It starts in LAX. China Airlines, Flight 5.

I remember calling her up and telling her that I'd miss her. The other phone booths next to me were occupied too. An older woman in the adjacent booth was trying to get words past her tears to her loved one on the other end of the line. Maybe she was saying goodbye, or that she'd be back soon. It was in another language, so I couldn't tell. In the booth next to hers was another person in deep conversation. I didn't bother eavesdropping too much since I was in a call too.

The departure was slightly delayed, so I read and stared at walls for longer than I anticipated. When it was time to go, I put my book away and grabbed my carry-on luggage. Let's take a vacation, I thought, for once.

My last memory of a troubled flight was to the Philippines when I was just a boy: the turbulence was so violent I wasn't sure if the plane wasn't going to make it to the ground in one coherent piece. There was a lot of shaking and a violent drop that made everyone panic a little.

Nothing happened this time. 16 hours of smooth flight. The Taipei stopover was quiet -- I thought I was the only English-speaking person on the entire trip.

First stop: Taipei. Then a 3 hour hop to Bangkok via Flight 65.

Being silent for most of the trip was inspiring and frightening at the same time. I think the only time I talked on the plane was when the hostess asked me if I wanted chicken or pork. I didn't pack a pen or a notepad, so I couldn't jot while on the flights. I wish I did, though.