I have several flights coming up this summer, and I flew constantly Back in the Day, so I’ve been thinking about some of my odder flight experiences. Among them:

–The time the guy next to me, who admitted he was flying for his first time ever (he looked to be in his 50s), asked me how much he should tip the flight attendant.

–The $900 worth of vouchers — and a first-class return upgrade — my wife and I got for taking a two-hour return bump in Vegas one time.

–Flying on the now-defunct MarkAir and watching the paint peel off of the plane as it cruised along at 30,000 feet.

–Riding in first class with two other passengers on a Northwest Airlines 737 that had to be shuttled back to Washington from Boston. Everyone else who was supposed to be on it caught another plane that left at the same time when this one got delayed, but I had some work to do and hung around for another hour while they got this plane working. I shot the bull with the crew — heck, in those pre-9/11 days, the captain even left the cockpit door open so I could look out the windshield. I still remember watching the runway rush up to greet me.

–Breaking a legion of FAA regulations on various politician charter planes. I’ve stood in the aisle while a plane was taking off; I’ve ‘sky-surfed’ on a piece of cardboard down the center aisle; I’ve gotten ripped on a few long late-night flights and once tripped and partially fell down the back stairs on a plane while disembarking as a result.

–Flying on Air Force One, which I’ve done three times. The press pool has a little room to itself all the way in the back. It looks like a little rec room back there. It’s definitely not as glamorous as you think (although it is very comfortable), but I once got escorted up front to interview a Cabinet official and got to see how the cool kids lived. That’s the only plane I’ve been on that had its own conference table.

–Waking up more times than I can count on a plane and having no idea what city I just landed in.

–Flying on the last charter flight of MGM Air before it went out of business. The plane was filled with seats that looked just like recliners, and there was a big bar in the middle of the jet. It was sweet.

–Flying on a little private jet with a little-known governor of a small southern state, along with his aide and two other reporters. In a year, that governor would be president; his aide would be one of the most powerful men in the United States and those reporters would go on to become political director of ABC News and the host of PBS’ Washington Week. It was a great plane, too.

I never flew until I was 25. By the time I was 35, I’m fairly confident I had flown at least a half-million miles. I still like it more than I care to admit, and I look forward to my next adventure in flying.