Here are the rules for setting a Guinness world record

Here are the rules for setting a Guinness world record for paper airplane time aloft: 1. The flight must take place indoors. 2. The plane must be made from a single sheet of paper that is no larger than 9.84 by 13.90 inches (250 x 353 mm) and weighs no more than 5 ounces (150 grams). Typing or copier paper works great. 3. It is OK to use some tape or glue. 4. The plane must be thrown from level ground. The stopwatch must start when you'release the plane, and end when the plane touches anything (the floor, a wall, a chair…). 5. You are allowed six attempts. 6. You must submit the following to file a record claim: • Signed statements from two witnesses saying that they saw you set the record. • A newspaper clipping about the event. • Color photographs and a continuous video tape of the flight (you must have both). NOTE: it is not required that a Guinness representative be present.
Feed the bird with seeds twice a day. The remainder of the time, he needs to be given fresh fruits and vegetables like carrots, leafy greens, beet, peas or parsley. This allows to supplement his nutrition, as an only-seed diet is not sufficient. Change the water every day, and keep a constant check on it, especially on hot days. Also, put a mineral block in the cage so that the parakeet can grind at it for its daily mineral and calcium needs.
DAY 5: I want to see how the other half lives and spend the day in Central, Hong Kong Island's microcosm of capitalism. Cross Victoria Harbor by the centuries-old Star Ferry through a morning miasma of pollution and follow white-collared crowds of businessmen contending with cell phones, briefcases and lattés into their respective skyscrapers. Later observe as many women shopping in designer department stores - these must be the wives. I notice that they all clutch their purses as I walk by, then realize why as I catch a glimpse of myself in the reflective fa?ade of the Bank of China tower. My head cast down in self-consciousness, I almost get rolled over by a Rolls (driving on the wrong side of the road, damn Brits!), then almost again by a double-decker cable car. Everyone in Central must be against me. My insecurities are firmed up that evening in Lan Kwai Fong, a gentrified neighborhood of upscale restaurants and bars on the Island's northern escarpment. The steep streets are congested with young, well-to-do westpats toasting yet another successful day of money -making. I can't believe there are so many white people in China who aren't English teachers! They are all smartly dressed and have well-groomed hair; I am wearing cutoff army pants, low-top fake Converse, an eight year old t-shirt that I bought used, nor have I shaved or cut my locks in the eight months I've been on the road. I want to belong, but I don't. It's one of those moments when I regret being unemployed.
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