I used to get so excited whenever I went on airplanes. The rush of excitement I'd get from going into the airport. The rush of adrenaline that pumps in my blood when I see the suitcases being rolled across the shiny tiles and the modern architecture that holds the huge building together. I used to jump with glee as I pulled my little suitcase up the escalators and ran across the floor with the wind brushing through my hair like in one of those cartoons with superfluous use of dramatic effects.

Of course, the best part was getting on the flight. As I boarded the plane with my parents, I remember the glee as I rushed past the aisle seats with the flight attendants smiling at me and the windows opened with light flooding in and the smell of fresh carpets and clean seats. It was like an adventure.

This time I went to China was the first time I remember being bored and exhausted the whole time while on the plane. I walked into the airport with an inkling of excitement. But as time passed by, I began to realize how excruciatingly boring it got. All the waiting felt more drawn out than I last remembered and all the security check-ins and talking felt more tiring than exciting. Even as I got into the plane, all I wanted to do was to sit down and avoid talking to the flight attendants, not because I didn't like them, but because I was exhausted and just wanted some alone time.

I even remember getting annoyed by one of the flight attendants for making fun of my Chinese. The whole journey took 13 hours but from the restless sleep, the constant boredom, and the lack of space to move, it felt like 20. It felt really tedious and shortly I started to understand what my parents meant when they said it wasn't easy to make a trip to China.