Always try the direct approach

In an effort to save 400 yuan ($62.83) on my trip to Hong Kong two weeks ago, I booked the cheapest flight I could find to Guangzhou. My friend had convinced me that it was a fiscally wise to fly non-direct, as Guangzhou is a short train ride to Hong Kong. It was only later I discovered two problems: First, my friend hadn't actually done this, and second, in buying the cheapest flight, I had booked a flight out of Beijing Nanyuan Airport.

I didn't know that Beijing had another civilian airport aside from the Beijing Capital International Airport. After nervously scouring the Web, I confirmed that this domestic airport, primarily a military airfield, did in fact exist.

For my 4 pm flight, I left the Dongzhimen area at around 1:20 pm. I was armed with maps, as I was worried that the cab driver would not be familiar with the location, south of Fourth Ring Road, in Fengtai District. Luckily, the jovial cabbie was geographically adept, and I soon found myself breezily coasting downtown, imagining a drive through the lush European countryside.

My daydream ended abruptly at 2:00 pm, with a lurch into an inconspicuous field; the few airplanes I saw were enshrouded in uncut grass. Idyllic, hilly European roads were replaced with images of spectacular plane crashes. The actual airport, a forgettable grey blob, resembled a typical railroad station but with none of the fast food perks.

I usually love lingering around airports; there's excitement, possibilities, hints of romance. Nanyuan? Not so much. Food, the usual way to cure boredom, proved dismal; the only options were shriveled snacks. There were no outlets or seats; problems I could deal with - but the lack of duty free stores, where I usually spray myself with sample perfume - that was the first sign this was a mistake.

The only perk was that the "security check" took just five minutes. When I finally boarded China United Airlines, the sole commercial airline at Nanyuan, I felt victorious: The journey was half over and I had endured minimal, first world tribulations.

Upon landing in Guangzhou, I realized the process my friend had described as "board a bus from the airport to get to Hong Kong," actually meant a 140 yuan, one-hour cab ride to the train station. I arrived at Guangzhou East Railway Station at 8 pm, where the austere ticket attendant informed me that I had missed the cut-off for the 8:15 pm train. Pleading proved futile; it would have to be the 10:30 pm train.　

To kill the two-hour wait, I sulked at a McDonalds in a consolatory cornucopia of fried food. My original plan for a gluttonous dim sum dinner was lost in a haze of chicken. When the train finally pulled up to Hong Kong at 12:30 pm, I came to two depressing conclusions: It had taken about 11 hours to get from Beijing to Hong Kong, and the 400 yuan I had initially planned on saving was spent. Next time, I'm flying direct.