I am richer than you. I have an impossible amount of money, and before you tell me that monetary wealth means nothing in comparison to the richness of heart and experience, I assure you that I am richer in those fake ways too, so don't bother. My prosperity across all quadrants of life (including the previously unmentioned handsomeness, sexual prowess, and balance) has afforded me many luxuries to which you are no doubt unaccustomed. I, for instance, can purchase upwards of seven alcoholic drinks on a flight from Denver to Los Angeles without even asking the price. I can also slide one of my countless credit cards through the phone in the seat in front of me, and order whatever I damn well please from SkyMall before falling asleep on a tray table. These are the joys of affluence.