"There's nothing quite as fascinating as landing in a foreign country," exclaimed my seatmate, Abram, as the landing gear dropped below our 757. I looked outside. "A foreign country like... Texas?" I asked, somewhat sarcastically, watching the Dallas airport come into view. "Absolutely," he smiled and gazed back out to the brown landscape. Abram and I are on leg number five of our eight-leg weekend "mileage run," a delusional-yet-logical effort to bank the most miles possible for the lowest possible price. Forty-five minutes after landing here in Dallas, we would be jetting back to Chicago.

Granted. Most people think this is the craziest thing in the world. Fly eight segments in two days -- the equivalent of 7,500 miles -- and not even enjoy the desintation -- we stayed in San Diego for 10 hours, six of which I spent sleeping on Abram's mother-in-law's couch. These critics are not necessarily wrong, but they do fail to admire the facts. Where else can you sit in a soft recliner, be served an unlimited stream of tasty beverages and wines, select entrees off a menu with choices like "pan seared beef tenderloin with bearnaise sauce" or "sauteed scallops and prawns with lemon grass crab broth"? Where else can you not be disturbed by a ringing cell phone (I had 7 voicemail messages waiting for me when I landed in Los Angeles) and Outlook's annoying "new mail" pings? And I'm hasty to point out that I caught up on three movies, blew through a pile of December and January Economist magazines from my kitchen table, composed a symphony, and finished four business cases. With the exception of composing a symphony, this is all true.

In the process, Abram and I have collectively banked enough frequent flyer miles for a free trip to Europe. If you're more judicious like us, though, that's halfway to a first class award to Asia -- a seat that would otherwise cost you $8,000 or more out of pocket. In the meantime, we would enjoy the fruits of airline elite status, taking a breather in a Star Alliance lounge enjoying fine food and wine, not waiting on hold to talk to an airline representative, and other benefits that accrue to the loyal customers.

The Dallas airport was clean. Too bad we weren't here to stay. When we got back on the plane in Dallas the flight attendant was floored. "What are YOU guys doing here?!" she asked incredulously. Abram mumbled something about elite qualifying miles as we settled into our first class seats. Not long after take-off, Abram was sipping on red wine, me on a sparkling water with lime. Dinner arrived not long afterwards. Critics indeed.