Alaska Airlines from Eppley Airfield to Ketchikan International Airport

Brace yourself, intrepid traveler, for the extraordinary journey of flying from—the exotic, the middle-of-nowhere, the legendary—Eppley Airfield (where I hear corn grows in abundance), to the mystical land of Ketchikan International Airport that lies nestled in the ever-so ice-encrusted bosom of Alaska. Oh, and in case your insatiable trivia-love needs satiating, bear in mind that Alaska is the only state in the U.S. that can boast about having coastlines on three different seas. Yes, three! Atlantic, who?

But let me tell you, when you pay that ever fluctuating airfare to board one of those miraculous metal birds, drawing an aloof arc across the sky, you're not merely exchanging cash for a cramped economy class seat with as much legroom as a matchbox offers to a porcupine, you're buying yourself a whimsical tale of enduring one-way or round-trip flights (whatever be your poetic cup of tea), that your grandchildren would recall with a gasp and a giggle, many moons from now.

For your convenience, or rather for the airline's convenience cleverly disguised as your convenience, there are two eternal truths to your itinerary. First, that a direct flight is typically 'never' direct. Direct flights from Eppley to Ketchikan are as rare as a warm day in Alaska. One might believe that a direct flight would logically imply no layovers. Oh, dear reader, your naivety is endearing. Direct only means the flight number doesn't change, not that you won't disembark mid-journey, have a cup of coffee that tastes like warm shoe-polish, and later board the same flight again, carrying the same romanticized number, perhaps from a different gate, bewilderingly distant from the one you disembarked at.

Second, the term non-stop flights is an exercise in hyperbole. There is a stop, you see, ultimately, when you reach the destination. Their existence is as profound as the stop in 'non-stop'. It's a satirical nod to the exhausting inevitability of all journeys—they must end. Unless, of course, you find yourself aboard the mythic Aeroplane that Never Landed. Ah, but such digression!

You might also find yourself glancing at the best time to book. Which, amusingly, is 'always' six months ago (or maybe during a global aviation crisis, but let’s not jinx anything). It seems airlines' ideal customers are seers that can predict their travel plans with the precision of an astrophysicist addressing an interstellar appointment.

While in flight, you can satiate yourself with the marvels of in-flight services. Ah, the singular joy of being handed a 95% air, 5% potato chips packet! The sheer ecstasy of sipping a drink served at the precise temperature of molten lava! Such exquisite delights only a frequent flyer would understand.

And if the journey doesn’t entirely thrill you by its mesmerizing magic, there's always the baggage allowance to keep your enthusiasm alive (in a morbid sense). The anxiety of the prevalent Russian Roulette that is played at the time of baggage weigh-ins is something Alfred Hitchcock would've been inspired by.

Lastly, don't for a millisecond worry about the flight cancellation policy. You're more likely to comprehend E=mc^2 after a three-beers-down Friday night, than to make actual sense of the labyrinthine literature that is an Airline's cancellation policy.

So here's to you brave traveler. As you leap (or rather, get stuffed like a canned sardine) from domestic, to the sprightly frontier of international flights, may you find the treasures you're seeking—namely, a comfortable seat and a smooth 'non-stop' ride—with inimitable courage, grim humor, and a minimum of turbulence. Bon voyage!