Yesterday, for an article I’m hoping to write for Living in China, I interviewed a Singapore executive about his role in the 1989 student demonstrations. It was absolutely intriguing. He was in Shanghai, not Beijing, and the differences between how the situation was handled in the two cities is extraordinary.

He didn’t tell me anything earthshattering, but it did impress on me how fundamentally different the Western and Asian approach to human rights is. I have been aware of this, but I never actually discussed it face-to-face with a native Chinese. It’s an interesting conversation, to discuss something as frightening as the Tiananmen Square massacre and agree on everything that took place, and yet arrive at such different conclusions.

I’m about three-quarters done with the article and it should be ready to go by Monday afternoon or Tuesday.

Occasionally in life we encounter situations and things that are so bewildering, so opposite of what they are supposed to be, so absurd and illogical that all we can do is laugh. No, I’m not referring to Ann Coulter’s “writings” or Bush’s latest judicial or commission appointments, but rather to my recent experience flying Air China. I’d been warned about Air China before, but I arrogantly rejected advice that I fly instead on Thai Air. (Actually, Thai Air was sold out so I didn’t have a choice.)

I think everyone should fly a local PRC carrier at least once, just to understand how different things are over here. Maybe then you would believe me.

Last week, as Chinese New Year began, I had no choice but to fly business class out of Beijing on Air China. Luckily I got a very good deal, but it was still costly; my one consolation was knowing that I could relax and enjoy superior service and comfort. How could I have been so hopelessly naive?

I am almost reluctant to post about this debacle, because words can’t really capture the full spectrum of horrors that I witnessed. And chances are no one will believe me, it’s too absurd. All I can say is that it is totally true, scout’s honor.

It started the instant I arrived at the airport. Anticipating heavy traffic to the airport and long lines, I arrived diligently early only to see that there was virtually no service, no one to help, no one to ask questions to at the Air China counters. Several other early arrivers appeared distraught and bewildered, and tried to get answers from the uniformed airport staff walking by, but no one knew, no one had any answers. (It brought back ominous recollections of my recent experience at a Chinese bank.) We formed two lines at the two designated counters for business class travellers, each marked with the red carpet intended to indicate superior service and preferential treatment for those who have paid extra money for their tickets. That’s what I used to think those red carpets meant. At Air China, they are strictly for show.

We ended up waiting there for nearly two hours, totally ignored, before the real madness began. Meanwhile, on either side of the exclusive business class lines, throngs were forming for the economy and tour group counters. Everyone was asking why there was no one to process our tickets, what we were supposed to do. Finally some Air China staff materialized and they began taking tickets — but only from the Economy and Tour Group lines. Business class was ignored. One evil-looking lady just sat on a stool behind the counter scowling and stamping a huge pile of documents. One of the business class passengers had the temerity to walk up to her and ask if there was anyone to help us. At this, the stamper shrieked back at the top of her lungs in a voice that would frighten the doves. I don’t know what she said, but her shrieks went on long and loud. I swear, it was like a parody of the old Soviet scenario of the peasants begging for bread while some bureaucrat, sitting in front of mountains of wheat, kept stamping papers and refusing to let the starving masses have any food. Meanwhile the Economy and Tour Group lines were moving along, slowly but at least going forward.

The two business class lines began to disintegrate as we all realized this was not going to be your everyday “red carpet” experience. People began to flee the red carpets to get onto the Economy line. One European man went running into the hall, frantically halting anyone in a uniform and screaming for help. I watched as everyone he asked basically told him to go to hell. I was the very first on my red-carpet line and I stood my ground, unwilling to start all over, after my two-hour-plus wait. Finally, a frazzled, exhausted and confused-looking woman came out and walked to one of the business class counters. With this, the mobs surged forward and it was absolutely every man for himself. There was no pretense of any politeness or order. Total anarchy as the elite passengers clamoured for this overwhelmed woman to help us get our boarding passes. Luckily I was up front and was able to force my ticket into her hands. There was no hello, no smile; her face showed only a why-are-you-doing-this-to-me look of horror. I thought back to my recent flight on Cathay Pacific, an exercise in elegance, and I wondered again why I ever left Hong Kong. As I walked away clutching my coveted boarding pass, I looked back at the anarchic scene and felt that I had just escaped a true nightmare.

There were thirty minutes left to boarding, and I made my way, trembling and exhausted, to the “business class lounge.” Another assault to the senses, the lounge was dingy, messy and joyless. The only English-language publication on the racks was a dog-earred Air Canada magazine listing the inflight films for December 2002. I just had to laugh.

On to the gate. There was no call for boarding the plane. Someone just materialized and opened the door and began to take people’s tickets. Again, I witnessed another mob scene that seems to typify the Air China experience. No line, just a swollen mass of helpless people waving their tickets. No call for senior citizens or families with small children, no call for first-class/business travellers, just a free-for-all. Again, I braced for battle and made my way toward the front.

The flight itself was less horrific than the airport insanity — but just a little. The plane’s interior was dirty and yellowed with age, the upholstery of the seats worn and frayed. After handing out the packages of mixed nuts, the attendant never came back to pick up the empty packets, which sat on the passengers’ armrests until after dinner. No one offered to refill our empty water glasses. The food was barely passable; the red wine was literally undrinkable.

I am fully aware that it is not fair to hold China up to the standards held by other more developed countries. I do not expect Air China to deliver what Singapore Airlines or Cathay Pacific deliver. That said, there is absolutely no excuse for treating passengers like cattle, whether they are business class or any other class. If they are going to have the audacity to offer a business class product at all and demand a lot of extra money for it, have they not the responsibility to give the passenger at least something back (aside from abuse) — if only a bit of respect or kindness?

As I said, words simply cannot evoke the frustration, anguish and nastiness of this experience. I hope I’ve managed to at least give you a hint of what it was like. I can deal with business class being sub-standard or inferior. But nasty? Vicious? Hateful and abusive? No, I don’t think there’s any excuse, and it takes its place as one of my most jarring and unhappy exeriences here to date.

Oh, and in case I failed to make myself clear: If any of you are considering an international flight on Air China, I strongly recommend you reconsider.