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years had made it the number one travel agency in France, has fascinated the business press. Like FNAC. like Club Med, Nouvelles Frontières —born right along with a new age of leisure culture —might stand as a symbol of the new face of modern capitalism. In the year 2000, for the first time, the tourist industry became —in terms of turnover—the biggest economic activity in the world. Though it required only a moderate level of physical fitness, "Thai Tropic" was listed under "Adventure Tours": a range of accommodation options (simple, standard, deluxe); group numbers limited to twenty to ensure a better group dynamic. I saw two really cute black girls with backpacks arriving, and I dared to hope that they'd opted for the same tour. Then I looked away and went to collect my travel documents. The flight was scheduled to last a little more than eleven hours.
    Taking a plane today, regardless of the airline, regardless of the destination, amounts to being treated like shit for the duration of the flight. Crammed into a ridiculously tiny space from which it's impossible to move without disturbing an entire row of fellow passengers, you are greeted from the outset with a series of privations announced by stewardesses sporting fake smiles. Once on board, their first move is to get hold of your personal belongings so they can put them in overhead lockers—to which you will not have access under any circumstances until the plane lands. Then, for the duration of the flight, they do their utmost to find ways to bully you, all the while making it impossible for you to move about, or more generally to move at all, with the exception of a certain number of permitted activities: enjoying fizzy drinks, watching American videos, buying duty-free products. The unremitting sense of danger, fueled by mental images of plane crashes, the enforced immobility in a cramped space, provokes a feeling of stress so powerful that a number of passengers have reportedly died of heart attacks while on long-haul flights. The crew do their level best to maximize this stress by preventing you from combating it by habitual means. Deprived of cigarettes and reading matter, passengers are more and more frequently even deprived of alcohol. Thank God the bitches don't do body searches yet. As an experienced passenger, I had been able to stock up on some necessities for survival: a few 21 mg Nicorette patches, sleeping pills, a flask of Southern Comfort. I fell into a thick sleep as we were flying over the former East Germany.
    I was awakened by a weight on my shoulder, and warm breath. I gently pushed my neighbor upright in his seat. He groaned softly but didn't open his eyes. He was a big guy, about thirty, with light brown hair in a bowl cut; he didn't look too unpleasant, or too clever. In fact, he was rather endearing, wrapped up in the soft blue blanket supplied by the airline, his big manual laborer's hands resting on his knees. I picked up the paperback that had fallen at his feet: a shitty Anglo-Saxon best-seller by one Frederick Forsyth. I had read something by this halfwit that was full of heavy-handed eulogies to Margaret Thatcher and ludicrous depictions of the USSR as the "evil empire." I'd wondered how he managed after the fall of the Berlin Wall. I leafed through his new opus. Apparently, this time, the roles of the bad guys were played by Serb nationalists; here was a man who kept up to date with current affairs. As for his beloved hero, the tedious Jason Monk, he had gone back into service with the CIA, which had formed an alliance of convenience with the Chechen mafia. Well! I thought, replacing the book on my neighbor's knees, what a charming sense of morality best-selling British authors have. The page was marked with a piece of paper folded in three, which I recognized as the Nouvelles Frontières itinerary: I had, apparently, just met my first tour companion. A fine fellow, I was sure, certainly a lot less egocentric and neurotic