Memorable plane rides for me tend to be exclusively in the negative. Like that oaf of a steward who dumped a bucket of ice on my lap over the Gobi desert on the

Memorable plane rides for me tend to be exclusively in the negative. Like that oaf of a steward who dumped a bucket of ice on my lap over the Gobi desert on the way to Japan, or the 12-hour intercontinental flight to London where my seat's entertainment screen was broken and no other seat was available¹. And of course the abject misery of every single flight due to being 200cm tall. Give me a train any day. Plenty of leg space, plenty of room to stretch your legs, better scenery, low noise (!), and no turbulence. Reading a book is not just possible, it is positively comfortable to do so. 1: They did compensate me by offering a bottle of champagne from the first class upon disembarking, only to discover that they couldn't give me that, because I was transferring to another flight, so customs wouldn't have it, so uhm, sorry (they were British). I did get a free meal out of it on Heathrow via a coupon, which is about as much fun as it sounds.