We wander over to a huge queue and a lady asks to see our ticket. I smile, knowingly. Any second now, she will see the words 'First Class' and point us to a special desk. She will probably summon a fine steed to take us there. Or maybe she'll get us a limo!

But she doesn't. She just smiles and says, 'That's fine.'

Eh? What about the special check-in?

'Um ... is there a first-class check-in?' I say, quietly.

'I'm sorry?'

'A first-class check-in? We've got, um, first-class tickets?'

'Sorry, you've got ...'

She looks me up and down for a moment, which is a cliche, but I can't apologise for it, because it is her cliche, not mine, and if she's worried about being seen as cliched, she should really reevaluate her behaviour. She looks once more at the ticket and says, 'Oh. OK. Just over there.'

We thank her and walk off. But something is niggling me.

'She didn't say "sir",' I say. 'She should've said "sir"!'

'Yes,' says my wife. 'You could be anyone. You could be an internet millionaire!'

'Yes!' I say. 'Or a rock star. Or a film director. Or ...'

Hang on. An internet millionaire?

'Why an internet millionaire?' I say.

'Just ... you know. You could be. She didn't know.'

'Yes, but why an internet millionaire? Why not just a millionaire?'

'I don't ...'

'Why specifically the internet? Why is that the first thing that pops into your head? Couldn't I have made my money in something else? Perhaps I am a famous property developer. Why do you not think I am a famous property developer?'

'I'm just saying ...'

'It's because I wear glasses, isn't it?' I say, highly offended.

'No!' says my wife, and from her reaction I know that it definitely is.

'You think I look like I work on the internet!' I say, in disbelief. 'Out of all the jobs in the world, that's what you think I look like I do. An internet millionaire.'

I cannot believe it. I have married a monster.

'Anyway, I said "billionaire",' she says. 'I said "internet billionaire".'

'It's not the money!' I say. 'Probably some of my sites are doing very well indeed, and I'm sure as the economic downturn makes an upturn, yes, we'll see some real profit in the third quarter! But you said millionaire, and you also said internet!'

'Well, I made a mistake,' she says. 'I meant to say rock star.'

'Yes. Thank you. I am a rock star.'

We turn to face the lady at check-in who's heard the last few seconds of our conversation. And then I remember that I am not a rock star and that someone else has paid for our tickets. We suddenly feel like competition winners.