Roaming Chuck Taylors

Before we landed in Singapore, I was reminded that we had entered a different time zone, where it is 2 hours ago. This means that I have to wait 4 hours, and not my previously assumed 2 hours, before the connecting flight boards. D'oh!

One of the gardens in Singapore International Airport

The window seat is over-rated. During the many trips overseas I had while I was a child, I was fortunate enough to be given the Window Seat. It seemed to be the most desired seat on the plane.

Again today, I have the seeming fortune to be allocated the Window Seat, and peered through the glass in all manners of a child during take off. There the city was, the river looking milky brown. There was the Suncorp-Metway Stadium, the ICB and yes! The hospital where my work mates are listening to handover right now!

While I suffered nausea in aircraft when I was a child - due to the sickening smell of Air Niugini beef dinners - this is no longer an issue for me. The only time I feel nauseous now is when the plane is standing still. I attribute this to the Pavlovian style response I have to airline deodorizers. Once accustomed to this, however, I am perfectly fine.

Apart from the initial nausea on boarding, there are few issues I have with flying. One of them is the feeling of claustrophobia, being in such a cramped place, flanked by a stranger and a wall. Another problem is with neck stiffness - although the Window Seat in this regard can be helpful. But when you possess the unfortunate combination of a full bladder, meek demeanour and the Window Seat, there is nothing ahead but discomfort or the prospect of climbing over the laps of your neighbors to use the toilet.

Meanwhile, the stewards have handed out peanuts... don't even get me started on how over-rated peanuts are!

I look around at the people here and realize suddenly that we are all going somewhere. Everyone has a boarding pass to someplace else. I wonder where they are going; are they going home, on holidays, are they first time flyers or frequent ones? Which ones are in business class? Everyone here has a story to tell and it disappoints me that I cannot simply read it on their faces.

Everyone has their own way of waiting. The middle-aged man across from me looks down his nose to read the newspaper through his spectacles. He seems relaxed, so I presume he has flown many times before. I'm thankful that his loud teenage son has wandered away and left the rest of us here in our peace.

The girl sitting next to me fidgets with her bags. The zips, the velcro fastenings, and rummages around for her travel documents, checks them, puts them back, then plays with her mobile phone for a while. Now she is holding her passport and boarding pass again. Is she a nervous flyer, or just keen to get to Singapore?

Me, I'm writing frantically, everything I consider worth observing - like the distinct lack of aircraft at the gate still - and my rambling thoughts. I figure it beats eating chocolate for now, and my aimless pacing up and down the store fronts I am afraid looks a bit suspicious. So I regress to the pen and paper, trying to save everything for later - iPod battery, the book I brought, chocolate...

Two pages worth of writing has already saved me 30 minutes of these things so far. For now, yesterday's excitement over this trip has left me.

There is still another 90 minutes before we can board the flight and already, I am sitting in the mostly empty lounge of Gate 82, waiting for the doors to open. You plan to check in early or at least on time; you don't want to be rushed; you want to be organized through this whole vacation... passport, tickets, boarding pass, cash, keys, cards... wait a minute, I'd better check if my passport is still there... yes, there it is, right where I left it half a minute ago.

Once checked in, there is really no point in hanging around upstairs. I might as well go through the check point. There's no one to say goodbye to. All the goodbyes were said yesterday, typed on MySpace or sent in a text message. My brother just wants to go back to bed after he drops me off, and says, "Got everything?" before he zooms off in my car. Bye, Black Betty. Passport, tickets, cash, keys, cards...

Duty Free bores me. I'm not interested in alcohol, perfume or make up... although that's really cheap for Smirnoff... I look at some digital cameras, alarm clocks and stereo headphones and am glad I brought my iPod. I wish, though, that I had put some new songs on there.

I wonder if we get lunch when we board; I don't think so, and I doubt my McDonald's breakfast will sustain me through until dinner, whenever that will be. I spy a chocolate shop and remember Julie's text message; to pack lots of snacks on the plane. I buy a handful of chocolate bars, then feel sick as I imagine myself gorging on nothing but chocolate in Singapore as I wait for my connecting flight to Shanghai. I must remind myself to eat something substantial before the gate opens.

I look at what I've written in 15 mins and wonder what I'll write in three weeks.