I had brought along Tender is the Night to read. Oddly, I had also brought that one along on my previous overseas trip, to Denmark over four years before, but I hadn’t read more than a few pages of it back then. I didn’t really feel like reading just now either; but with nothing else to occupy my time, I think I did go ahead and get started on it. Of course I don’t remember those three hours in much detail at all. I have only the vaguest reflection of getting on the plane. I think I probably gave some thought to the trip to Denmark along the way, and how wonderful fun that had been, and how different – but still fun – this was. This was even more of an adventure, working without a net, with no friends or translators for me in Taiwan as I’d had in Denmark. But there was also the fact that there was no joyous reunion awaiting me at the end of this odyssey. I’m sure I heard Harry Chapin reminding me that “You know there ain’t no rainbow waiting when this journey ends!”
That was the truth! But at least it might be warmer in Taipei. I don’t actually remember wondering about that, but I did write in August 2004 that I remembered thinking as much. So I probably did.

But back to the plane. As I said, only the vaguest memory of boarding. But board I definitely did. It’s a pretty short flight from Baltimore to New York, probably not even an hour. My next clear memory is looking down as the plane approached JFK and seeing all the neat backyards of Long Island stretched out below. I do love New York, but this was all I was going to see of it for quite some time. That, of course, provided yet another unnecessary reminder that this really was a very big leap I was taking.

I don’t specifically recall getting off the plane. I do remember hours of wandering around JFK – also bringing to mind memories of the trip to Denmark, which was the last time I was at that airport. I know that it was still light out – and thus fairly early, this being February – when I made my way to the inter-terminal shuttle. I think I rode it down to the next terminal, only to realize I was in the right one to begin with, or something like that. I also ate a nice steak dinner at some point at a sit-down restaurant near the concourse. I’m not sure what order those came in.

In any case, I did end up at the end of a rather long line for getting checked in for international departures. I also remember getting to the head of that line and then being directed to another one. I can’t recall if I was in the wrong line or just had to go through both of them. In any case, I was directed off to a room intended strictly for international departures, and I believe there were customs forms to fill out for China Airlines. I remember waiting quite some time for an attendant to become available. I also remember making small talk with someone else who was to be on the same flight. Once an attendant was available, though, the process was quick and painless and I was finally free to proceed to the elusive terminal. After all that trouble, I was once again free to wait.

The terminals in JFK are big, like everything about New York. It was quite dark by then, and I can recall sitting there in the middle of the room and watching the overhead TV. Probably CNN if I recall correctly. I still had Tender is the Night at the ready and may have read some more of it, but I don’t remember. There was also a bit of small talk with a Taiwanese guy who was probably surprised that I was going his way. The wait was long, but not as long as the one back in Baltimore. Happily, I had killed quite a bit of time trying to find the terminal and discovering I was already there and waiting in the customs line and wandering around aimlessly and wondering what on earth I was doing, but being pretty happy about it all!

Boarding the plane to Anchorage was probably one of the most significant moments of the entire journey. I do remember it rather vaguely, but of course it was just a walk down the tunnel to the plane. I remember having seen the French newspapers at the gate when I left for Denmark and hoping there might be such a thing this time, but of course there wasn’t. I can’t even remember for sure if there were any Chinese ones, but I think there probably were.

New York to Anchorage is about seven hours by plane, and it’s over some of the most desolate places on earth. Even for a guy who loves to travel as much as I do, that leg of the trip really wasn’t that much fun. I was truly in the no turning back stage now. Right up to the moment I got on that plane at JFK, I always had the option of turning tail and running. I like to think I never would have done so, but surely I was aware that the option existed. Now, quite definitively, it didn’t! I’m quite sure I spent a lot of those seven hours with my nose buried in Tender is the Night, but I don’t recall for sure. (I do remember that I didn’t actually finish the book until I’d been in Taiwan for a month or so. I didn’t like it very much.) My one vivid memory of that period was looking out the window somewhere over the Northwest Territories and seeing exactly one light down there somewhere. Absolutely desolate, and the darkness was already starting to get to me! I probably tried to sleep, but I don’t think I succeeded.

Upon landing in Anchorage, I believe we were allowed to leave our carryon stuff on board if we wished, but I don’t recall for certain. I do know they should have let us leave it there, because the cabin definitely looked lived-in when we got back on board an hour later. In any case, I do remember the layover pretty well. It was 2:00 a.m. in Alaska, in February. Once again, one of the more desolate memories of the whole trip. They did open the airport gift and duty-free shop for us, and they did have quite a collection of stuff. I almost bought a t-shirt, a cheap bottle of whiskey, and various other treats; but they would have just made for additional stuff to lug around until I finally got settled in Taiwan. That, of course, was a couple of weeks away at the time!

The waiting room looked vaguely rustic. I think it might have been under construction and/or remodeling. Of course most of the airport was closed. Boring. But the trip was nearly half over! Keltie, the gal I would ride into Taipei with the next day, was milling around as well. I didn’t meet her officially at that time, but I do recall recognizing her when we found ourselves together on the shuttle bus at the Taipei airport.

I certainly wasn’t sorry when we were allowed back on the plane! But I think my lack of regret only lasted until I learned this flight would be even longer than the last one. Over ten hours. Ouch. Although the flight was longer, it can be summed up more succinctly than the one from New York. I did a lot of reading, that much I recall for certain this time. I also watched Lost in Translation (how apt!) in various nonconsecutive snatches throughout the flight. I think I probably ended up seeing the whole movie, but I can’t confirm that. I tried to sleep, but succeeded only long enough to spill orange juice on my passport. That, paradoxically, is now one of the more lighthearted memories of the whole trip, as the passport cleaned up nicely and even now has a touch of that pleasant, sweet scent to it.

It was also around this time that I realized my clothes were probably starting to smell pretty funky, especially after the orange juice incident. I was wearing a dark grey cardigan sweater, which I believe Lisa’s mother had given me a few Christmases before. While the first month or two in Taiwan were definitely sweater worthy weather, I’m almost certain I didn’t wear that sweater again for a long time, even though I’d washed it! The perpetual darkness really started to get to me on that leg of the trip, too. Twenty straight hours of darkness, I think I figured out later on. There was also the cramped seating of coach class (on my trip back a year and a half later, I had no qualms at all about shelling out extra for business class!) and the heavy memory of what had led me to making such a big change.