Near as I can count, the flight from Sydney was the thirty-eighth time I’ve flown across the Pacific. Depending on the direction and wind, it takes around fourteen hours, give or take. Hours nine to eleven are reliably the worst, when it seems it will never end, when I resort to counting trans-Pacific flights instead of sheep.

If you are smart or lucky, the eastbound flight will leave you in Vancouver, or San Francisco, or even Dallas. But most of the time it will dump you at LAX, which is reliably unpleasant yet entertaining. Stepping off the plane in LA I revelled in my first American greeting being a cheery “Hola!” from the first ground service agent. Continue reading 04. On The Campaign Trail →