Man in his wisdom has finally achieved what no one thought possible – regular, daily nonstop flight service between New York City and Hong Kong. With a flight time of 15 hours and 40 minutes, the trip on United Airlines is the longest daily nonstop flight in the world, shattering the old record of 15 hours and 10 minutes for the shuttle between New York City and Philadelphia.

The following is a diary kept by a passenger on a recent flight.

10:50 a.m.: United Flight 821 is cleared for take-off. I would spend this time marveling at the amazing age in which we live, except I am distracted by a flight magazine profile of Mel Gibson. By the time I look up, we are lifting off, ascending to a new era of flight.

10:50 a.m. and 7 seconds: The 3-year-old sitting behind me starts kicking my chair.

12:15 p.m.: The stewardess asks for drink orders, and the man in front of me flies into an extravagant fit of air rage, screaming "What kind of airline doesn't serve Jell-O shooters?!"

1:01 p.m.: Flight attendants serve lunch – a choice of beef lasagna or chicken nuggets. The passenger who is throwing a tantrum puts a chicken nugget over one of his eyes and yells, "Look at me! I'm Colonel Clink!" Meanwhile, the 3-year-old behind me flings blobs of lasagna at the back of my head. I would object, but I find it strangely soothing.

2:49 p.m.: I learn that the in-flight movies will be `Red Planet,' `Vertical Limit' and `102 Dalmatians.' Inconsiderate passenger by the emergency exit refuses to let me open the hatch and jump to my death.

6:05 p.m.: Dinner is served – a choice of beef lasagna or chicken nuggets. The plane crosses the North Pole. Pilot accidentally leaves on the intercom as he screams, "Holy mother of God, the compass says we're flying straight up!"

10:39 p.m.: The man with the air rage calms down, puts on his captain's hat and goes forward for his shift piloting the plane.

12:01 a.m.: The whiny, spoiled 3-year-old behind me becomes a whiny, spoiled 4-year-old.

1:10 a.m.: The breakfast cart comes – beef lasagna or chicken nuggets. Several passengers from coach attempt violent rebellion, but are too cramped to move their arms. I laugh about this with the 4-year-old, who is now 5.

1:53 a.m.: I think the plane hits a pocket of turbulence, until I realize it's just me. I vow to switch from the beef lasagna to the chicken nuggets.

2:30 a.m. (2:30 p.m. Hong Kong time): Plane comes in for a landing. Unfortunately, the pilot turns out to have flown in the wrong direction, so the plane has actually landed back in New York, and somehow it is two days before we left. This is a pleasant surprise for the passenger next to me, who had just said after the showing of "Red Planet," "Well, that's two hours I'm never getting back."

And for the rest of us, it only means we can once again experience the miraculous new age of flight, in which everything is the same as the old age of flight, but three freakin' hours longer.