In the previous few years, I had been fortunate enough to travel a lot. International flights no longer fazed me.

After my exam, I jumped on the MRT to Taipei Main Station and had some lunch. Knowing that aeroplane meals are built for “average” appetites, I decided to eat more beforehand. Lunch was mediocre but filling, and I went upstairs to the bus terminal. The bus was already there; it left every 20 minutes or so, and I had plenty of time, but I still purchased my ticket and ran for it.

The ride to the airport was filled with happiness at the thought of seeing my family, tempered by sadness at leaving Taipei. I exchanged several text messages on the way and soon arrived.

A long line had formed at check-in, although I was three hours early, which was a record for me, as previous posts will attest. I checked in mostly without hassle. I didn’t actually have an e-ticket, but apparently the ticket was in the office. From there, I made my way to the gate.

An hour later, airline staff informally asked me to leave the gate for additional screening. I found the process puzzling, particularly because passengers had already been left alone in the gate area before the screening began. The system clearly had its flaws.

Everyone boarded the plane and, as usual, I tried to be one of the last people on. Since I hadn’t selected my seat, which I normally did, I was stuck in the very last row. Luckily, I was the only passenger across four seats, so I could spread out. The challenge on an eastward flight was working out how to minimise jet lag. Normally, you try to sleep during the hours you would be sleeping at your destination, or at least during as many overlapping hours as possible. My problem was that I wasn’t just going to LAX; after landing in the afternoon, I had a second red-eye to Atlanta. When I boarded the plane in Taipei, it was 4:00am in Atlanta. I slept for the first few hours, but since I usually went to bed at 1:00am or later, sleeping was difficult. Eventually I gave in and watched movies. About five of them.

LAX was a difficult airport, especially because my connection was through the old section, which had once been top-notch when TWA owned it. It had become a construction maze, with elevators delivering travellers to unexpected floors. Since I had ten hours to fill, however, I wasn’t in a hurry.

Somehow I spent those ten hours at LAX, mostly writing my Thailand journal, reading, and passing time on my laptop. I met a man travelling to Atlanta unexpectedly after a death in his family. At around 9:15, I boarded my flight and took my second red-eye to Atlanta.

The flying time was only four hours, which surprised me. My flight touched down around 5:15am. I collected my bags and jumped on MARTA, Atlanta’s public transport system. I rode the train for about an hour to the final stop, where I tried to call my sister. Unfortunately, the first phone didn’t work properly; she couldn’t hear me, even after calling back. The second phone simply ate my quarter, leaving me with only one coin and not enough to make another call. Somehow, I persuaded the ticketing attendant to let me use a phone and learned that my sister was on her way.

Twenty minutes later, a very long 20 minutes after that flight, my sister and her fiancée picked me up on the bottom floor of the parking garage.

Overall, the journey was decent and nothing major happened. Security wasn’t a particular problem for me; I had been thoroughly hassled before, once enough to miss a flight and another time almost enough. My one conclusion from this journey was that I hated checked luggage and never wanted to use it again. For the most part, I travelled only with a perfectly sized backpack. With a sleeping bag attached, I could carry it onto the plane; without the sleeping bag, I could add my laptop. Since I was bringing a suit on this trip, I decided to check everything. Never again. At LAX, I waited an hour for my luggage to reach baggage claim. The bags from Taipei came last, after those from Kuala Lumpur, and mine was among the final pieces to appear.