Hanoi, Viet Nam
Vietnam Airlines took us from Cam Ranh to Hanoi. We mounted a bus to get from the airport terminal to the aircraft. There were two stairways to board the plane with no instructions like zone numbers for an orderly boarding process. When the bus doors opened, the passengers ran for the entrance stairs like they were riding motor bikes. They maneuvered into every small space and jockeyed for position to board the aircraft. No one pushed and shoved but personal space apparently has little value in this culture. As I was stuffing my carry on bag into the overhead bin, a not so skinny woman, rather than waiting, squeezed through a six inch space to get by me. I thought the man who had the window seat in our row was going to either walk over our laps or dive across us before I abruptly stood up and motioned for him to back up so we could move into the aisle and let him into his seat. To my further dismay, my seat was in the last row next to the bathroom. As the jet taxied for take-off, two babies in the row in front of us began their crying about flying. When we reached cruising altitude, I thought the toilet must be clogged but I looked to the man across the aisle who had removed his shoes and determined the odor was instead, stinky feet. I removed my hearing aides to muffle the cries and donned a mask for the odiferous feet. Endurance is sometimes a necessary traveling trait.
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