I have vivid memories of flying as a child: I remember little Ricky running around with a stack of Post-It notes, and writing down all the aircraft registration numbers while sitting next to the window at the boarding gate. Why little Ricky cared about registration numbers or had a stack of Post-It notes instead of a proper notebook is beyond the comprehension of modern Ricky, but I guess it shows that my love of aviation carries deep roots.
Fast forward a few years, flying becomes a regular commute between home and school of a young international student. Since the flights, routes, airlines, and even flight numbers are pretty much constant, flying felt very much like a mechanical process not worthy of any attention.
It wasn’t until a rather unconventional trip many years after that rekindled my love for aviation. I was in a long distance relationship with my then love interest being in Tokyo at the time. While I didn’t expect to see her until many months after, my father suddenly suggested one day “Why don’t you just fly over?”, a proposal my mother obviously rejected.
Either way, the trip happened, and it was special in many ways: it was the first time in my memory that I flew long haul on a non-Taiwanese or American airline, and I was stunned by the service and the quality of the aircraft. It gave me enough miles to start caring about frequent flier programs, as I missed United Premier by just a narrow two or three thousand miles that year. Above all, it gave me the confidence to travel long distance to foreign lands, a trait I’ve heavily abused since.
Although the relationship with my then love interest has since ended, I found a new love in flying. About to touch down into Taipei, see you in Kaohsiung.
(The photo is of my first flight of the year, UA653 from San Francisco to Los Angeles on a Boeing 757-200)