15,259 Miles Later, Part I

Our PCS trip to Rangoon last week broke records for each of us, including longest consecutive air travel time and longest individual flight.

When you add up the 2,731 miles it took me to cross the United States by car, the additional 879 miles I motored around the west coast before dropping off my car at my dad’s, and the 11,649 miles traveled by plane, you get 15,259. Fifteen thousand, two hundred and fifty nine miles of total wear and tear on the body for what will be both our farthest-away and our shortest tour yet.

Third-longest prior trip

It’s possible that my 2017 trip from Tashkent to Seoul to San Francisco, followed by a three-hour road trip to my mom’s was my third longest-ever total trip for the distance I went (around 8,700 flight miles as the crow flies). On the blog I wrote about the Saturday that lasted for 41 hours as I chased the sunsets west, and all the after-effects on my body of that trip, which helps me remember it now. However, that trip also included a 12-hour layover in Seoul during which time I entered South Korea and went sightseeing.

Second-longest prior trip

Similarly, my 2005 move to grad school in Australia had a Skopje-Vienna-Kuala Lumpur-Sydney routing that included 25 hours of flight time not counting transit and layovers. At around 10,400 miles as the crow flies, I believe that puts it in second place. And that was the second leg of the trip, after I had already flown to Eastern Europe from California and spent almost a month traveling through the former Yugoslavia. Evidently I thought it would be fun to move to Australia backwards via an around-the-world set of flights! Long hauls are familiar to me.

And the longest flight yet

Still, the 26+ hour flight time on my Portland-Atlanta-Seoul-Rangoon routing with over 11,600 flight miles broke a barrier that will resonate with folks who have traveled between the United States and Asia.

And, the Atlanta-Seoul leg at 15 hours, 25 minutes was the longest individual flight I’ve ever taken. The closest I’ve gotten before was the direct flight we took between San Francisco and Sydney in 2017 as I began my Australia assignment: it came in at 14.5 hours, a close second.

The length and distance to Burma was a new level, and one we were determined to survive as comfortably as possible.

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Portland to Atlanta

With those stats in mind, the final part of my journey to Burma started in Portland, Oregon. As V prepared to nap for a few hours in our temporary apartment in Virginia before collecting the cat and flying in the wee hours to Atlanta, my dad and I sat in an Indian casino off Interstate 5 and enjoyed a delicious dinner. As we played a few rounds of video poker, I had to laugh at how abruptly my life was about to change.

My dad pulled up at the departures terminal over three hours before my flight intending to help me check my bags curbside. However, no airline staff were in the empty outdoor kiosk, and my dad couldn’t leave his truck in the unloading zone to accompany me inside.

So we said a hasty goodbye and I muscled my bags comically through the revolving door. My dad pulled his truck over in the cell phone waiting area; my borderline-irrational paranoia about being told I can’t check something or have to ditch a carry-on is well-known.

Fortunately, the airline bag drop counter was deserted and no other passengers were in line. As a first-class passenger with a diplomatic passport, I was treated with extra courtesy by the airline personnel who appeared to be lounging around and just waiting for someone to laugh with. They checked my bags all the way through with no questions asked, and I called my dad to say all was well.

I had already eaten dinner, so all that was left to do was to pretend my carry-ons weren’t heavy as I proceeded through security to the gate. Portland couldn’t have made things any easier; I didn’t have to remove my shoes or take out laptops and liquids. Soon enough I was at the gate, a little worried after receiving an in-app alert my flight would be delayed. Ultimately there was no delay, and I was one of the first to board. I settled into my first class window seat in the first row of the aircraft.

The flight was completely full: every seat sold out. The gate crew made announcements soliciting people to check their carry-on roller bags free of charge to Atlanta. In my mind’s eye, picturing my two carry-ons carefully packed with 10 vintage luxury purses, six months of prescription medications, two laptops, all of our civil documents, and a large amount of jewelry, even the idea of someone trying to take my bags out of my sight almost caused me to break out in a sweat. I thanked my lucky stars again that I was flying first class and didn’t have to be anxious this flight about no room for my stuff.

As flight attendants were about to shut the door, one seat remained empty on the plane. Just then I heard a walkie-talkie crackle with an excited voice and the last passenger burst onto the plane with a small backpack grasped to his chest. A few people laughed and applauded, including me. I used to wonder in such situations why people would cut it so close; after years of missed connections and frantic rushes through terminals, I was more sympathetic.

Atlanta to Seoul

Five hours later, I landed in Atlanta to a message from V saying the airline had unexpectedly counted the cat carrier as a carry-on. We’d not understood that would happen, so V had arrived at Dulles with the cat carrier, his backpack, and a small roller bag.

While dropping off his two checked suitcases, he’d had to consolidate his backpack and carry-on roller bag under time pressure, transferring his most valuable and necessary items before checking the roller bag (for which he was charged $100!). It wasn’t a great start for him, but more concerning was that, in the rush to avoid holding up the line, the portable litter box hadn’t made it into his backpack. I sent him a comforting message, knowing he was in the air and wouldn’t be able to read it until he landed. We’ll figure it out, I’d typed. It will be OK.

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I met V at his arrival gate with my giant coffee and we proceeded together to the gate where we would depart for Seoul. On the way, we stopped at the pet relief area in our terminal and tried to convince our cat Dzish to go to the bathroom. However, the area catered to dogs and our poor cat was so terrified when we took him out of his carrier and set him on the turf he simply froze.

We didn’t have any litter or sand. We couldn’t find anyone who did, and none of the little shops in the terminal sold it. Uh oh, I thought, looking at our cat’s furry scared face. If only there was a way to really explain things to your pets. It’s in your interest to pee NOW, while you still can, I would’ve told him.

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We were in boarding zone three, but we requested (and received) permission to board early with our cat. As we settled in for the long flight to Seoul, we were a little dismayed to see the pet carrier wouldn’t slide all the way under the seat in front of V’s aisle seat. It stuck out, really impeding V’s foot space. Obviously we couldn’t put the carrier in the overhead compartment, and we weren’t allowed to hold it on our laps. We switched middle and aisle seats between us, but it was the same thing.

I wondered once the person in the window seat of our row arrived if they would complain. When she did arrive, she was a small lady who liked cats, didn’t mind at all, and slept most of the flight. Funnily enough, her mother tongue was also Serbian and she and V chatted it up for hours in their native language. We couldn’t have asked for a better seat mate.

The hours passed, slowly but steadily, with all the window shades pulled down and the plane shrouded in darkness. The meals and snacks were few and forgettable. Even though it was the middle of the day, it seemed the airline crew was trying to help us avoid boredom and jet lag by lulling us all to sleep on a Seoul clock. I don’t sleep on planes more than nodding off for a few minutes here and there, so I entertained myself with music, podcasts, and all the Netflix shows I’d downloaded to my iPad over wifi before leaving my dad’s. I’d even brought two pairs of headphones and while one was charging at my seat, I’d use the other.

When we finally landed in Seoul, V and I smiled at each other, ready to stretch our legs. We had survived our longest flight. Our cat had released some plaintive meows during the last hour of the flight, and we wanted to give him another chance to use the bathroom.

I assumed we would have time to eat a restaurant meal, maybe find a pet relief area, and relax a little during our three-hour layover before the onward flight to Rangoon. Sadly for us, that would not exactly be the case.

To be continued…