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After researching hundreds of volunteer opportunities and eliminating projects thatinvolved cleaning rodent cages, speaking Polish or administering anesthesia, I have devised the following itinerary. The schedule is subject to change.

What I’ll be doing: Camping at a four-day country music festival known as "The Super Bowl of Country Music"-in other words, absolutely nothing of value. The idea is to kick off M:I with the least useful activity imaginable and then spend the next three months making restitution.

July 19-28: Sadler’s Midnight Sun Ultra Challenge, Fairbanks to Anchorage, Alaska

What I’ll be doing: Driving a support vehicle for the Tour de France of wheelchair racing, a 6-day, 265-mile stage race involving some 20 world-class athletes. I’ll be joining an international group of volunteers coordinated by Volunteers for Peace.

What I’ll be doing: Helping build houses in a village in this hot, wet, sticky country that occupies the eastern half of the island of New Guinea, just north of Australia.

What I’ll be doing: Going door to door on my bicycle to garner votes for Adam Schiff, a Democratic state senator aiming to unseat Republican Jim Rogan.

What I'll be doing: Helping researchers determine which toys and tools make depressed, caged chimpanzees happier.

What I’ll be doing: Running irrigation lines, installing raised garden beds and schlepping wheelbarrows full of dirt. This community farm serves the families of the kids at the Saul Martinez Elementary School, in the country’s second-poorest community.

Why I’ve Changed My Itinerary

Enough with living in a tree house — I want room service

By Suzanne Schlosberg

You may have noticed that Raratonga and South Dakota have mysteriously vanished from the itinerary and have been replaced by China and Washington state.

Let me first address the issue of China. Perhaps I can explain it in one word: hotel.

Not to belabor the point, but thus far on Mission: Implausible, I have slept in a trailer, a tent and, essentially, a tree house. Now let me present the Global Volunteers’ description of the accommodations in Xi’an, where I’ll be teaching English. "The hotel rooms are very comfortable with all necessary amenities."

I am sure that even Mother Teresa herself appreciated room service every now and then.

But comfort was not the only reason for the switch. (In fact, the Raratonga accommodations did include a bed and bathroom.) I also felt that I’d gotten my fill of the South Pacific, at least for the time being. No offense to Raratonga, which gets a nice write-up in Paul Theroux’s pretentious travelogue The Happy Isles of Oceania. ("The island seemed to slumber dreaming its green dreams in its green shade …") But I simply think I should offer my services to a different part of the world.

To avoid losing the money I had paid for Raratonga, I had to choose another destination offered by Global Volunteers. I picked China because I thought an urban environment might be a good change. To quote again from Theroux’s pompous book: "It did not surprise me that life [on Raratonga] proceeded at the slowest possible pace, but rather that it proceeded at all." Xi’an is a city of 3 million and the capital of the Shaanxi Province.

Now you may think that traveling to China to teach elementary school English is not the most helpful pursuit a volunteer could undertake. I thought the same thing myself. The Raratonga job — painting a community center and other light-labor projects — seemed more useful, and certainly more of a stretch for a person like me. But the Global Volunteers coordinator disagreed. "The children of China desperately need to learn English in order to get ahead," she pleaded. Suddenly, I felt the weight of 1 billion Chinese on my shoulders. How could I not go?

As for South Dakota, I had planned to volunteer at the Black Hills Wild Horse Sanctuary. The refuge offers freedom and a quality of life to wild mustangs, many of which, apparently, have died on federal ranges from starvation and thirst. Although the cause seemed worthy, the volunteer opportunities in October were described as "office and gift-shop tasks." This did not seem like the best use of my time, since one of my goals is not only to help animals but also to interact with them.

The interaction part is key because, frankly, I don’t especially like animals. Dogs, cats, hamsters, iguanas — I’ve just never felt any particular kinship with the animal kingdom. To briefly answer your anticipated questions:

1.) No, I was not attacked by an animal as a child. I simply do not enjoy spending time around creatures that slobber, stink, shed and/or relieve themselves in public.

2). Yes, I know that babies exhibit much the same behavior. But at least they grow up and (if you’re lucky) leave the house. There is little chance that your schnauzer will ever turn 18 and utter the phrase: "Mom, Dad, I’m off to go backpacking in Europe!"

3.) No, I am not now nor have I ever been in therapy regarding this issue.

At any rate, given my aversion to animals, I decided that — in order to broaden myself — it was important for me to have direct contact with them. So I will be traveling to Central Washington to help depressed, captive chimpanzees. According to Earthwatch, chimps confined in a zoo become "bored, unhealthy, even self-destructive." So researchers are experimenting with a variety of tools and toys to stimulate the chimps’ intelligence and keep them happy. As a volunteer, I will assist in these tasks, and, according to my travel literature, I will "come to know each chimp on a first-name basis, their likes and dislikes, their moods and faces." Hmmm. I can hardly wait.

A couple of other minor itinerary changes: The Mecca farm project has been postponed until the week of Oct. 2 for logistical reasons too boring to discuss. Also, I have decided to err on the side of prudence and steer clear of the Habitat for Humanity 6-in-24 Bicycle Challenge. Considering that I have not bicycled a total of 300 miles in the past two months, it is absurd, given my schedule, to think that I could cover that distance in a single day.

Finally, you may be wondering how I’m funding this change of plans. Well, something remarkable happened: When I called United Airlines to inquire about using my frequent flyer miles, I was told that seats were available for all flights to and from Seattle and Xi’an. It must have been the karma I earned while dealing with the pit toilet in Papua New Guinea.

Forgive me. I promised I wouldn’t mention toilets again, but I apparently I couldn’t help myself.

Back in my newspaper days, I covered a contest in which the lucky winners were asked to taste and evaluate 48 flavors of Dreyer’s ice cream, only three of which would survive the long journey from ice cream research lab to supermarket freezer. This was my dream assignment. However, standing amidst four dozen giant tubs of ice cream proved to be so exciting and overwhelming that I could not gather my wits and formulate a sensible tasting plan.

Sadly, I failed to pace myself, began to confuse Kona Coffee with Almond Roca with Mocha Fudge and developed such severe stomach cramps that afterward I attempted to neutralize the sugar overdose by eating an entire box of bacon-flavored crackers and a package of Italian salami. It was months before I tasted ice cream again.

I mention this incident because I experienced a similar sense of excitement and bewilderment as I began to plan Mission: Implausible. There were thousands of volunteer opportunities, and I had the urge to sign up for all of them. I wanted to clean rivers in Greenland! Farm eggplants in Japan! Teach English in Lithuania! Rehabilitate raptors in Kentucky!

Of course, with limited time, money and skills, I had to choose carefully. I also had to schedule enough short breaks so that I would not burn out on being useful and vow never to volunteer for anything again, other than booking the spa treatments for my friend Cami’s bachelorette party.

I decided that diversity was key. I’d volunteer locally and abroad. I’d help humans and animals. I’d experience the beach and the mountains, the tropics and the desert. I’d try organized expeditions that you pay for, along with programs willing to accept my services for free.

So I sifted through options on the Web, scoured a handy book called "Volunteer Vacations" and consulted with friends who had actually done some good. My friend Julie, a health researcher in developing nations, recommended a non-profit group that monitors elections in Zimbabwe. However, I chose to focus on programs where potential bodily harm was more likely to involve lower back pain than, say, multiple stab wounds.

Another friend, Sarah, suggested Heifer Project International, an Arkansas-based anti-hunger organization where she once spent a week extracting fecal samples from goats. "Don’t worry!" Sarah said. "You wear really long gloves!"

In a rare moment of bravery, I actually did call the Heifer folks, who cheerfully accepted my offer to volunteer but said I’d have to commit to at least one month on the farm. I have no idea what kind of drugs they were taking.

I then inquired about a sea turtle conservation project near Savannah, Georgia, dedicated to monitoring the habits of these poor, endangered creatures and their adorable hatchlings. But the program was sold out all summer long.

Frankly, I was thrilled. It sounded just awful. You’re stranded for a week on a sweltering island, where you wait up all night for the remote possibility that a turtle will crawl ashore. When the sun comes up, you retire with your group to a stifling, showerless cabin and attempt to sleep on a cot. I figured the turtles could survive without me.

I also attempted to sign up for an archaeological dig of woolly mammoth bones in South Dakota, figuring I could do little harm to animals that were not only dead but also extinct. Alas, this project was sold out, too.

I was pretty darned pleased with myself when it came to booking flights for Mission: Implausible.

After devoting four years of my life to accumulating frequent flyer miles-switching from AT&T to MCI, charging my daily Frappuccino on my United Airlines Visa card, overpaying for a hotel in Iceland so Icould charge the visit and earn the points-I had amassed enough miles (256,808) on three different airlines to fly the entire operation for free. I was going to save more than $4,000.

First, I tried to get to from L.A. to Columbus, Ohio, on TWA for the Jamboree in the Hills. Not counting the 15 minutes wasted because the customer service representative punched in "Las Vegas" instead of "Los Angeles," it took 25 minutes for me to learn that I could not fly to Ohio on an "award" ticket-either on Economy or First Class, either on July 12 or July 13, either on TWA or any of its "partner" airlines. I was even willing to burn 40,000 miles to fly First Class on a red-eye flight with a layover in St. Louis. For each scenario I presented, the customer service representative had the same reply: "Sorry!"

I then called United to see if, by any chance, any of their partner airlines flew to Wheeling, West Virginia, closer to the Jamboree than Columbus. "No, m’am," the United Airlines Owner-Representative told me. "But we do fly to Chicago, Illi-NOISE. It’s only 9 miles away."

I could see this particular United Airlines Owner-Representative was not equipped to discuss the more esoteric subject of frequent flyer miles, so I called back and got a more competent Owner-Representative, who promptly informed me that I could not use my miles to fly to or near Columbus on or near the dates and times that I wanted to travel.

"You’re telling me there is not ONE seat available from Los Angeles to Columbus at any time of day or night on July 12 or July 13?"

At this point, I called back TWA and was informed of a "special deal" whereby you surrender 50,000 miles and can have any coach seat on any day for free. The following conversation ensued:

I was so enraged at the idea of squandering 50,000 miles to fly coach that I did something even more ludicrous: I squandered 80,000 miles-theoretically enough to fly to Cairo-to get the "special deal" to fly First Class to Columbus! But since I had only 78,280 miles on TWA, I had to purchase the additional mileage for $53.

I then tried using my United miles to get to Raratonga on United’s Mileage partner, Air New Zealand. I was even willing to waste 90,000 miles to fly Business Class and endure the humiliation of traveling on a humanitarian mission while enjoying extra leg room. Sure, I could use my mileage, the customer service representative said-if I wanted to spend SEVEN WEEKS on the island.

I thought I had scored an impressive victory when I succeeded in booking a free ticket on Alaska Airlines to Anchorage for the wheelchair race, (even though the inconvenient itinerary included a midnight arrival and a midnight departure). But when I attempted to claim my voucher for this "free" ticket, I was informed that I would have to pay a $60 penalty because I had booked the ticket less than 30 days before my departure.

But hey, I charged it all to my United Airlines Visa card. That’s 3,410 miles awarded to my account!