After a lengthy negotiation with OneTravel, we were still required to fly to China separately: my husband, our son, and I had a flight at 6:15 am, while my mother-in-law’s flight was at 6:15 pm. She kindly sent us to the airport. I had barely slept and felt guilty for waking up my three-and-a-half-year-old son at 3:00 am.

Despite the early hour, the airport was bustling with people. We flew from Minneapolis to Chicago and then from Chicago to Los Angeles, where we had a 12-hour layover. My original plan was to explore Los Angeles, find an authentic Chinese restaurant, go shopping, or watch a movie. However, as we struggled to navigate through the crowd with our bulky luggage, our enthusiasm for visiting the city waned, and we decided to stay at the airport for the entire 12 hours.

We entered a restaurant and had lunch there. My poor baby was exhausted and soon fell asleep. We arranged two chairs to create a makeshift bed for him, using my husband’s folded T-shirt as a pillow. After lunch, I approached the waitress to inquire about our stay duration, and she informed us we could stay for one more hour. Timidly, my husband Tyler ordered ice cream to prolong our time in the restaurant.

Eventually, I carried our son to a waiting chair, which was not long enough and had immovable armrests. I had to hold him until he woke up. We bought him some toys to keep him occupied and alleviate the boredom. Tyler dozed off here and there, while I yearned for some sleep myself. My eyes were dry and sore, but my mind was too alert to drift off.

Finally, the airplane took off, and we found ourselves soaring over the Pacific Ocean. I forced myself to sleep for a few broken hours. I had no inclination to watch shows or play games; instead, I fixated on the flight map, anxiously counting down the hours: nine hours left, seven hours left, six hours left… Time seemed to crawl on the flight from Los Angeles to Guangzhou.