It’s Monday, our favourite day of the week.
But don’t get too downhearted, because as I said on Friday, I’m currently flying back to Singapore which means this is all I could be bothered to write for today.
Consider it my gift to you.
The bad news? It all goes back to normal tomorrow.
And by normal, I mean terrible. But you knew that already.
There is some even worse news … at least for me.
You see I’ll be flying to Singapore on a Boeing 777, the same plane that tragically went missing recently.
Worse, I’m also flying back on a 777, on pretty much the same route, at pretty much the same time as the lost MH370 and I have to admit, it’s freaking me out a little bit. I know there is absolutely no reason to connect the two situations, but my brain is still making me think about it – which shows how we are ruled by our emotions.
That said, it’s not as bad as the time I was flying from Rio to Paris on Air France when I read in the paper that the black box of the Air France plane that had crashed on it’s way to Pairs from Rio, 2 years earlier, had finally been found.
There I was, hurtling through the air at 30,000 feet when I realised that I was on the exact flight, airline, route and time as the one that had crashed a few years earlier. I went to the toilet a lot that flight, especially after every bump of turbulence.
For someone who flies a lot, I seem to have a lot of incidents on planes … from being accused of being a stowaway to standing on an elderly Japanese man’s testicles to being woken up by a drunk Irish woman scratching my face for supposedly kidnapping her husband. I suppose if my incidents are those rather than ones requiring international rescue, I’m OK with that.
Jesus, I’m making myself a nervous wreck, so until [hopefully] tomorrow …