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How to Make the Best of a Long Haul Flight


How to Make the Best of a Long Haul Flight:

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How to Make the Best of a Long Haul Flight
I think it’s safe to say that few people enjoy long-haul flights. But here’s how to safely survive a couple of days trapped in an aluminum canister with your sanity intact.
This post originally appeared on Map Happy.
Some flights pass by in the blink of an eye; some drag on forever. The good news is that some flights are better than others and there are things that will help mitigate the journey along the way. Don’t also underestimate the power of dread; long-haul flights are intimidating if you travel infrequently, but it’s not near as bad as you think it is after the hundredth time.
I’ve definitely flown my fair share, including some rough routes. The worst flight I’ve ever endured involved a 12-hour flight from Hong Kong to Istanbul, followed by another 13-hour flight from Istanbul to Los Angeles. Instead of traditionally flying over the Pacific, I basically flew in the other direction. The layover was eight hours long. (It was cheap and it was for the holidays, what can I say?)
It should be noted that this advice mostly applies to people who are flying international long-haul flights in economy class. If you’re in business class, you might want to take your glass of wine and hang out on a different part of this site.

Seating

How to Make the Best of a Long Haul Flight
Like on any flight, a good seat is paramount. On a transcontinental or transoceanic flight, though, trust me, you want an aisle seat. No matter how much you hate it, there is no way anyone can avoid the airplane bathroom over a 12-hour period.
If you’re sitting in an airplane that has a three-row configuration—where there is a section of seats on the left side of the plane, followed by a middle section, and section on the right side—you should opt for one of the aisle seats in the middle section in particular. Though it may not seem obvious, this seat has several advantages.
Most importantly, it gives you easy access to the aisle and bathroom while also giving the people sitting in the middle seats two options to get to the aisle. This should automatically reduces your chances of getting climbed over (or having to politely exit your seat so others can get out) by 50 percent or somewhat significantly. The aisle seats toward the left and right section of the plane don’t have this advantage.

Moving

How to Make the Best of a Long Haul Flight
It’s actually quite important to keep the blood flowing while you’re sitting down for ages. Though it’s not happened to me personally, AllThingsD’s Kara Swisher suffered a transient ischemic attack, or a “mini stroke,” on a plane en route to Hong Kong a couple of years ago when blood temporarily stopped flowing to her brain.
For those concerned, some of the foreign carriers are pretty good at demonstrating in-flight exercises in their safety videos. (CNN also has an instructional airline yoga article, who knew?) I always use bathroom breaks as a periodic opportunity to stretch my legs and either hang out in the back of the galley, at least for a few minutes, or walk down the aisle once or twice.

Eating

How to Make the Best of a Long Haul Flight
In the days leading up to the flight, I would stick to fairly light and healthy meals. There’s nothing worse than sitting with a Mexican burrito like a stone in your stomach when you’re trapped in an aluminized tube of claustrophobia. When you combine this with large periods of no movement, you’re going to feel pretty gross.
Though some people suggest skipping the meal service to combat jet lag, this depends on your own personal discipline. (I have a particularly strong sense of smell and the olfactory cues kick in my hunger pangs. Even watching The Food Network is sometimes a form of masochism.) Airlines actually tend to serve more correct portions—think Asian and European sizes—so I just generally take whatever the flight attendant puts in front of me. However, if that’s not going to be enough, pack something that’s easy to snack on.
During the meal service is when the aisle seat particularly comes into handy. Once the food is served and half of the plane begins to digest their food, you can be sure that the bathroom is going to be pretty popular soon. Don’t forget the fact you’re most likely on a pretty big-ass plane, which means there are lots of people on board. If you wait too long to do your business, you run the risk of being uncomfortable in your seat while everyone uses the loo.
In fact, there is an opportune time to go. There should be a fairly short window when the flight attendants have served the food and are no longing blocking the path to the bathroom just right before the meal trays are collected. Now, for some reason, people like to wait until the trays are collected before getting up from your seat. This is actually your golden opportunity, should you choose to take it.
Though it’s annoying to hold up your tray table and set it back down to get to the aisle, it’s going to be a lot more annoying waiting for six people to finish using the bathroom. Going to the bathroom during this in-between time ensures you won’t have to wait later, and even better, it means that you still have a relatively clean bathroom before everyone else has used it. This is especially true if this just happens to occur after the first meal service.1

Sleeping

How to Make the Best of a Long Haul Flight
Especially because international flights usually serve free booze, people often resort to alcohol to help them sleep. Unfortunately, not only is alcohol a depressant, it’s also a dehydrating agent, so I actually generally discourage drinking on the plane. When you combine this with the pressurized cabin of an airplane, its effects can be amplified. I also can personally tell you this as someone who once fainted in the middle of an aisle during a 9-hour flight from Singapore to Australia.
In terms of tangible objects, investing in a cheap eye mask and earplugs work magic, and I do mean *magic* in terms of improving the quality of your sleep and regulating your circadian rhythm by limiting light. Travel pillows do considerably less in comparison; pillows are one of those things you’re better off using the complimentary one onboard. Not only are most airline pillows sufficient, you’ll also have one less thing to carry on the plane with you.
Getting to actual sleep is a far trickier business. Some people swear by complete sleep deprivation; I prefer to do things a little bit less drastically, especially if you have to work in the days preceding the trip. That said, shortening your normal sleep by a few hours does help. (Last-minute packing does wonders!) It’s not necessary, however, to feel like you need to get on the time zone of your destination immediately. This will either occur eventually or not at all.
In frequent traveler circles, some people like to cite melatonin as one of the more natural remedies for visiting the Sandman. The truth is, though, this is really dependent on how your body reacts to it like any other drug. While I’ve had poor results, I know others who swear by it. I would prefer melatonin if it actually worked for me, but the alternative is using more traditional over-the-counter sleeping aids.
Though Ambien is one of the more popular sleeping-pill brands, I’ve had excellent results withUnisom. It knocks me out faster than a light on even half the suggested dosage. For a flight, I would suggest to take only a quarter of a pill. Personally, I’m not sure if I would try a sleeping aid for the first time on a flight without knowing how it affects me beforehand. (Its active ingredient is doxylamine succinate but clearly check with your doctor before trying it. It can also leave users slightly groggy.)
Unfortunately, there is a small segment of the population that just won’t be able to sleep on a plane, no matter what they do. This does happen to me from time to time, and I can tell you that it’s anything but fun. Torture is staring at the plane’s current route on the in-flight entertainment system in pure silence.

Jet Lag

How to Make the Best of a Long Haul Flight
Everything starts from the minute you book the flight. If it’s inevitable that you’re going to have a flight with a connection, try booking the connection at the end. Nothing is more draining than beginning a 12-hour flight after you’ve spent three or five hours flying across the country just to get to the hardest portion of it. This may or may not be possible depending on where you live – travelers that live in major hub cities often have the most choices.
If you’re fortunate enough to be able to reverse the connection so it happens at the end, this puts the hardest part, the long-haul portion, upfront. Not only will you have more energy to deal with the most taxing part of the flight, but by the time you make the connection, you’ll be exhausted. It sounds counterintuitive, but it’s actually not: by the time you reach the connection, you’ll end up sleeping through most if not the entire second leg. Most of the time, I end up passing the time in a wonderful, pure state of black unconsciousness.
The main thing I look at, besides connection points and costs, when booking flights more than anything else is the arrival time. One of the most important factors in beating jet lag has to do with remembering that it’s a lot easier to go to bed later than to wake up earlier. Keeping this in mind, flights that have a late afternoon or nighttime arrival are preferred. If you arrive earlier, all it means is that you’ll have to stay up a whole lot longer. (The key is tokeep moving when you arrive until you have to go to bed; once you start resting, it’s game over.)
To get a good idea of when I should be sleeping on the plane, I usually immediately change the time settings to my destination on my phone once the aircraft is en route. Though it’s pretty tempting to pass the whole flight in a complete state of unconsciousness, sleeping the entire time can mess up your internal clock just as much.
The cabin crew is pretty good at giving visual cues during a flight; for instance, they’ll dim the cabin lights when it’s a good time to rest or turn them completely on and be in-your-face during specific intervals. The point is to not be deterred if you can’t sync your body exactly, but to sleep proportionately when you need to. Even if the best you can do is to flip flop the waking and sleeping portions of the flight, it will still help overcome serious jet lag.
If you’re on a long-haul flight, the chances are pretty high that we’re looking at a minimum time zone shift of six to twelve hours (unless you’re traveling north-to-south or south-to-north). If I sleep for half or up to three-quarters of the flight to anticipate an approximately 12-hour time zone change, I consider that a job well done. I find 6-hour time zone changes—give or take a few hours—are the hardest to acclimate to. If you’re flying east to Europe from the U.S. East Coast, you’ll run into these.

In a nutshell…

The thing about most of these tips is that what may work for another person may be completely different, but like anything, it’s only over time and with lots of practice does someone get used to flying long distance. Still, many of the strategies I mentioned can cut down significantly on the stress of flying. The important thing to remember is that, thankfully, the flight does eventually end.

How to Survive Air Travel Like a Zen Master


How to Survive Air Travel Like a Zen Master:

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How to Survive Air Travel Like a Zen MasterEXPAND
This is how you survive the airport: Arrive early. Arrive early? Sounds simple. It is—let me show you. Arrive so early that a friend will text you, What R U sixty years old? No, you’re not sixty, you’re much older, because the wisdom of the early arrival seems to have eluded even most sixty-year-old travelers.
This post originally appeared on Medium.
Authorities recommend arriving two hours before international flights. I say four. Get there four hours before your flight. You are a hundred and fifty years old. Your friends laugh at you. Have patience.
Arrive early and move through the airport like the Dalai Lama. You are in no rush. All obstacles are taken in stride, patiently, with a smile. Approach the nearly empty check-in counter. Walk up and say, I’m a bit early but I’m here to check in to … Marvel at their surprise and then their generosity. Suddenly you are always able to get an exit row or bulkhead seat. Suddenly, sure, they can slip you into Business. Suddenly tickets that are supposedly unchangeable, cannot be modified, are, after a few calls, some frowns, upbeat goodbyes, specially modifiable for you. This is what happens when there is no one behind you in line to check in.
Move then to security. Fear not the nonsensical theater. The half-gaze of those supposedly looking for murderers, jihadists. Transformers was CRAP, one yells. Fear not the bottle checks, dreaded liquid checks. Sorry, sir, 3.2 oz, finger wag, we cannot abide, checks. Fear not holding up those behind you in line as you unlace your shoes, remove your belt, disrobe various layers in the name of flight safety, in the name of keeping shoe bombs and belt bombs and baby milk bombs from dropping planes from the sky one after another. Fear none of this because the line is nearly empty. The queue sparse. The rush yet to hit.
Male opt-out. You know, sir, these machines are safe now. I know, but that’s what you told me last year with the old machines. You know, sir, you get more radiation on the flight. Oh, do I? Well, then, I better be sure to cut it down any chance I get.
Male opt-out. Take deep breaths as they yell or whisper the words into the air. Much likeapps, there is no sense in opt-out delegation. You feel no stress. You are the Dalai Lama. You are hacking the airport by arriving early, knowing that all the work you could have done at home — the emails or writing or photo editing — can be done at the airport. Just a bit farther.
Male opt-out. Back of the hands on sensitive areas. Most sensitive part of the hands on the most sensitive areas? You don’t know if this makes you any more comfortable. Pat-downs sometimes fast, like gibberish. Anyone with explosives hidden about their testicles, below their giant breasts, would have made it through. Pat-downs slow. Extra long, uncomfortably long right buttocks check. Doesn’t matter. Time is on your side. Alright sir, no bomb residue, free to go, thank you.
Three hours or more until flight. Perfect. You find a bathroom. Your gait is soft, you pad gently, float across the carpeted terminal. You are in no hurry. You are the Dalai Lama. Urinate with a hitherto unknown calm. You made it. So much time to spare. You’ve survived the deceptive gauntlets between you and the plane. Zip.
Next, scout. Scout the terminal. Walk its length. All of it. You have three hours. Look for the healthiest possible food. Does such a thing exist? It does, surprisingly. Sometimes. Not always, but often enough. Finding it requires patience. This you have. Make note of its location.
The next task is the most difficult step. You are looking for the CNN-free zone. The MSNBC-free zone. The blare-free, drone-free zone. The zone without the talking heads. A zone calm. The listen-to-your-thoughts zone. The get-work-done zone. The read-a-book zone. The just-let-me-sit-there zone. You’re looking for the small corner of rationality in a world of nonstop tickers.
Appropriately enough, this quiet space, this neglected corner of the terminal, usually provides refuge to airport employees on break. In the same way you want to eat at the Indian restaurant full of Indians, you, too, want to hang out in the part of the terminal those native to the environment find most comfortable.
Take a perch. Plug in your laptop. Smile to your uniformed comrades. They ignore you or give you disparaging looks. Do the work you would have done at home. Your flight leaves in hours. Break. Eat the healthy food. Board.
This is how you survive the plane:
You will balk. You will say, I cannot do that. But you must, I say. Of all the tricks I have developed over 13 years and one hundred plus international flights, no trick provides more pleasure per dollar, more comfort once you’ve landed than this trick. This trick I give to you gratis: the mask. Wait! Don’t run away. Hear me out. The white mask, the trick of Japanese travelers for decades, handed out in Economy Plus and Business Class on All Nippon Airways, the universal symbol for bird flu, the surgeon’s face armor. The mask’s role is two-fold: protect you from the horror that is the air aboard airplanes, and create a microclimate for your nose and mouth.
They say the Dreamliner has a higher humidity (10%-15%) than your average plane (7%). Sure, and there are tiny shaded spots in the Gobi Desert that, too, have higher humidity than those spots in direct sunlight. Don’t mean it’s comfortable.
People will stare at the masked you. Concerned American women will ask if you’re OK. Your British seat mate will shift uncomfortably. Simply lean over and offer him one, a mask. Smile. Remember, you are calm. You are the Dalai Lama. You have been Doing Work for hours while others worried their way through check-in and security. Smile (they’ll see it in your eyes even if your mouth is covered). Always carry two masks for this purpose. To disarm. You are a missionary of the Church of Mask. Confidently spread your microclimate knowledge of personal humidity.
By arriving early you have a bulkhead seat or exit row seat (surviving the airplane is contingent on masterfully surviving the airport). Enjoy the legroom. Stretch regularly. Deep vein thrombosis really is a thing.
Chill on your laptop that plays midwestern thunderstorms through your noise-canceling headphones atop your earplugs.
Work a bit. Do the work that thrives on network disconnection. Write an article about surviving air travel. Cancel noise. Then wrap around your face a neoprene eye mask that looks like a bra for a small monkey. It places no pressure upon your eyes and creates a pitch-black seal. You look insane — your white mask, your monkey bra, your noise-canceling headphones, but it doesn’t matter. You are satiated, filled with nourishing food; you have gotten your work done, and now you float in a personal outer space. An outer space that sounds like the summer in Wisconsin and feels just as humid within the nose and mouth thanks to your microclimate. You are on a plane but are not. You could be anywhere. You are untouchable. You are possibly the most insufferable traveler ever. You float and smile because you are the Dalai Lama.
This is how you survive air travel.
Let’s Fly | Medium