The psychic artist (his name was Lala; can I really trust someone with the smae name asthe 3rd most powerful Tellytubby?) also told me that should I ever get really, really aggravated with someone and subsequently get in a fight then I would be impossible to stop and come close to killing. He obviously saw Bruce Lee qualities in me. He could see in my eyes that it is my destiny to become a master of Jeet Kune Do.
I nearly lost it completely at the airport. I hate people who push in front of me or anyone who has queued properly for that matter. Some old lady did it after 2 young punks got cheeky. I stood rigid, looked stern and didn't let her past. I think she got the message. I don't give a f*** if you're 72 and you've got more luggage than me; i was here first. If there had been extenuating circumstances such as she had an earlier flight and she was going to miss it or she only had one leg then yes, fair enough. But this time, lady, wait your turn.
The flight to Jakarta dragged and dragged. The stewardesses were quite grotesque. Jakarta airport is terrible. My flight to Depansar was at 6.30 am the next morning so there was no point in taking an hour ride to the city centre only to get up at 2.30am to get back. I wasn't allowed into the terminal to wait. The only restaurants outside were serving fast food. I had a cheeseburger and a donut. I felt sick. I tried to learn Malay for an hour. I can now tell people I'm agnostic and that I'm happy to watch but I'd rather not participate. no one really speaks English at Jakarta airport. Point and shoot, you know what I mean? I pretended that my trolley was a pram and that I was rocking my bag to sleep. I tried to remember the lyrics to Stairway to Heaven. I couldn't remember the verse after Jimmy Page's solo. I couldn't even listen to it to double check cos my ipod was dead. I thought about life, living, death and dying. I though about getting a tattoo in KL but didn't know what to get. I thought about inventing a time machine with the airport trolley, my torch, some industrial rubber bands and some cough syrup. I wondered what would happen if 6 turned out to be 9. I thought about racing around Magnetic island at dusk, listening to cover versions of Beat It. I thought about getting into a taxi and explaining where I didn't want to go in my own made up version of sign language. I thought about the viability of being a high class escort to supplement the menial wages of a social worker. I stole a pen from a restaurant in the hope that one day I could pass it on to someone who needs it more than I do. I wished there was a drum kit outside so I could figure out the drum riff at the begininng of Little Wing. I also wished there was a 1962 Strat in antique white and a vintage Marshall tube to figure out the guitar parts cos I don't think they'd be too difficult if I practiced a lot. I wondered if the other members ofThe Portuguese Men of War would be willing to cover it for a mellow breakdown in the middle of our set.
I made friends with a security guard, flitting between English and my awful pidgin Malay, and he let me into the airline office that he was guarding. I wondered if he knew anything about the music industry and whether he'd like to handle promotion of the band in Indonesia. He had had 5 children but 2 of them died. I realised that I had split my G Star khakis at the crotch which wasn't a good look. I decided that I would cut off the legs and they would become my 'I don't care, I'm a pirate' pants. I could buy a sewing kit and cover the rip with an eyepatch fashioned from the excess material. I'd get some industrial safety pins and clip them to the pockets to accesorise them and maybe etch in some sort of pirate logo.
The security guard brought in 2 of his friends who were super cool. We conversed using my Malay phrasebook. They called me Batman. The original security guard invited me to his house for Rendang. What a guy. They bought me some awesome coffee that I will probably never come across again. They told me it would give me 'strength'...
The bathrooms at the airport were its saving grace. At 2.15 am I went to refresh myself. I brushed my teeth thoroughly. I have been mixing and matching my dermalogica toner with Biotherm cleanser and moisturiser. I will write to Biotherm and ask them if I can be in their next ad campaign. Its doing wonders for my skin although I'm tempted to try out their Aqua range. Its twice the price of the standard range but considered by many to be the best moisturiser on the market. I'd quite like to play a part in running mankind.com or even opening a mens salon. I think I'd enjoy that. or a personal shopper in Harvey Nic's. Its funny saying that cos for the past 9 months I have looked like a tramp. Along with my haircut schedule, I haven't quite pinpointed what I'm going to wear when I get home. I'll perhaps stick with a winter take on pirate and then maybe switch to English dandy. I'm considering getting Edwin Saw on the case when I get back to KL. Sandi said he was a magician. Then again, doing anything to her hair would have been an improvement. Sorry.
I would love a big plate of Nasi Lemak, a roti telur with some dhal, some ho fun, a few curry puffs, a bowl of wantan mee soup and a huge iced milo. I wish I was flying back from KL or Singapore. They could jut roll me onto the plane.
Before the plane took off for Bali, the senior flight attendant said over the tannoy 'Ladies and Gentlemen, before we begin our journey, let us pray together and ask God for a safe and pleasant flight'. I though maybe he had some inside knowledge, knowing that the plane was going to be hijacked. I nodded off. I'm still alive.
*****
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