In Transit 17/10/2007

After an awful eight hour wait, Qantas gets its plane going. To make up for this discomfort, Qantas hands out a piece of paper apologising for the delay. It seems that this piece of paper is what differentiates a full service like airline Qantas from its budget offshoot Jetstar. Certainly the budget hotel in the red light district of Singpore that Qantas put up its passengers missing the flight to India doesn't. A lady going to India with her baby was so put out by the hotel decided to wait out a full day at the airport rather than stay at this hotel.

Singapore provided instant amusement. coming out of the airport, we narrowly missed having to get into a cab with washing hanging in the boot. G couldn't have tolerated having his luggage share space with somebody else's washing.

G and I stayed at a budget hotel of our own as we hadn't booked the flight between Singapore and India with Qantas. Called Hotel Fragrance Crystal, it was situated in the red-light and very ethnic area of Geylang, with prostitutes and pimps plying their right opposite the hotel in the shelter of a conveniently placed decrepit building.

The hotel smelt of stale smoke and could perhaps be hiring out rooms by the hour. However this is doubtful, given the other patrons of the hotel seemed respectable people, there on business. The rooms were small and shabby, but this being Singapore, everthing worked- air conditioning and hot water. There was a price list tacked on the door pricing the various items in room (TV, DVD Player, bed, pillows, curtains).

G was interested in Singapore for its shopping and was disappointed. After a hugely overpriced breakfast at a cafe in the Mariott Hotel, where a glass of water melon glass cost $Sg10, we went to various shopping malls and discovered that while Singapore does have everything, the prices aren't worth the inconvenience of carting goods back to Australia.

In the afternoon, we made some ticket changes for Glenn at the Emirates office in this overblown building in xxxx. The lobby was massive, encrusted with faux-brass fittings. A huge plaza outside featured large copper tinted statutes of the great men (no women) of history, none of whom had any assoication with Singapore or indeed with each other. It was odd to see Abe Linchon standing next to Plato, Mozart and Beethoven.

We had dinner at a roadside diner, near Tajnong Pagar Road. For the cost of a single water melon juice earlier in the day, G and I had a subtanstial meal with a coke each. I was surprised by G's readiness to eat 2 kinds of lukewarm pork from a road side eatery in tropic Singapore with nothing to kill the bugs but the carbonic acidity of coca cola. The food was excellent. I had two types of tofu, scrambled eggs with rice and lovely young okra that were easily the best I had ever had. I suppose roadside diners can't afford food poisoning and certainly not in Singapore.

Afterwards we walked along Tajong Pagar road looking for some gay clubs mentioned in soom guide book, but found nothing but some reasonable examples of Colonial Architecture and more bridal shops that Singapore even with its large population could possibly need.

We had a Singapore Sling each at a fancy pants club and neither liked the pink cough syrupy concoction on offer.

taking a cab back to our budget hotel, we walked past the pimps on the off chance there would be some guys on offer but alas only women were offered. There seemed to be an awful lot of guys hanging around. The pimp to whore ratio seemed rather high and maybe they ought to consider increasing productivity by having the pimps also pimp themselves. they were cute enough.

Back to airport for a jet airways flight to Delhi.

Lost in Transit

The world is a better place after five generic brand paracetmol tablets washed down with a semi-vintage sparkling wine. Even stuck in a tatty Qantas Business Class lounge, impersonating a run down 4 star hotel lobby, with finger food and good wine, for eight hours sort of becomes bearable. It could be worse. I could be sitting on a hard plastic transit lounge with no alcohol.

Glenn is upset, not by the delay to the flight, but the lack of pervable talent. I told him we should have flown Singapore Airlines. At least the attendants there would have been easy on the eye, even if they were all female.

A**t has gone for soup.............

Easier on the eye, then the woman sitting at 11 O Clock in a green pashmina shawl with huge arse, who unedified us earlier in the day by bending over or the woman to her sitting on her left, with bold black lipstick on her puckered cats arse lips.

Flying has become almost as service-free and unreliable as Melbourne's decrepit public transport system. Our flight that was supposed to leave at 3:30pm, still hasn't left at 10pm. While problems with planes need to be fixed (in this case they are glueing the engines and then blow drying it), the least Qantas, could have is to provide a proper estimate instead of stringing their passengers along with ever sliding ETAS from 5:30pm, to 6:30pm to 7:30pm, to 8:30pm and then 11pm.

The captain came and offered a weak apology and even weaker jokes about hairdryers and glued engines.

G***n has struck a rapport with the Qantas Club Door Bitch, who sympatheised with him over the lack of soup.

What a start to the holiday. I hope we get to India before my brother gets married. I am so pessmissitic, but g***n is keeping my spirits, pointing out all the trolls in the qantas club I could be bedding. I point out to him, that with my wisdom teeth just out, I am in no position to hold seuxal congress (the aching cavities being the reason why I had to abuse the paracetamol).

We have booked a cheap hotel in singapore, but we may not need it, because by the time we get there, it could be the middle of the day.