I AM RETURNING from a flight attendant interview with American Airlines in Dallas, Texas. I have blown it, and I know it.

I AM WAITING at the curb for my guide Erik to pick me up. I have booked a private tour with him to go to the Christmas market in Brussels.

I AM RIDING on a bus in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia. I am here for two months, flying charter flights during haj, the annual Muslim pilgrimage.

I AM WALKING through the museum in the 175-year-old Dohany Street synagogue, the largest synagogue in Europe. An amazing collection of antique artifacts has been amassed.

I AM HAVING my palm and astrological chart read in Varanasi, India. A Brahmin priest, a professor of astrology at the University of Benares, is doing the honors.

I AM SITTING on the jumpseat listening to a flight attendant friend talk about a recent visit to the doctor.

I AM EATING lunch at a small table in the back of a tiny little restaurant located in an alley off the massive lively square, the Jemaa el-Fnaa, in Marrakesh, Morocco.

I AM HANDING my passport to the official seated in a cubicle behind a glass window in the airport in Paramaribo, Suriname. He dismissively flips through the pages then tells me I need to fill out an online customs form.

I AM WAITING onboard an almost-empty airplane. We were loaded up, ready to go, passengers seated, carry-on luggage stowed, safety demo complete, when something happened.

I AM STANDING in the galley of a Japan Airlines 787 after the dinner service on this late-night flight bound for Osaka, Japan. Four flight attendants are gathered around me and we are talking flight attendant talk, the usual questions and answers.