There I was, on a Thai Airways flight to Taipei, on my way to visit relatives.
I had laid in front of me, a French newspaper, listening to Italian opera on my iPod, filling out an immigration form in English.
The attendants started distributing breakfast. When they reached me, I seized the opportunity to practice my Thai. I registered the first selection as “omlette” and the second I didn’t make out. I asked “ruu mii arrai?” Repeated when the attendant gave me a blank face. And repeated. And repeated, after each attempt lacked a proper response.
I then looked down and realized she was the one Chinese-speaking attendant onboard.