I AM PANICKING because I have a mosquito bite on the side of my face. I am on vacation in Nepal, heading to India the next day. I chose not to take malaria tablets because the risk is relatively low in the places I am going.

I AM LISTENING intently to a passenger standing in the front galley of my airplane. The service is over, the trash picked up. Passengers are watching movies, listening to music, reading, sleeping, or trying to sleep.

I AM SMOKING a cigar in Pinar del Rio, Cuba, a Montecristo, the cigar of choice of Che Guevara, the revolutionary.

I AM READING the guestbook in F Street Station, a bar in Anchorage, Alaska. It is early January, bitter cold outside, and crewmembers from my airline are the only patrons.

I AM TALKING to a couple in the back galley.  She has a seat in coach and he is sitting in first class, but he has walked back to the aft galley to talk to her. They know each other, are together in some way.

I HAVE SCHEDULED a massage in Seoul, Korea. This is my first time here, and the flight attendants have told me about the fabulous, inexpensive massages at the spa in this 5-star hotel.

I AM CHEERING for my favorite sumo rikishi (wrestler) from my seat in the arena in Osaka, Japan. Endo is his name and he is considered very attractive by Japanese standards.

I AM TRAVELING from Seoul, Korea to Vientiane, Laos, the start of a vacation that will take me from the Plain of Jars in Laos to the temples of Angkor Wat in Cambodia to the tunnels of Cu Chi in Vietnam.

I AM HANDING a passenger a bottle of water. She popped into my galley to ask for one and I notice the guy sleeping soundly in the seat next to her.

I AM GIGGLING in the back galley with my flight attendant friends. It is early evening, the service complete, the cabin quiet. There are several hours left in the flight. We are bored.