Ah, long-haul flights. The glamour! The excitement! The unparalleled joy of sitting in the same spot for hours while questioning your life choices. Now, add a relentless, soul-shaking cough into the mix, and you’ve got yourself a travel experience so unforgettable you’ll wish you could forget it.
Welcome to my 24-hour flight odyssey: a tale of endurance, unwanted middle seats, and the sheer willpower it takes to survive when your body decides that now is the perfect time for a full-on respiratory rebellion.
Step 1: Accept That You’re About to Embark on a Personal Hell
My flight left at 8 PM, which, in theory, would have been a great time to fall asleep. However, I had gotten COVID from someone in my tour group a few weeks prior and was still cursed with a never-ending cough. The kind of cough that starts as an innocent tickle and quickly escalates into a dramatic, gut-wrenching spectacle that could easily win an award for “Most Disruptive Passenger.” I tried everything before the flight—pharmacy runs, herbal remedies, desperate prayers to the travel gods—but nothing worked.
To make matters worse, my originally assigned window seat (a respectable, manageable choice) was cruelly snatched away by fate and replaced with a middle seat in the middle of the plane. Because when life knocks you down, it likes to make sure you’re fully flattened.
Step 2: Prepare for the Worst-Case Scenario (Because It’s Coming)
If you think you’ve hit rock bottom, just wait. It gets worse.
At some point in the night, my coughing fits reached such an extreme level that I actually vomited into my mask. Yes. Into. My. Mask. I had officially hit a new personal low, and I wasn’t even halfway through my journey.
Yet, amidst my horror, my body did something miraculous: it had became accustomed to the long travel days sitting on a bus. Apparently, my muscle memory kicked in, and despite my constant hacking, I managed to actually sleep for a couple hours. Small victories.
Step 3: Take full advantage of the Small Mercy of a Singapore Layover
After what felt like an eternity, I stumbled off the first plane and into Singapore’s Changi Airport. First mission: pharmacy. I wasn’t about to let my cough destroy the second leg of my journey, so I threw money at anything that promised relief. And miracle of miracles, something finally worked. Was it the placebo effect? Was it actual medicine? Who cares? My cough settled, and for the first time in what felt like days, I could breathe without sounding like a Victorian orphan.
Step 4: Celebrate the Glory of a Window Seat
My second flight? Window seat. A blessed, beautiful, back-against-the-wall window seat. Compared to my previous torture chamber, this felt like a first-class upgrade.
With my cough subdued (for now), I even managed to squeeze in another hour or two of sleep. But as my body started to betray me once again, sending ominous cough signals, someone on the plane finally cracked. A fellow passenger, undoubtedly on their last shred of patience, complained to the flight attendant, who swooped in like an angel with a cup of water. Crisis averted—for now.
Step 5: Make It to Your Destination (Preferably in One Piece)
After 24 hours, one layover, multiple sleep-deprived hours, and a battle against my own respiratory system, I finally arrived at my destination. Did I feel refreshed? Absolutely not. Did I survive? Somehow, yes.
Final Thoughts: The Official Coughing Traveler’s Survival Guide
For anyone who finds themselves in a similarly cursed situation, here’s what I recommend:
✅ Pack a pharmacy in your carry-on. Anything that might work, bring it. Your fellow passengers will thank you.
✅ Hydrate like your life depends on it. Because it does.
✅ Window or aisle seats are your best friend. No middle seats. Ever. Fight for your life if you have to.
✅ Sleep when you can. If your body lets you, take advantage.
✅ If all else fails, own the chaos. Vomiting into a mask builds character (or so I tell myself).
Would I ever want to relive this experience? Absolutely not. But hey, at least I have a good story.