Why I’ll Keep Counting…

By Yeyan Shi, Bumprints Strategy & Operations Lead

My flight count 2025: 

Eleven flights, which emitted 13,600 kg of CO₂.

The numbers stared back at me like an accusation I’d been trying to outrun.

But 2025 was the year I relocated from Singapore to San Francisco, I tell myself. And family visits are not negotiable. But then there was Buenos Aires: a two-week Spanish immersion that I absolutely did not need to fly more than 10,000 miles for. 

Would I do it again?
Possibly, but definitely with deeper consideration and more careful planning.

Which flyer am I?

I’d like to think I fit neatly into one of our Flyer personas. Hana, the Mindful Traveller, or maybe Tanya, the Guilty Flyer, but in reality, I am both and neither. I am increasingly concerned about the climate crisis, yet when it comes to booking flights, the lower cost still tends to outweigh the lower emissions numbers. 

I have yet to find a trusted carbon offsetting project that I truly trust – perhaps because I don’t believe that throwing a bit of money at this problem will make it go away. The same skepticism applies to purchasing so-called ‘sustainable’ aviation fuel (SAF); after all, the savings are supposed to come from how the fuel is made, not the engine, and I’d want real proof it adds up at scale, when it’s still under 1% of the fuel we burn.

At my previous company, I used to fly business class on long-haul routes while carefully avoiding the inconvenient fact that choosing business class seats produces far more emissions per passenger. Yes, you are probably more productive on the flight and better rested on arrival, but at what cost? And how many of those meetings really needed to be in person anyway? 

What happened to the magic of flying?

A girlfriend recently joked about me becoming a billionaire and flying her everywhere by private jet. She already flies business class everywhere, but says she “can’t stand waiting at airports with the masses”. (She doesn’t realize that the real masses, 80% of the world, have never even stepped foot on an aircraft.) “Sorry, that’s not happening,” I laughed, then mentioned that luxury flying, including first class and private jets, accounts for a disproportionately large share of aviation emissions. “Fine. You fly economy,” she shot back, half-jokingly, “I’ll happily take my private jet. Ciao.” 

This conversation stuck with me. For my parents’ generation, in China, a single international flight was a life event. Something you saved up for, savoured with excitement, and then reminisced about for years. But in 2025, I took eleven flights in three months. At what point did we normalise this? And even more unsettling: when did the magic of flying become not magical enough? 

When I multiply my flights by the millions of other people making the same choices and the same rationalisations, it is clear we are cooking the planet. (While telling ourselves it’s OK, possibly because we checked the ‘carbon offsetting’ box on a booking screen).

The practice of counting

The core of my dilemma is this: How do I weigh the 1,200 kg of a single trip home against my mother’s hug? I don’t have an answer for that one. 

I can’t stop flying and maintain the life I’ve built across continents, but I also can’t claim to be serious about climate action while flying at this rate.

But acknowledging my own flight count is an important first step. 

This is why Bumprints exists. It isn’t about perfection or shame; it is about making better choices so that connection doesn’t cost us the planet.

My aspirational flight count for 2026 is six flights—a target that may shift with family or career needs.

But I’ll keep counting, not as penance but as practice. Counting keeps me from looking away, and counting means I can’t pretend the environmental costs don’t exist while I rack up the air miles.


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