Random Thoughts on Travel to Hong Kong

• Time is a fluid concept. We had breakfast on the plane (it was Central Time on board I guess) and an hour later we were on the ground at 7:30 p.m. local time. I asked Clyde about dinner, naturally.
• The Arctic Ocean. It's the only way Chicago could conceivably be on the way to Hong Kong. San Francisco seems like it's on the way to Hong Kong but not Chicago. United Airlines had suggested we change our connection from San Francisco to avoid delays due to the terrible California wildfires. So instead of flying over the Pacific Ocean, we flew over the Arctic Ocean. And by going through Chicago, we actually got there an hour earlier. It makes my head spin.
• Hong Kong is a tiny little city by Chinese standards. A mere 7 million inhabitants, it is dwarfed by many other Chinese cities that are home to 25 to 40 million. 
• The Arctic for a second bullet point. Does anyone else think it's mind blowing to be  going on a flight that goes inside the Arctic Circle? I understand in my head that the Earth is round and this is the most direct route. But my mind still can't quite grasp it. 
• It is yesterday at home. 
• In the taxi from the airport train to the hotel, I freaked a little because the driver drove on the left side of the road. I'd temporarily forgotten that in this former British colony, people drive on the left. I thought for sure we were going to crash into oncoming traffic.
• Back to the Arctic, people aren't meant to travel so far north. It isn't natural. Nor is it natural to fly at 30,000 feet. The only natural way to go to China is to travel for several months on foot to the ocean, the Pacific Ocean, take a ship for several more months, and never return. It only took us 15 hours to get here from Chicago. And that's a long travel day by 21st century standards.
• 18th century pioneers went great distances and never returned, but they also never had to make a connection at O'Hare.

Making the "A" List

 I've never been in the "A" group.

When I was a kid, I was strictly a B student. Socially, I was either a loner or a music/theatre nerd. Notice how I spell theatre? That's how theatre nerds spell it.

As an adult, I've rarely rubbed elbows with the "A" Gays, a status conscious caste of gay men - their expensive fashion, cars, homes, and "A" list parties hold little attraction for me. My idea of a good party is to eat pizza and listen to music from the '80s. Come to think of it, I have a lot of parties by myself.

Anyway, being an "A" lister was never something to which I aspired. Until a business trip a couple of weeks ago when I had to fly Southwest Airlines.

If you've flown Southwest, you know what I'm talking about. On a normal airline you can reserve a seat ahead of time, indicating your preference of window or aisle and choosing whether to sit at the front of the plane where it's less bumpy or in the rear where you're more likely to survive a crash. On Southwest, they don't assign seats. You have to compete with other passengers while being herded onto the plane like cattle.

In order to avoid a total stampede, Southwest thoughtfully divides the passengers into three groups. When you get your boarding pass, instead of a seat number, it tells you whether you're in group A, B, or C. The A group gets to board first. The B group boards after the A group, and the C group is just pathetically out of luck, destined to fill up the middle seats, sitting crammed between two other passengers with their elbows turned inward towards their ribs.

For the first flight, I did everything right, at least what I usually do for a normal, assigned seat, airline. I logged into the Southwest web site the night before and printed my boarding pass. Out came a piece of paper with a great big C on it. Good grief! All the A and B passes were already gone. What if I'd waited to check in until I got to the airport? Could I even get on the plane?

The next day at Denver International Airport, I had to watch while the A group lined up and slowly boarded, their huge carry-on bags promising to take up even more room. Then I watched as the B group, slightly more lackluster, did the same. Then the Cs were called. My group of sad sacks. C stands for clueless, I thought. Those not savvy enough to get their boarding passes adequately early.

I'm not a very competitive person. I hate sports and I don't strive to be the first to have the latest anything (technology, car, what have you). But you'd better believe that for the return flight, I logged in exactly 24 hours before takeoff, the soonest they allow you to do it, and got an A boarding pass. I was not going to be in the Clueless group again.

My next flight isn't until November but I've already made my reservation. As I booked the ticket on the United Airlines website, I went to the graphic of the 787 Dreamliner plane and clicked on the most convenient looking aisle seat. There will be plenty of stress on that long flight. Wondering where I'm going to sit will not be part of it.