The Lighter Side of China – Just Another "China Day"

As I write these words, I am aboard China Airlines Flight 901. I am on my way back to Beijing from Ulaanbaatar. The capital of Mongolia is a two-hour flight from Beijing, and three hours ago, Ulaanbaatar was my destination. After two attempts at landing at Genghis Khan Airport, however, the pilot decided to turn around and return to Beijing. I must say that I am happy he has done so. I feel quite lucky. At this point in my life I do not need some bravado-filled, Genghis Khan-like pilot trying to outwit a Mongolian sandstorm. If you are reading this now, it is proof I made it back to Beijing.

It’s wild, though, the thoughts you have when you’re going through an experience like this. Should I go rogue and turn my mobile phone on, try to call my wife and kids and tell them I love them? You start to become anxious because you feel your life is only half-lived. I have visions of landing in the Gobi Desert, surviving, losing my memory, being found by some yak herders and becoming a nomad. It’s funny, but the only thing I don’t regret about today was eating that Burger King Whopper at the airport earlier in the day. My struggle to shed some excess flesh seems so meaningless at this point. I suppose if I were going through this same process in the skies over Newark Airport, I would be entertaining the same thoughts – perhaps not landing in the Gobi but rather somewhere in the wilds of New Jersey and being found by some Jersey girl who asks, “Whadayadoin?”

So what does this have to do with China?

If you have lived in this country for a period of time, you may have heard a certain expression: “China Days.” It refers to those days when anything that can go wrong will pretty much go wrong. These are the days the taxi driver loses his way and just tells you to jump out – driving a laowai is just too difficult! They’re the days when you actually find a fly in your soup, along with a bit of other debris. Fifteen years ago, “China Days” were what we called the days when the phones just didn’t function. A friend once told me about an acute “China Day” where a cluster of random events put his budding sandwich franchise out of business.

I have my own definition of a “China Day” – it’s when your best day and your worst day falls on the same day. And that pretty much sums up my day so far. What makes it the worst? The events leading up to this flight, which I will describe below. What makes it the best? That I am writing this column now. I have not been defeated yet.

So here’s a summary of the past 19 hours:

7:30 a.m. On my way to the airport. Beautiful day. Arrive at the airport, get ticket, go through immigration. All good.

8:00 a.m. Arrive at gate, see sign that flight leaves at 8:30 a.m. Recognize no plane is at gate, but figure: “This is China. It will show.” Glance down, read paper.

8:10 a.m. See sign that the flight leaves at 9:00 p.m. Confusion. “Could they have gotten this wrong?” Why is it not delayed one hour, or two hours, but a whole 13 hours? We are told the delay is because of the weather in Ulaanbaatar.

9:00 a.m. Figure out what is going on. Check back out of immigration. Head to office.

9:45 a.m. Arrive at office. Check throughout the day to reconfirm departure time.

6:00 p.m. Leave office. Plan to make a quick stop at home to see kids before leaving but get caught up in heavy traffic. Go directly to airport.

7:00 p.m. Try to check in. Ticket matron says it is not certain whether the plane will fly. Tells me to wait. I ask, “How long?” She says, “Wo bu zhidao.” I smile and say thanks.

7:15 p.m. Feeling a bit hungry. Search for something healthy. Find Burger King. Purchase Whopper.

7:30 p.m. Return to ticket matron. She makes a phone call. Says she “thinks” the flight will happen. Gives me a ticket. Gate 24. Proceed to immigration. See a familiar face from the morning who informs me that the correct gate is in fact 58. Relax on the comfortable seats at Gate 58 and wait, taking in the sights, sounds and smiles of everyone else who has been waiting all day for this flight.

9:15 p.m. We’re boarding. Woo hoo! Go through ticketing again, board the runway shuttle bus and I am almost there.

9:20 p.m. I’m called off the bus. Since I was one of the passengers who hadn’t gone with the group to the waiting “hotel,” I didn’t have the proper stamp on my reissued ticket and I must now go back through immigration. I try to explain I had been through immigration already, but this is of little interest.

9:45 p.m. New ticket issued, immigration, confusion. Repeat security check. It’s my third attempt at boarding this flight. I finally proceed on the shuttle bus to the plane. Glancing at the clock on the bus, I realize that it is broken. It reads “4:42.” Ominous. Arrive at the plane, where the other hundred-plus passengers are waiting for me and two other troubled travelers to embark.

10:30 p.m. We’re off.

12:45 a.m. We try our first landing and pull up.

1:10 a.m. We try our second attempt and pull up.

1:15 a.m. The pilot announces we are heading home to the motherland.

2:15 a.m. I am typing and we are still in the air.

The lesson here? When the writing is on the wall, call it a day. Throughout the entire process, while I didn’t get angry or impatient, I had considered canceling the trip at least three times.

At the stroke of midnight, I wondered whether my “China Day” had turned into a better day. Perhaps the turnaround was a new beginning. Or maybe not. As I type this, we’ve just hit a patch of turbulence. If this piece makes it onto TheBeijinger.com, all’s good. If not, come look for me in the desert somewhere north of Beijing.

Scott Kronick is president of Ogilvy Public Relations Worldwide, North Asia.

Photo: EyeOnSpain.com