What I don't have...

What I don't have...

Queues formed quickly at the counter as people courteously waited for a room to be alloted to them. I must say that for being a people who have been accused, among other things, of being loud, brash, rude, insensitive, dumb, arrogant, overbearing, egocentric, and -expletive starting with f deleted- -expletive starting with b deleted-, the Americans are far, far, far, far, far, far more courteous, ruly, and well-behaved than many peoples. And as a result of "peer pressure", other people were forced to comply in behaviour. Ok, not all of them are Americans, but I don't see any of those outbursts that they are famed for. I don't see anyone asking to sue Singapore Airlines at the slightest problem. (Maybe not yet. They were too shell-shocked, if you ask me. But still, a people that can behave at 3 am in the morning is cultured.)

I took the longest queue and staked out. It was the correct decision because I got my key before the last guys in the other queues. For once, my instinct was spot-on.

That is really beside the point. I wanted to see if Miss Hungry Ghost was floating around somewhere in the lobby or is she devouring SQ's offerings. Wonder if they had to burn the food into ashes first. Heh heh heh... (For readers who are unaware, the Chinese believe that when papers with gold or silver or special prints are burnt, they go to hell and the ghosts and wandering spirits can "receive" them and use them for the necessary actions and transactions.)

I didn't have a good view of her so I probably couldn't recognise her if she floated in front of my face.

3.30 am. I got my keys and went to my room. I didn't bother about the toothbrush and toothpaste offered. A couple of days' worth of tartar will not kill you. And since I had taken my bath before I left for the airport, I took off my shirt, put some water down to heat and climbed into my bed.

This Marriott had a musty, smoky smell. Like some old run down cigarette smoke infused inn where the tarry oils have seeped into the upholstery and wallpapers. The smell won't dissipate.

I turned on the television so that I won't go to bed. I wanted jetlag to start before I hit Singapore, so hopefully I can save a day of misery.

A Few Good Men was on telly. Tom Cruise looked so young then and that bad guy, I forgot his name, was so bloody irritating. "You cannot handle the truth, son!" Yeah, right. The truth is, I'm watching this crappy show because my plane engine caught fire.

The show ended soon because when I started, it was already the courtroom scene. And I understood why I would watch JAG but not AFGM. JAG is compact and fast. I like that. It's akin to watching a medical drama vs a full blow by blow surgery. C'mon, don't tell me you really like to waft through the entire surgery? "This is the spleen." *Splat into kidney dish*. And then, maybe some actress can come on and say, "In my country, they fry this with ginger, spring onions, dark soya sauce, and shaoxing wine. It's delicious." (Readers who love this are invited to join me for kuay chap when we meet. Top on the list are pig anuses, tongue, intestines, and snout. Yum yum!

Ok, I digress again. So I went to the toilet and the phone rang. You know, drama is always like this. When you are alone on a trip and when you take a leak, the phone *must* ring. Don't ask me why. Call this the Single Traveller's Theorem No. n.

So I missed the call. And they actually recorded that there was a message for me. A message at 4.15 am? I returned call and was connected to an answering machine that said there was a message for me and I should call the Operator. Duh. Why can't they have an option, "To speak with a human, press 1128934128953718975891274589107905719827395" or something to the effect of the first 20 decimals of pi. So I called the operator and when I was told the message, I blissfully went to sleep.

To be continued...