Why is it that when The Wife goes on vacation, she always ends up on a tropical beach, whereas my travel seems more likely to result in a funny story to tell? A few weeks ago, I had to plan a trip to Beijing and a meeting near the airport before the flight to Beijing. Easy-peasy, right? One after the other. I even had time to check-in my bag before heading to the meeting.

Problem was, I wasn’t sure how long the meeting would last and I didn’t want to end it early or accidentally miss my flight. I scheduled 4 hours between the begininng of the meeting & takeoff, which, of course, meant that everything went smoothly

and I was back in the airport 3 hours before takeoff (in Hong Kong, you can get away with hopping off the subway 30 minutes before takeoff). I couldn’t be placed on an earlier flight, but no worries– I’ll just sit & relax for a bit.

6:30 PM – It’s about time to board, so I wander over to the gate. I enjoy my seat a few minutes more and watch the rest of the passengers stand in a line that stretches around the corner and out of sight. Why do people insist on queuing before they’ve even announced the start of boarding? Thank god The Wife isn’t here or I would be forced to stand in that queue. It feels good to just sit for a while.

7:00 PM – We’re pulling away from the gate and I’m settling into a new book. 30 feet later, the jet stops. The captain tentatively speaks up. Apparently, we’ve lost our steering. Not a problem, it’s “just a short delay.”

8:00 PM – The flight attendants are passing out salty snacks and the televisions on the ceiling are playing an episode of “The Office.” Man, that show has gone downhill.

8:30 PM – Now it’s a Cantonese program that seems to take dog shows very seriously. I wonder how Christopher Guest plays in China.

9:00 PM – Now I’m wishing that I’d spent more time studying Mandarin. I’d be able to better appreciate the exasperated complaints that a nearby passenger is yelling at the flight attendant. I sit back and wait for the riots to begin.

9:30 PM – A round of Haagen-Daaz cups seems to have quelled our little uprising. I have to wonder if the mechanics are taking an ice cream break as well.

10:00 PM – All is lost. We shuffle out of the plane and ride a crowded bus back to the far side of the airport terminal. More snacks await. Note to self: food extinguishes Asian Anger, or at least temporarily. Always works on The Wife.

10:30 PM – At least we didn’t spend long in the terminal. On our new plane I finally hear from the Wife. She’s just gotten out of a production of “Dirty Dancing” that was apparently steered off course even faster than my plane. Still, her true disappointment of the night seems to be that I didn’t take the opportunity to join the passenger riot.

11:00 PM – Finished my book. Time to start another.

11:15 PM – Take off. Now if only I could sleep in this tiny seat.

2:30 AM – If there’s one good thing to say about Chinese immigration, it’s that it goes more quickly when yours is the only flight at the airport.

2:45 AM – Alas, immigration was too good to be true. The train to the main terminal (only 2 minutes away) takes ten minutes to show up– enough time for most of my flight to get lined up and all force into the tiny cars. The doors close. The train rolls forward 30 feet. And it stops.

3:00 AM – After sitting in place for about five minutes, the man who had been napping in one of the seats when the train arrived stirs awake and stumbles toward an access panel on the wall. I realize he’s wearing the coverall-uniform of airport maintenance. Flicking switches and jamming buttons doesn’t seem to be able to get the automatic control working

again, but he eventually is able to get us moving in manual mode by carefully sliding a throttle switch to the right. We’re moving again. At about 2 miles per hour.

3:05 AM – Mr. Maintenance’s hand slips and the train slams to a stop. A half asleep woman nearly collapses on my shins.

3:10 AM – After crawling forward another 50 feet, the automatic control seems to take mercy on us and suddenly start working again. The normal speed seems so fast compared to the manual control that I’m briefly worried that it may have forgotten the brakes. Luckily, the train stops calmly in the station and releases us toward the baggage claim.

3:30 AM – With no other transportation options, I’ve joined the long line of people hoping that a few more taxis will show up eventually.

4:00 AM – The Beijing freeways are actually quite quick with no traffic. I’m able to read a little more while cruising towards Wudaokou.

4:30 AM – I’m in the right neighborhood and we’re looking for the hotel (it’s a new one, since my usual hotel is full). I use my Google Maps printout to maneuver us to the right area, but we end up circling an area with no place for cars to enter. Finally, I spot the hotel’s neon sign at the top of a building. It’s only 100 meters away so I pay the cabbie and

walk towards the pedestrian gate.

4:45 AM – I was still upbeat after finding the first gate locked. The second one, a few hundred meters back the way I came, was more depressing. Still I found my way into the walled enclave eventually (it turned out to be a small college campus) and made my way back to the hotel. It was then that I realized the hotel had a separate entrance from the opposite side of campus. There was still a fence between me and sleep, even though I was just 10 paces from the lobby. Nothing to do but toss over my rollerbag and hop over after it. Being a giant sometimes has its perks. At least this fence had no razor wire.

4:50 AM – These are times when I wished I had been more diligent in my language studies. My brain doesn’t process Mandarin very well in the early morning and the receptionist didn’t know a word of English. My reservation number was enough to

establish who I was, but it took a while before I sussed out the rest. Apparently 5AM is a pretty late time to arrive– late enough that the hotel had assumed I was a no-show. This, of course, meant that they went ahead and gave away my room a few hours earlier. Brilliant…

5:15 AM – I walked dejectedly to the next-nearest hotel, only to get the same news: all the rooms are full.

5:30 AM – Two more hotels, same thing.

6:00 AM – By this time the sun is coming up and I’d visited my tenth hotel of the evening. It seemed like the right time to try a different option– an option like breakfast. I made my way back to a shopping mall next to the subway station. It had several restaurants, including a French-themed cafe and a KFC, but nothing opened up until around 8AM.

This brings me to my lucky break of the day. If you’ve never lived in Asia, there’s an interesting rule you’ll encounter: “If you’re at a KFC that has closed for the day, try looking behind you.” Sure enough, across the street was an even larger KFC that stayed open 24 hours a day.

6:10 AM – I collapse into the first chair I’ve seen in hours and slowly slurp the Colonel’s congee (seriously). Surprisingly enough, I was far from alone. In addition to the handful of people who seem to be starting an early morning, there are a couple dozen 20 somethings who’ve only just left the local nightclubs and are carefully discussing the merits

and detriments to showing up for class today.

7:30 AM – After resting my head on the slightly-greasy table for about an hour, I pull a new shirt out of my roller bag and haul all my possessions into the cramped bathroom to change. Looking halfway presentable, I make my way to the subway and ride the two stops to our contractor’s office building.

8:00 AM – I’ve arrived. But, none of my colleagues have. A quick phone call assures that they are on their way. I must have sounded bad, because the guy I called skipped his usual subway ride and took a cab to ensure that I was alright.

8:30 AM to 5PM – Work? Maybe? It’s a bit of a blur, to be honest. I did succeed in booking a new reservation at a different hotel though.

5:30 PM – After mumbling with the front desk and shuffling to a room, I briefly see a large object that looks vaguely like a bed before promptly passing out on top of it.

Damn it. Give me that beach!