When we boarded the jet and I saw our seats – though pod is better descriptor – I realized this contraption was more like a cockpit that reclines fully to transform into a bed. This was moment I realized I could actually sleep on a plane. I typically never drink alcohol when I fly, but I accepted a crystal flute of champagne when offered once buckled in for the flight. 

Oh for crying out loud! They put a white tablecloth on my pull-out tray. My repast began with an ornate porcelain bowl of mixed nuts and sparkling water with a twist of lime, followed by a glass of French red. It was a 2018 Chateau Smith Haut Lafitte—a “real” wine. “Yes, Niko,” I told my personal attendant, “I’ll have a second.” Why not? The rules of the earth no longer apply. As our personal chariot sped through the sky at nearly 700 mph, I tapped the button to make my already comfortable seat morph into a bed.

I must say, though looking forward to the destination, I was dreading this journey. But dang, I feel good. Now we no longer have the anticipation of being forced to sit upright on a plane for 11 hours after already taking 2 flights and associated layovers that same day. Put that way, it seemed like a death sentence. To rectify that hell, we have discovered a beautiful, shimmering secret hiding in plain sight. We are flying on EVA Air’s Royal Laurel class seats. Rated the best long haul business class seats on the market. My hopes were already high, but flying like this was so much better than I imagined as the cabin darkened, the ceiling dissolved into star-like mood lighting to make sleeping a tad easier. It was mesmerizing.

Seven hours of restful sleep later I awake with a knowing smile; I’ve turned a decided corner. Several ingredients were carefully blended together: age, wisdom, and maybe even health. Now the decision has been made that I will never fly coach in a long-haul flight again. Sure, I had to sell a kidney to get on board but still have other body parts to let go of. I hear there is a guy working out of the village of Hougang just south of Shanghai in China who will pay a pretty penny for one of my blue/green eyes. We must forge a way to avoid flying coach on the way home somehow!

As I write, a white tablecloth has been set for my breakfast. ‘Earl Grey, hot.’ Oh, and yes, I am still wearing my provided slippers, and a soft blanket is covering my lower legs. I opted not to wear the pajamas offered, though we nabbed them later while deplaning. They became Diane’s (and my—shhhh) uniform when lounging around our Airbnb during our stay.

So, it was fish at 7 a.m. Is that a little weird for you? A shrimp (with shell), a piece of cod, and… something referred to as a ‘fish ball.’ Which, I understand, is anatomically incorrect.  I stared at those fish balls, wondering what part of a fish they actually came from. They stared back. We reached a silent, trans-Pacific standoff over my white tablecloth. I know you are thinking either ‘yum’ or ‘ummmm.’ To be clear, I thought I had ordered the Western breakfast. I’m not complaining, but I skipped that part and just had fresh fruit and a muffin. My striking Taiwanese attendant gave me a hesitant quizzical look. I told her fish for a Westerner for breakfast was quite unheard of; she seemed genuinely mystified. This caused me to question the eating habits of Americans especially with British ancestry. Having Fish for lunch at 11 a.m. is fine, yet three hours earlier is not? Really? Then, no scrambled eggs after 10:30 a.m.? Also, there is the unwritten rule that a cold ham and cheese sandwich for lunch is perfectly fine, yet for dinner, it is viewed as lazy and sad.

As I gaze out my window at the final approach to Seattle, my emotions are a cross between the warm feeling of familiarity and the longing of nostalgia. Then cruising through immigration was nothing less than outstanding. It was how it always should have always been. Times have changed; technology has caught up. No line, then a total of 28 seconds was spent with the immigration officer. I could almost feel the wind in our hair as I breeze through.

We’ve picked up our rental car, then viewed our perfect Airbnb and eventually found ourselves rolling up the door at our rental unit for the first time in 2.5 years. Like unprepared people that were discovered lost in the woods, we gratefully grabbed some warmer clothes and formed somewhat of a game plan for tomorrow. Yes, Taco Time was soon accomplished, where the familiar flavors were comforting. The two crisp tacos and mexi-fries will not be on any culinary lists for greatness, but for me, they made my eyes dampen as if I were receiving a hug from an old friend I hadn’t seen in a long time.

When we left our condo in Chiang Mai and got into our airport-bound taxi, I started a stopwatch. When we arrived at our Airbnb my iPhone proclaimed we had journeyed 23 hours and 43 minutes of travel. Due to the ‘jet stream’, the return leg from Seattle to Taipei will be 2 grueling hours longer. Even with our mondo bitchin’ seats that will be a challenge to say the least. Thirteen hours on a plane is its own phycological endurance test. But luckily, there is a direct flight from Taipei to home in Chiang Mai.