I AM WONDERING about my passengers on this flight that I am working from Brussels, Belgium, to Tel Aviv, Israel. Quite a few of these men are diamond dealers from Antwerp, Belgium.

I AM BARGAINING in the bazaar in Dakar, Senegal. I am caught up in the spirit of the marketplace, having found a small crocodile hand-carved from black wood, smooth and gleaming, heavy.

I AM IN TRAINING for Delta Air Lines in the Deep South.  I have never spent much time in this area of the country before and, coming from San Francisco.

I AM WALKING through the cabin of my 757 aircraft, urging passengers to stow their luggage and take their seats as quickly as possible.

I AM SELLING pink lemonade on the airplane. The proceeds will be donated to breast cancer research.

I AM WALKING through the cabin to give change to a man who has purchased a drink. “I owe you $15,” I say, handing him the money.

I AM SITTING by the window on the Braintree Logan Express, a bus service that runs nonstop from Braintree, Massachusetts to Boston Logan Airport.

I AM RUSHING to the point of entry for the polar plunge, a rite of passage of sorts onboard ships cruising Antarctica.

I AM GLANCING at the page of a menu in an Ethiopian restaurant in Cincinnati.

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