Dawn caught us approaching Vietnam. The sky lit up halfway to the destination, the small Seletar airfield. Somewhere behind, the engines of our healed Boeing 737-500 hum steadily, the air is calm, like sour cream in the refrigerator. On the air, from time to time, something is croaking in languages we do not understand. The night drags on for an unbearably long time. I want to sleep, but there are still two hours of flight and landing ahead. Landing, which should be the most important test of the young captain. That captain is me.