Something About Myself That I Don’t Understand

In 1996, I took a flight from San Francisco to Hong Kong.  I had a window seat on a United 747.  For the bums in coach (including me), the seat configuration was 3-4-3.  There was someone in the aisle seat but no one between us.

The flight time was probably a bit longer than 14 hours.

I remember almost nothing about that flight except for this: I got out of that seat only twice, and both times only after my aisle companion got up first.

How in the hell did I survive a 14 hour flight with only two trips to stretch my legs and hit the lav?  Today the thought of a five hour cross country trip makes me curl into the fetal position and whimper.  I’m chalking it up to either a trance-like state or a complete lack of food and beverage 24 hours prior to the flight.

One Reply to “Something About Myself That I Don’t Understand”

  1. Just make sure to get an aisle seat!

    I had a window seat on a 12 hour flight back from China and the nice girl in the aisle didn’t get up once. The two roman cokes she downed after takeoff knocked her out for the whole flight, which isn’t surprising since she couldn’t have been much older than fourteen.

    Good luck.

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