WHEN PEOPLE DREAM OF FLYING
it's not usually at the airport.

But this morning I jerked awake from a reverie in which I had gotten to the airport just a little late, to find LONG lines at check-in and security.  "But my plane leaves in 45 minutes," I said to someone, who took me to a more open place where I leap-frogged a couple of people, feeling pushy, to get to the check-in desk.  At which point I realized:  "I have no visa!"  At least in the dream I was wearing clothes.

Acquiring my visa to China is the task I must deal with this week. My reliable and helpful Chinese travel agent will expedite for me, because, oddly, Hawaii, despite its large Chinese population and its aspirations as a tourist destination for Mainland Chinese, has no Chinese consulate.  You can visit the ambassadorial reps from Japan, Korea, Taiwan,  the Philippines, Hungary, Peru and Kiribati, but not the great economic superpower to the west.  All visas must go through the embassy in Los Angeles, which means FedExing documents and waiting until the last minute for their properly red-stamped return.

At least I'm ahead of the game, better than a few years ago when I was about to leave for a Hong Kong visit when I noticed that my passport was about to expire WHILE I was to be in Hong Kong.  I think that may have been the Year of the Handover, so it probably would have turned into major humbug.

I've learned to plan better now.