Frequent Flier: Really Affordable Health Care, and It Came With a Doorman, Too

ABOUT 20 years ago, I was working as a marketing executive. I was young and had never been on a business trip so I was really excited when my employer sent me to Brussels. I still remember eating really good cheese and drinking really good beer while I was there. I thought that traveling for business was incredible.

Q. How often do you travel for business?

A. About two weeks a month, predominantly to China, Latin America, Europe and the Middle East.

Q. What’s your least favorite airport?

A. Actually, I don’t like any of them. But if I have to pick, I guess I like Charles de Gaulle the least. As an airport, it’s completely useless. The architecture is just so ugly it’s almost compelling.

Q. Of all the places you’ve been, what’s the best?

A. It’s impossible to pick one place, since unlike airports, I actually do like a lot of different places. I spent some time in Gloucestershire, England, and it was absolutely spectacular.

Q. What’s your secret airport vice?

A. I eat too much, specifically Nathan’s hot dogs, pretzel-fried things and bacon rolls. I can’t stop myself.

I still like seeing new places and meeting new people, but I sure don’t get excited about flying anymore, and I travel about 150 days out of the year. It’s O.K. once I’m in the plane, but like most other travelers, I’m not that good with long lines at security or delays. I’m a brand manager for the St. Regis, W Hotels and the Luxury Collection. I can do some things through e-mail, conference calls and even videoconferencing. But there is still a lot that requires those face-to-face meetings. I went to London last year and stayed for maybe half a day. I was meeting with some team members and we got more done in an afternoon by actually being together and talking than relying on technology.

I travel to Asia quite a bit and some cultural things take some getting used to. If there are 20 people invited to a dinner, a host will often toast all 20 people, with individual shots. I’ve taken to spitting some of the liquor in a water glass, which is a lot harder than you think when you’re surrounded by people you don’t want to offend. I have not recognized a lot of the food I’ve eaten in Asia, but I have to say most of it was really good.

One of the worst experiences anyone can have while traveling is getting sick. I know, because during my first trip to Bangkok for the St. Regis brand back in 2010 I did. Apparently, I was bitten by a bug and when I got up in the morning my eye was swollen shut.

Actually, I looked as if I went several rounds with Mike Tyson. My eye was huge. I had to go inspect a hotel construction site, so I put on a pair of sunglasses and hoped for the best. The hotel was only half-done, and lit with construction lights, so I looked kind of ridiculous walking around in the dark with these wraparound shades on my face. I did show my colleagues my eye and their reactions were priceless. I thought they were going to pass out.

I realized I needed to get to a hospital, but I was a little scared about what kind of medical care I would encounter. The concierge recommended a hospital, so that’s where I went. At the hospital, I was greeted by a doorman. I’m used to this at hotels, but not at hospitals. The doorman blew a whistle, which alerted an English-speaking nurse to escort me to the waiting room. Within a few minutes I met with a doctor who recommended some medicine to reduce the swelling. I was even escorted to the pharmacy. The whole thing cost only $19 at the time. I was shocked. Not only was the cost astonishingly low for a hospital bill, but it also included all the delights of a five-star hotel, which comes with a higher price tag. What was once the most miserable part of my travels surprisingly became one of the most pleasant, swollen eye and all.

By Paul James, as told to Joan Raymond. E-mail: joan.raymond@nytimes.com

Frequent Flier: Flying the Surly Skies, Stay Positive

I GIVE about 100 lectures a year, which translates to about 300 flights. I try to stay positive about everything, which shouldn’t be a surprise considering I’m a researcher, author and educator in the field of positive psychology.

Shawn Achor, chief of Good Think Inc., a psychology consulting firm, on the Italian Riviera.

Q. How often do you fly for business?

A. Two to three times a week, both domestic and international.

Q. What is your least favorite airport?

A. This is tough because I try to think of positive things about each one. But I suppose I’m not a big fan of O’Hare, since it’s tough to navigate.

Q. Of all the places you have been, what is the best?

A. South Africa because of the incredible people, many of whom had nothing, but still managed to create deep relationships with each other.

Q. What is your secret airport vice?

A. Multiple protein bars. I eat these things like crazy at the airport. I don’t lift weights while traveling, but I justify the protein bars because I lift my carry-on.

I do have some things that work that make travel less tedious. I bring a Kindle instead of a book, and that means I gain about 30 minutes each flight during takeoff and landing when I can’t use electronics. I realized I was gaining time to do other things. Now I meditate, go through some Spanish flash cards, write a quick thank-you note to someone I met during my previous business trip and then pick up the airline magazine and learn one new fact about the world. I have a blast.

When you’re traveling for business, it can be hard to remember things that happened on a trip, especially if you travel alone. Researchers found that taking just two minutes to jot down notes in a travel journal about things that you did and how you felt doing those things can make the experience more meaningful to you. I know business travel can be tough, but many of us get to see new things and new places. It’s worth making the effort to try to remember those experiences that we enjoyed.

One time I was delayed at O’Hare for a while. I wound up being thrilled that my flight wasn’t canceled when many others were. When I play badly at tennis, I get frustrated. When I play great, I assume that’s my normal. When my plane is on time, I assume that’s normal. But in the normal world, travel delays happen all the time. As the comedian Louis C.K. points out, we need to keep things in perspective. He says we forget how good we have it, even in our frustrating times.

I worked with a group of critical care nurses in Boston who had a great idea. They make an “In Case of Emergency” folder. They print out pictures of family and friends, as well as great e-mails or notes that made them smile. They put all of this stuff in a folder. Then, when they were having a particularly tough day at work, they would open their folders and be reminded of all of the good things in life. I think it would be a great idea to make a folder like this, or even scan stuff onto a laptop, and then when a flight gets canceled or you’re sitting next to someone who does nothing but complain, you could find a little solace.

Some of my colleagues do give me a hard time sometimes when flights are really late or canceled. I’ll get a comment from them like, “So how are you doing now, Mr. Happy?” All I can say is that I try to find the positive. That’s important because our brains pick up on negativity easily. One of the things we like to do when traveling is a little experiment with “mirror neurons.” These brain neurons show activation when you see someone yawning, for example, raising the likelihood of you doing the same behavior.

Sometimes my colleagues and I will mess with people at the gate and start tapping our feet or looking at our watches, as if we’re anxious to get on board. Within about two minutes, several other people will start to mimic the same behavior. I never do this experiment at my gate, though. I don’t want to be on the plane with a bunch of anxious people. On the other hand, if you smile and act relaxed, people are going to pick up on those behaviors and possibly even create a ripple effect of, well, happiness.

By Shawn Achor, as told to Joan Raymond. E-mail: joan.raymond@nytimes.com

Frequent Flier: A World Traveler Is Harmless, Yet Suspect

As worldwide creative director for the Brand Union, I travel to pitch new clients, make sure all our offices are running smoothly, and meet with existing clients. Work doesn’t stop because I’m on a plane, so I’m not the guy who has a lot of time to chat. I may be missing out on meeting some interesting people, but I want to avoid the nightmare scene of someone talking to me about their children, their pets or their work during an eight-hour flight.

Early in my career I would talk to seatmates, but I’ve learned the hard way that once you start talking, there’s often no good way to stop. The most anyone will get out of me now is a polite nod, which is plenty.

I’m very disciplined about travel. That’s the only way I can get through it. Once I’m done working on international flights, I’ll have a glass of red wine and take some melatonin. I’m out like a light and it’s nothing but sweet dreams for me until we land.

Part of my low-key approach to business travel is the fact that I have been stopped and searched so many times.

Without a doubt, my profile is a mixed bag and must set off all kinds of alarms.

First, I was born in Zambia to Welsh parents. Most people have no idea where Zambia is, including passport officials. Second, I travel on a British passport with a Welsh name, Dyfed Wynn Richards. I live in the United States and have a green card.

Anyone looking through my passport stamps and the frequency of my international travel probably assumes something is up. I can’t blame them. If I was in charge of passport control, I would stop someone with my profile, too.

One of the strangest experiences I have ever had was back when I was a young, broke designer. I was living in London at the time and dating a young woman who lived in France. Back then, the ferry between Dover and Calais was the cheapest option.

I made the trip several times with no problem, but finally customs and immigration officials stopped me when I was returning to Dover.

I was asked to step into a room and I was grilled by three big guys and our conversation was being taped. It was awful. Plus they asked me to remove my clothes and they even took a urine sample. I’m a big guy myself and don’t scare that easy, but I was petrified.

I was let go because I didn’t do anything wrong and when I got home I did tell my father about the situation. He contacted our local parliament member, and we did receive a document detailing the interview. Apparently, the officials thought I was very defensive because of my body language and gestures. They also put in the report that I cried. I remember my dad saying, “Really, you cried?”

Last year I was stopped in Singapore for about six hours. I flew in from Bangkok. Everyone was extremely polite, but I had my baggage searched.

Nothing was out of the ordinary, but I do think the sheer number of stamps on my passport, my real name, and my residency status probably prompted the search.

I take it in stride. Who knows? Maybe they thought I was a bald James Bond. And for the record, I didn’t cry.

By Fred Richards, as told to Joan Raymond. E-mail: joan.raymond

@nytimes.com

Frequent Flier: Travel Is Great, but There’s No Place Like Home

That’s why I can’t complain about business travel, although it’s not as exciting as when I was younger and working as a corporate lawyer. Back then, I thought business travel was glamorous. Now, I’d much rather be at home with my family.

But I still do feel a lot of pleasure when I see new places and meet new people. Plus, I still like getting out of the office. For a few hours, I’m not an executive coach, a wife or a mother. I’m just a traveler.

I’m the queen of last minute, especially when I’m traveling alone for business. I like getting to the airport with minimal time between check-in and takeoff. Once I’m through security, I stop at bookstores to load up on water, pick up the tabloids and see if there are any interesting new books. Then I’ll stop and get something to eat.

My routine usually works. I missed a flight only once, and it was ridiculous. I was coming back to New York City from a meeting in London. We had just moved back to New York from London, and I was really looking forward to seeing my family.

To take advantage of those all-business-class flights between New York and London, I was flying out of Gatwick. I was just a few minutes out from the airport when I realized I had left my passport in the hotel safe. My driver couldn’t turn back because there wasn’t enough time, but the hotel did send another driver with my passport.

I begged the airline to hold the flight for a few minutes until the driver arrived. Of course, that didn’t happen, although the representatives were quite nice about it. The driver showed up with my passport about five minutes after my flight took off. He took me back to the hotel, and I left the next day. I was upset about not being able to see my children for another day. But, to be honest, I don’t think they noticed.

Most of my flights are routine, but as we’re coming up on the 12th anniversary of Sept. 11, 2001, I’ll always remember the trip I was supposed to take that day.

I was originally scheduled to return to London on Sept. 11. I was living in London at the time, and was attending a conference in Uruguay, so I was supposed to fly out of Montevideo, and then go to Argentina, and from there to New York City and then London. But by the sixth day at this conference, I just wanted to get back to London, so I rebooked the exact itinerary for one day earlier, Sept. 10.

The afternoon of Sept. 11, I was at my desk in London at the technology start-up where I was working as legal counsel. That’s when I heard about the attack.

I was stunned and felt very alone. I kept thinking I could have been in New York. And to be honest, I really wanted to be there. I wanted to be back on American soil. I wanted to support my city.

I know it might sound a little emotional, but since then, every time I fly back to New York from an overseas trip and an airport person greets me with “Welcome home,” I get a little choked up.

I think it’s important to remember that coming home really can be the most wonderful thing in the world.

By Karen Elizaga, as told to Joan Raymond. E-mail: joan.raymond@nytimes.com

Frequent Flier: Jeffrey Beers, on Being Stranded in Guadalajara

My flights are routine and most of my trips have been enjoyable. Others, not so much.

I was headed to Mexico City, but my plane got diverted to Guadalajara. Apparently there was a huge storm in Mexico City and a plane skidded off the runway, closing down the airport. I had an 8 a.m. client meeting the next morning, and I wasn’t that concerned since the pilot said we’d be in Guadalajara for only about an hour. It was only 8 p.m.

I was on a good-size plane, filled with passengers. Ninety minutes went by and we were still sitting, and since we were an international flight they wouldn’t let us off the plane. By 2 a.m., six hours later, we ate and drank everything on that plane, which, by this time, was getting unbearably hot. The crew shut the engines down and opened the doors by the cockpit.

That seemed like a smart move until the plane was swarmed by about 3,000 mosquitoes. It was like we were a mosquito magnet. People were jumping up and down, swatting the insects and each other. Everybody was freaking out and itchy.

About 4:30 in the morning we got the news that we could get off the plane and would be taken to a hotel. We had to go through this crazy immigration process. Unfortunately, the hotel rooms were filled from all the passengers from all of the other diverted planes. We took a two-hour ride outside of the city where I slept on a cot in what seemed like an army barracks.

I wound up spending 38 hours in Guadalajara, and I was supposed to be home already. My client understood why I missed the meeting, but I’m not sure my family would. It was the day before Thanksgiving. I went into frequent-flier mode and found a flight that took me to Madrid and then back to New York City. I made it home just in time to eat turkey, stuffing and mashed potatoes with my family on Thanksgiving Day. Nothing ever tasted so good.

I’ve learned a lot about different cultures from my travels, but sometimes I’ve learned the hard way.

My first trip to Singapore for business was 1980 and the city-state had some very strict laws. They still do, but 30 years ago I believe they may have been even stricter. When I got off the plane and walked down the ramp, I saw a sign that had a guy’s picture on it with a red line at the bottom of his earlobe. I didn’t know what to think, but I was in my 20s, it was the ’80s, and my hair was long.

When we got to the end of the Jetway, passengers were instructed to go to the right. I, however, was instructed to go to the left. I was put into a room and an official gave me a haircut. Obviously, if I didn’t accept the haircut I wasn’t going to be able to go through immigration and get into Singapore. I got the haircut, which looked like someone put a bowl on my head and just cut away. That was O.K., and actually a far better alternative than calling my boss and telling him I couldn’t go to a client meeting because I wouldn’t cut my hair.

By Jeffrey Beers, as told to Joan Raymond. E-mail: joan.raymond@nytimes.com.

Frequent Flier: Out of the Country, and Feeling Out of Touch

When I was practicing medicine, I used to give lectures all over the world. Now, most of my travel is focused on developing medical education programs and attending scientific congresses, as well as researching books that I write.

I’m kind of a control freak. That’s not good, especially when traveling for business, when everything that can go wrong often really does.

I was in Bali, Indonesia, and my trip was going very well until about the third day, when my laptop computer broke down. I needed it for work, and like everyone who has experienced a broken computer, I felt out of control and out of touch. That’s not a good feeling for me.

My first instincts were to just dump the computer, ship it home to Oregon for repair or buy a new computer somewhere in Indonesia. Each of those ideas had its own drawbacks, so I finally decided to try to get the thing fixed in Bali. At the time, Bali had a good electronic infrastructure for commerce, but not everyone was as plugged in as we are in the United States. I still figured there must be a few computer repair technicians available somewhere in Bali who could help me out.

The hotel front desk directed my driver to a computer dealer. We drove out of the hotel district, and cruised through neighborhoods crammed with shops for baskets, teak furniture and kites. When we passed some beautifully manicured rice fields, I really thought I had made a poor decision, since we were in rural Indonesia. We finally got to the computer store, and a woman there directed us to the computer repair part of the establishment, which was in a shed packed with pool tables. It looked to me like the most out-of-control high-tech service center anywhere in the world. It was like a computer graveyard, with parts strewn all over the place. To say I was a little concerned is an understatement.

No one seemed to speak English, but an older man finally pointed to a teenage boy who apparently could help me. The young man quickly said my computer wasn’t booting up, which didn’t give me much confidence, since I already knew that. But I asked him if he thought he could fix it. He smiled and took my laptop.

Instead of using that magic electronic tester that I saw computer repair people use at my shop back home, this young man began tapping on my computer’s plastic shell with his fingers. It reminded me of how I used to check the backs of my older patients for pneumonia. He then put his ear down on the computer’s surface, which made my blood pressure rise even more. I could not figure out what this young man was doing since he was doing absolutely nothing high tech. It was really more like he was performing a deep Balinese massage on my computer. I nearly lost my mind when he started to take it apart. Screws were all over the place, and he was jiggling wires and jamming connections together. I thought everything on my computer was lost.

But then he put the cover back, flipped the switch, and everything was fixed. Best of all, nothing was lost. I would have paid him anything, but he only asked for 20,000 rupiah, which is about $3.18 in American dollars. I gave him much more.

The computer worked like a charm for years after his repair. But even more important is that I learned that sometimes you simply can’t control everything. Sometimes you have to trust the most unlikely of people. It’s a good lesson to learn, especially when you are on the road.

By Gideon Bosker, as told to Joan Raymond. E-mail: joan.raymond@nytimes.com

Frequent Flier: The Drama of Travel, Made Into Television

Elise Doganieri is a creator of "The Amazing Race." She rode a yak in Lijiang, China.

MY very first international trip was on TWA back in 1990. I went to Madrid and went backpacking with my college roommate for about five weeks. I went with $1,000, and we lived on wine, cheese, bread and chocolate. That trip changed my life.

Q. How often do you fly for business?

A. I used to fly all the time, probably about six months out of the year. Now, it’s about twice a month. When we’re filming I can fly every other day and go to nine or 10 countries in three weeks.

Q. What’s your least favorite airport?

A. Heathrow. If you’re switching planes, it can take forever to get to your gate.

Q. Of all the places you’ve been, what’s the best?

A. I love Asia, especially Hong Kong, Beijing and Shanghai. Asia is just very culturally rich, and anyplace I go on the continent is fascinating.

Q. What’s your secret airport vice?

A. I catch up on movies. I think my record is four movies during one flight.

I met my husband, Bertram van Munster, about five years later, and we both loved travel. I remember talking about how travel always has a lot of drama and how you can build relationships. I still keep in touch with people I met on my first trip abroad. So long story short, “The Amazing Race” was born somewhat from our own real love of going places.

I do talk to seatmates on occasion during my trips for the show, but I don’t really tell them exactly what I do. All I will say is that I work in television and I’m traveling for business. Even that takes a while for me to admit. First, I’m very private and where we travel for the show is a secret until it airs. Even my parents have to sign a nondisclosure agreement.

Traveling for the show is a lot of fun. It’s also a lot of work since the logistics are crazy.

But I’m privileged in that my business trips are really out of the norm. My husband and I have a lot of maps of the world in the office, and we try to pick places to film that may not be travel destinations for most Americans.

I’ve had some amazing experiences.

I remember flying from Adelaide to Coober Pedy, Australia, which is the opal capital of the world. I was on this tiny Cessna with four other passengers and one pilot. I decided to take flying lessons when I got home because I couldn’t help thinking what would happen if this one pilot passed out. Fortunately, he didn’t and we wound up filming for one week in underground homes called dugouts, which really are a lot nicer than the name implies.

I was in Botswana in a plane called a Caravan. We were flying over the Okavango Delta while herds of elephants ran throughout the bush. It was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. Flying into Reykjavik, Iceland, was like landing on the moon. Even though it’s only five hours from J.F.K., it’s like no other place on earth.

We took off at night and arrived in the morning to the most beautiful sunrise I’ve ever seen. I’ve also flown apparently to the end of the world when I flew to Punta Arenas, Chile and then onto Ushuaia, Argentina, where I had my passport stamped “The End of the World” on Isla Redonda Tierra del Fuego. That was very cool.

Aside from finding places that are not usual destinations for many Americans, we try to keep things local or culturally significant regarding the challenges that our contestant teams have to perform.

People really seem to enjoy sky diving and bungee-jumping. I went bungee-jumping for the first time in New Zealand during season two. It’s called the Nevis Bungee Jump and you drop about 440 feet. I must have stood on the ledge over the gorge for about five minutes. I knew if I didn’t do it I would regret it. So I did it. I couldn’t even catch my breath to scream. I was out of my mind, but I would do it again.

Sky diving is another story. I told myself I would do it once, and now it’s off my to do list, but more power to our teams and every other person out there who thinks that it’s fun. Jumping out of a perfectly good plane makes absolutely no sense to me.

By Elise Doganieri, as told to Joan Raymond. E-mail: joan.raymond@nytimes.com.

Frequent Flier: Nervous Flier? He’ll Hold Your Hand

I have clients in 53 countries and in every state in the United States. I think it’s very important to get out and see these clients so I can talk to them as well as observe exactly how they use our products and services.

Whether I enjoy flying, though, is up for debate. I like mechanical things, and there’s nothing really more graceful than an airplane. But since I now have children, I always hope the plane takes off and lands safely. Those are things I never used to think about.

I’m always amazed when I’m waiting at the airport or am on the plane how often I sit next to someone who works for a company that’s my client. Because I’m in the expense management business, I may not be the most popular guy with these people. I think they believe I’m the “expense report police” and if I see them ordering an extra big burger I’m going to call their company and report them. That’s not what we do.

One time I was off to see a client and I was reading a book about corporate fraud and expense management. The book contained a lot of detailed information about how employees managed to con their employers out of money. It was a great read and some of the schemes were absolutely ingenious, at least until the employee got caught.

My seatmate was peering over quite a bit and looking at me and at the book. About halfway through the flight, he said hello and I introduced myself and told him what I did for a living. This gentleman let out a huge sigh of relief and told me he was worried that he was sitting next to a crook.

I’ve learned that no good deed goes unpunished.

On a flight from Los Angeles to New York, I was seated next to a really nervous woman. She was very open about her fear and told me that she might grab my hand if she got really scared, especially during takeoff or landing. I said that would be fine.

The flight was uneventful until we started our descent into La Guardia. Her anxiety really started to build and I decided I would talk to her and tell her exactly what was going to happen as we started our descent.

I went into this explanation as to why the back of the wing looked like it was going to fall off as we got closer to landing and what to expect with landing gear noise. I even told her why things were so noisy.

As we touched down on the runway I said, “O.K., now the engine doors are going to open and the engines are going to really roar.”

Well, the engines roared, but no reverse thrust doors on the engines opened. The pilot aborted the landing and took off at an angle that would have given the space shuttle a run for its money. It was like the nose of the plane was pointed directly at the sky. It was unbelievable.

I glanced at my seatmate and the look on her face was one that I will never forget. She was more petrified than ever, but she also looked at me like I had lied to her about what was happening. I think she thought I set her up.

Since then I have never talked to anyone during takeoff or landing. It’s a rule. But maybe I would still hold someone’s hand if that person was really nervous.

By John Tangredi, as told to Joan Raymond. E-mail: joan.raymond@nytimes.com.

Frequent Flier: M.J. Day Shepherds Swimsuit Models Around World

I NEVER stepped foot on a plane until I was a freshman in college. But once I took a trip to Chicago on a plane, I never wanted to stop flying. I’ve worked on the last 14 issues of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue, and I’ve been very fortunate to see most of the world. I generally fly in business class, but occasionally coach. In my life outside of work, I seem to always fly coach. Nothing much bothers me, and that’s really helpful because flying with a crew and models can be an adventure.

Q. How often do you travel for business?

A. On average, four times a month, domestic and international, but mostly international.

Q. What’s your least favorite airport?

A. Miami International. Plow it over and start new. It’s difficult to navigate, flights are always messed up, and it just has bad juju.

Q. Of all the places you’ve been, what’s the best?

A. I often say home because I’m never there. But now, after recently seeing Antarctica, I have to say that’s my favorite place. I would go there every year for the rest of my life and stay for a month if I could.

Q. What’s your secret airport vice?

A. Manicures, pedicures and shopping for sunglasses. I can’t tell you how many sunglasses I own. I can’t tell you how many I’ve lost, either.

I swear when we go out on shoots, we look like a traveling band of Gypsies. There’s me, my assistant, hair stylists, a model or two, our photographer, two photo assistants and sometimes our own TV crew. It can be up to 12 or 15 people, and part of my job is to herd everyone and make sure we get where we’re going, which can include one location per trip, or sometimes two.

This year, we shot on all seven continents, and it was crazy. Obviously, we don’t just take carry-ons. We have a lot of luggage. I have the cell numbers of all of the skycaps at Kennedy Airport and La Guardia, and I’ll call ahead and they meet us outside. I can’t tell you the number of times people in airports have asked if we were in a band or something. It’s kind of funny.

But what’s really amusing is watching reactions to the models. One of my favorite airport pastimes is people-watching, and watching people watch the models walk through the airport is hysterical. The models are obviously tall and gorgeous, in a preternaturally perfect kind of way. People try to be cool and not stare at them, but they can’t help themselves. Men stare. Women stare. Children stare. Even babies stare.

If I have a problem traveling, it’s usually at customs. Even in English-speaking countries, it’s sometimes very difficult to convince an agent that we don’t plan on selling the hundreds of bathing suits and matching accessories we’re bringing in. If it’s tough in an English-speaking country, it’s even tougher if there is a language barrier. It’s not that people want a bribe or just want to be difficult, it’s just that agents have a hard time fathoming why we need all this stuff.

The longest trip I’ve taken was to a shoot in the Philippines. I took three flights, two car rides, two buses and a boat to the location. It took a total of 36 hours, door to door. With all of the luggage and crew, it was insane. I wanted to die by the time we got there. The crew and I were dragging. The models looked just fine, which doesn’t seem fair.

The scariest trip I’ve ever taken was on a helicopter. I had never been on one until about two years ago. We were shooting on the San Blas Islands of Panama and a helicopter was the only way to get there. I was in the helicopter with a model and we were talking a lot, and the pilot actually changed channels to get away from our chatter. All of a sudden, we started banking and the helicopter doors flew open. The model and I were screaming like crazy. The pilot turned around, and his eyes were bugging out because of our screams.

Of course, I found out that helicopters are made to fly with their doors open and we were never in any danger. I had to take about 25 helicopter rides on that particular shoot, and fortunately I didn’t scream on any except that one. I think the pilots were very happy about that.

By M. J. Day, as told to Joan Raymond. E-mail: joan.raymond@nytimes.com.

Frequent Flier: An Environmentalist Weighs the Fallout of Flying

M. Sanjayan.

I FLY a lot. And honestly, flying now is a means to an end, although I used to enjoy it. It’s not that I hate it or am paranoid. It’s just that it’s a chore.

Q. How often do you fly for business?

A. Once or twice a week, mostly domestic, but also international about once a month.

Q. What’s your least favorite airport?

A. I hate to say it and know I will get criticized, but it’s Denver International. It should be a great airport, but it isn’t. There are no amenities, no decent meals, no nothing.

Q. Of all the places you’ve been, what’s the best?

A. East Africa. It’s where humans evolved, and it always feels like a homecoming to me. The temperature, the way it looks, the gestalt rekindles a cellular memory that when I’m there I’m in my ancestral home. I think it’s where humans really belong.

Q. What’s your secret airport vice?

A. I catch up on TV shows that I can’t watch at any other time. I’ve watched entire seasons of “Breaking Bad,” “Homeland” and “Downton Abbey” all in one trip.

As the lead scientist for the Nature Conservancy, I am fully aware of the ramifications of flying and its effect on the environment, but sometimes I have to do it. I do always ask myself the question: When I get to my destination, what can I deliver? In other words, is it really important for me to be someplace?

If not, I’m not going to go. I don’t go to meetings, conferences or events unless if I have a very specific role. And then, of course, there’s a personal toll. Flying can be tough on the body and spirit, even if you take good care of yourself.

I love seeing kids take their first flight. It can be so cool to fly as a kid, even today with all the hassle and limited service.

The first time I got to fly was as a 5-year-old on a KLM DC-8 from Colombo in Sri Lanka to Amsterdam. It was a huge thrill. My dad gave me the window seat and I stayed awake for as long as I could, following our path over darkened Asia and then Europe.

As I remember it, the food was fantastic. It was served in a tray that was partitioned into little quadrants. We ate with forks and knives, not with our hands as we did at home in Sri Lanka. Cheese was wrapped in foil, chocolate came in a Delft blue wrapper with a windmill stamped on it, and the juice wasn’t straight from an orange but a box. It was such a big deal to eat like a Westerner.

Since I often travel to remote locations, I rarely carry luggage. I want everything I need close at hand and I hate having to wait and guess whether my luggage will make it. If I really need something I don’t have, I can usually buy it locally. Occasionally, I don’t have a choice because a trip may be too long or too complicated for me to avoid taking my own gear. One time, I was particularly thankful that I put a red jersey in my carry-on.

A few years ago in Alaska, I was stranded with a Discovery Channel crew. We were on a sandy island on the Tana River in the gigantic Wrangell-St. Elias wilderness. The river was running ragged with heavy glacial melt and our rafts were no match for the white water.

We were drenched and miserable. To perhaps catch a passing plane’s attention, I actually wrote a message out on the sand beach with a big stick, just like you see in the movies. When I did see a plane coming, I whirled my red jersey over my head to catch the eye of the bush pilot.

The plane came in very low, the pilot read the message in the sand about our need for help, and then he tossed out a radio and a note, wrapped in his rain jacket. It was amazing. We used the radio to talk to him, and then we arranged a pickup.

The funny thing was that when I was writing out the message in the sand, which gave our GPS coordinates and pickup date, everyone who was with me had advice about what I should say, how big the letters should be, how to make it visible and so on. I mean, really?

Flagging down flying aircraft while you’re on an island is not as common as hailing a cab in rush hour. But everyone had an opinion.

As a scientist, I have to replicate experiments. This is one I don’t really want to repeat ever again.

By M. Sanjayan, as told to Joan Raymond. E-mail: joan.raymond@nytimes.com

Frequent Flier: Training the Dirty Harry Stare on an Unruly Flight Mate

After that, I knew I wanted to see the world. But I never thought I would be a member of the million-mile club. There was a time early in my career, and I’ve been with the Gerber Group for about 20 years, where I was one of those passengers who would listen for every noise and hang on to my armrests, and hated turbulence because I figured the plane was going to drop out of the sky or something.

Now, that kind of stuff doesn’t even bother me, but I still really don’t like heights.

Being in the food and beverage hospitality business, I can’t help noticing how companies treat people. It’s no secret that air travel has lost its luster. There’s a lot less of “thanks for flying with us,” and too much of “aren’t you lucky to fly with us.”

I have hope, though. On some recent flights, I’ve seen changes like seats being taken out so there’s more legroom, updated onboard entertainment, even a gratis snack. So maybe things are changing and who knows? Maybe on my next flight I’ll get a cookie.

But no matter how dismal things are, there’s no excuse for rude behavior. It’s amazing to me how crazy people can get.

I was flying from Los Angeles to Chicago, and the plane was absolutely packed. A man came on at the last minute. His seat was right behind mine. When he approached my row, he looked like he was going to blow a gasket. He got to his row and opened a bin and saw there was no room. He opened another, and that apparently was filled, too. Of course, he opened one more. Same thing. At this point, his skin tone turned what I would call a lovely shade of fuchsia.

Instead of asking for assistance, he decided to curse at what was now his in-flight audience and began throwing out bags from one of the bins. He threw one bag so hard it went about 10 rows up the aisle.

A crew member tried to help, but he wouldn’t have anything to do with her. He placed his bag in the now-open bin, slammed it shut and sat in his seat, still cursing and now looking like a beet. The crew member picked up the bags in the immediate area and found room for them. When I poked my head into the aisle to see what happened to the bag thrown up the aisle, I saw it was still there. It was mine.

So I stood up, got my bag, brought it back to the row, opened up the bin that had his bag in it and placed mine right next to his. There was room.

It was kind of funny because he kept looking at me like I was going to do something to him. I am so not that guy. But I kept looking back at him with my best Dirty Harry stare, which apparently worked. He stopped cursing and talking to himself and kept quiet the rest of the flight. That was great because it was Christmas Eve and no one wanted to deal with Scrooge.

By Oliver Kroll, as told to Joan Raymond. E-mail: joan.raymond@nytimes.com.