Thursday, September 17, 2009
Where to start?
Okay the beginning (where else), but I reserve the right to skip chronological events like that crap movie I saw - when was it - some time ago.
Chapter 1. The Hilton.
Rather than wake in a blind panic on Tuesday morning and race to the airport and inevitably forget something, I instead decide to treat myself to a night at the Melbourne Airport Hilton Hotel. Was okay. I felt spoilt. Perfect start to a long overdue holiday. Highlight was the Ox-cheek tagine. Mmmmm. Ox.
Chapter 2. Melbourne to Singapore.
Was seated next to a polite elderly couple en route to visit their daughter who backpacked to the UK eight years ago and never came back. They were sweet, and Margaret was funny ordering Singapore Slings followed by rum and coke all journey. But that's hardly newsworthy.
We were in row 32 (or something which is two rows behind business class - which means the row behind the families with infants. OH JOY! Not only were the family in front the parents of an evil demon spawn who screamed and evil demonic scream from the moment we started taxiing, but they were the rudest, most demanding, selfish a-holes I have ever travelled with (well, near). They pressed the stewardess call button CONSTANTLY. Not occasioanlly, but CONSTANTLY. I'm not going to go too much into it, 'cause it would only make me mad, but seriously - they expected to be waited on hand and foot, and probably would have been happy to have artificial limbs attached so that they may be service constantly as well. These guys made the next-most-annoying-brat-ever-to-travel (the young girl who insisted on kicking the back of my sat for the entire duration of the journey) seem perfectly angelic in comparison.
Chapter 3. Singapore.
Arrive with 7 hours to spare. Alone. What to do but catch the train into town and sink some authentic Singapore Slippers at Raffles. so as I'm heading out through immigration the dude asks "what are you doing? Where are you going?" and I says, "Meh, I've been here before, I know what I'm doing" to which he replies (like a good wanna-be policeman) "Just make sure you're back in plentty of time to get your return flight - you don't have long."
I had SEVEN spare hours.
So I catch the (ridiculously efficient) train into town and head straight for Raffles. Hey, I might not know much (despite being the smartest man Andrew knows) but I have ONE-HELLUVA sense of direction. Sit down and order myself a sling.
This stuff is good. I mean REALLY good. It goes down so easily in the 98% humidity that you begin to question whether or not it would be wrong to get a room here and just spend the rest of my life sitting in this heat and drinking this magical elixr. "Would you like another?" asks my man behing the bar. Thinking "F*£$en OATH" I politely agree that another would be just the tonic. The second lasts less than the first as I start to calculate the possibility of taking the next one intraveinously.
"Another?" asks the next barkeep.
"ABSO-FARKEN-LUTELY!" I think but instead have the presence of mind to ask "That depends... how much are these costing me?"
"WHAAAAAAAAAA???????" I sputter, "umm... best get me a beer."
So I head back to Changi (we don't call it 'the airport', we call it 'Changi') with still hours before the flight. But, like Mr Immigration policeman said, I didn't wanna be late.
But now I have to go and have a cuppa tea before visiting some of Sheena's relatives, so I'll continue chapter 3 when I have a minute soon.
Craig McCraig from the Clan Craig