On a sun-drenched afternoon in Turks and Caicos, I stood barefoot in the sand, waiting for my bride. The ocean whispered against the shore, the sky was a clear, endless blue, and our small wedding party—her daughters, her parents, and a few unexpected guests—gathered to celebrate. Franklin, our personal valet at Grace Bay Resort, was there too, along with a beach attendant and several other staff we’d grown close to during the week. They’d helped us with everything: spa services, a photographer, a reception table on the beach complete with a fire dancer. That night, we returned to a two-bedroom suite with a walk-out patio to the sand, champagne on ice, and swans sculpted from bath towels. It was the perfect blend of connection, comfort, and care—the essence of how I’ve come to define luxury travel.
But that love for exploring new places didn’t start on a white-sand beach. It started in the late 1970s, in Okinawa.
I was just a kid when my father’s Air Force posting brought us to Japan from 1976 to 1979. Our school, filled with other American children, included daily Japanese language and culture classes so we could navigate the world beyond the gates. And beyond the gates we went—skateboarding down narrow streets, shopping for Japanese candy and erasers, exploring small shops. Food was my favorite adventure. We tried everything: sushi, egg rolls, Mongolian barbecue. Long after we returned to the States, Japanese cooking remained a family staple.
That early immersion in another culture taught me two things: the joy of trying the unfamiliar and the importance of learning from the people who live there.
Back in the U.S., travel meant hitching our Airstream trailer to the family car and setting out for National Parks, KOA campgrounds, or private sites. My father, shaped by his Vietnam experience, treated these trips as survival training. We learned to build fires, read a compass, tie knots, and fish for dinner. I didn’t know it then, but those trips were quietly teaching me to find novelty in any destination—no matter how close to home.
As an adult, work brought me to London often, and it became my launching point for European adventures. Italy, Spain… and especially Barcelona, which stole my heart. The Catalan architecture, the food and wine, and day trips beyond the city created a sense of wonder that kept pulling me back. These weren’t just vacations—they were deep dives into the rhythm of a place.
When I joined KAYAK, travel became part of my professional life. My first trip was to Las Vegas, which I came to think of as “delightfully tacky.” At first, I stayed at affordable spots like Treasure Island, exploring every corner of the Strip. But over time, I upgraded—Paris Hotel, Bellagio, MGM, Wynn, and especially the Venetian. I learned how luxury accommodations could transform a trip: shows, spas, pools, and fine dining all within steps of your room.
As my career grew, so did the scale of my travel. Turks and Caicos became a recurring favorite, I took two heli-skiing trips with my son—one in Valdez, Alaska, and another in Chile’s Andes—and visited places like Bora Bora, Finland for the northern lights, and the Ritz-Carlton Bal Harbour in Miami Beach, where I stayed in perhaps the most remarkable hotel room of my life.
For me, luxury starts before you even arrive. It’s choosing the best flights and seats possible, and booking a room that feels like more than just a place to sleep. But it’s also the unscripted hospitality—the moments when staff treat you like family instead of customers. Franklin at Grace Bay embodies this for me. Always smiling, always checking in, always saying, “Amazing, amazing, amazing!” His care and attention turned a great vacation into an unforgettable one.
These days, the “perfect” trip means my wife and I, an exotic beach, a luxurious hotel, and days without a fixed itinerary. I avoid trips that feel rushed; if I’m traveling far, I want enough time to truly unwind. I rely on concierges and locals to point me toward hidden gems, and I leave room for spontaneous adventures.
Travel has made me deeply grateful—for my life, my opportunities, and the people I’ve met along the way. It’s also influenced how I run my own business, the New England Table Company. I aim to give my clients the same kind of unexpected hospitality I’ve experienced around the world: small gifts with deliveries, thoughtful communication, and a feeling that they’re more than just customers.
From the streets of Okinawa to the beaches of Turks and Caicos, my travels have been about more than seeing the world. They’ve been about connecting—with people, with places, and with experiences that stay with you long after the trip ends.