint—it is a recognition of truth. For though traveling with children may lack silence and comfort, it contains something far deeper: the wonder of seeing the world anew through unjaded eyes. The parent loses rest but gains marvel, watching a child encounter their first mountain, their first ocean, their first train. The burden is heavy, but it is also sacred. Benchley, with his wit, reminds us that the difference between classes of travel lies not only in service, but in the spirit of the traveler.

History gives us an echo of this in the journeys of Mary and Joseph, traveling with the child Jesus into Egypt to escape Herod’s wrath. That was no first-class voyage, but a flight marked by fear, fatigue, and hardship. Yet within that journey lay the seed of salvation, for the child they bore carried the hope of generations. This story shows us that journeys with children, though difficult, often carry meaning beyond comfort—reminding us that responsibility is itself a sacred form of travel.

The origin of Benchley’s wit lies in his keen eye for human folly and truth. Living in the early 20th century, he was a writer for whom humor was the cloak of wisdom. In jesting about classes of travel, he was also speaking to the human tendency to measure life’s worth in comfort and ease. His joke endures because it is more than laughter—it is a mirror of life’s paradox: that what is most demanding is also most meaningful.

The lesson is clear: do not despise the burdens of responsibility, for they are the price of love. To travel alone or in luxury may bring comfort, but to travel with children brings growth, teaching patience, sacrifice, and wonder. If the road is noisier, it is also richer. If the journey is harder, it is also more human. True wisdom is to see not only the exhaustion, but also the gift hidden within the trial.

Practical action flows easily. When you travel with children, prepare your heart as much as your luggage. Do not seek silence only, but embrace laughter and chaos as part of the road. Remember that the purpose of travel is not only to reach a destination but to shape the soul—both yours and theirs. And when you travel without such burdens, be grateful, but do not forget that others carry theirs with courage.

Thus, the words of Robert Benchley—“two classes of travel: first class, and with children”—stand as both humor and wisdom. To future generations, let it be remembered that comfort is fleeting, but the lessons of love and care endure forever. For the true measure of travel is not the softness of the seat, but the depth of the journey written upon the heart.