Hello from Austin, Texas!

Hour 14: 2nd leg of journey from Tokyo to Minneapolis. 3.5 hours since I boarded this eleven-hour flight.

I’m actually surprised I haven’t gotten close to slitting my wrists yet, nor have I popped a sleeping pill, considering that it’s been more than twelve hours since I left home for the airport at wee hours of the morning. I was very lucky to have had a stretch of four seats to myself on the Singapore-Tokyo leg of the journey: managed to catch The Time Traveller’s Wife [and was left sobbing for half an hour after the movie ended] and caught a couple of hours of much-needed sleep.

Which means to say I’m now wide awake. The meal service [chicken and vegetables in curry with rice and chocolate cake that tasted like a piece of dry sponge you use to wash the dishes] just ended, and there is no personal in-flight entertainment screen. All there is is one old school mother of a screen that is playing a Z-rated movie from the 80s. Thanks Delta. I fork out $2,400.00 and travel across the world only to sit in the oldest plane that is still allowed to make cross-Atlantic flights. God, I miss Singapore Airlines.

Hour 15: 2nd leg of journey from Tokyo to Minneapolis. 4 hours since I boarded this eleven-hour flight.

I’ve been asked quite a few times why I decided to make this trip – and why so long. In my sleeplessness, I found myself realising that I am running away. I am running away from a reality so familiar and yet, a reality I detest and the more time I spend in this said-reality, the more I become self-loathing. I am in an impermeable membrane that holds an abyss, and all I do is fall deeper and deeper into oblivion and routine that I have lost myself. Call it escapism if you must, but I am out to find something I desperately need to ground myself to. I don’t know what it is, or where I can find it, but I need to find it soon. At least I’m rocking out with my [imaginary] cock out while I’m doing that, no? ;o)

Hour 15: 2nd leg of journey from Tokyo to Minneapolis. 4.5 hours since I boarded this eleven-hour flight.

Can you tell I’m bored off my tits? Oh yes I am. I really really detest flying. Like, my dislike for flying is up there with Crocs, Asian girls who insist on wearing coloured contact lenses and motherfuckers who spit in public. Considering the fact that I love traveling, my dislike for flying is appalling. I’ll bullet point the list for you, since I do literally have all the time in the world, even though it might be from 370,000 ft in the skies.

  • Let’s start with how long it takes to get from one place to another – seriously, patience is a virtue I don’t need, but damn, I wish I had my mother’s patience whenever I flew.
  • Planes like the one I’m in. PHASE OUT THESE PLANES AND SELL THEM TO GARUDA! Any journey more than five hours need personal in-flight entertainment.
  • While we’re on the subject of planes, let’s mention leg room. I am 5’8 and not a runt. Neither are most of your passengers.
  • Screaming children. I love children, and a few of my good friends have young children, but you’re not breaking laws if you slip your child a little sleep-inducing cough syrup right? …Right?
  • Airplane bathrooms: how people have had sex in these bathrooms is mind-blowing – and not in a good way. Airplane bathrooms are always the filthiest bathrooms I’ve had the displeasure of stepping in, and I have slummed it out in the third worlds of Asia. Why don’t you keep it in your pants for a couple more hours and have sex in the airport bathrooms?

I do like airports though. What is it about airports that bring hot people together? It might also be due to blurred vision after hours of sleeplessness combined with poor judgement and desperate attempt to connect with another human being on solo legs of trips that make one lose all her standards and declare that every other man above 6” is hot. I kid. Maybe not every other one, maybe one in three.

Hour 16: 2nd leg of journey from Tokyo to Minneapolis. 5 hours since I boarded this eleven-hour flight.

Confession: I keep my phone in the seat pocket whenever I fly. While I’m not freaked out about flying, I do think that in the case the plane crashes, or some sort of terrorist attack happens, I’d like to make a last phone call to my mum. You know, just to tell her I love her, and I’m sorry for all the drama she has had to put up with, and to tell her that she’s the best mum in the world.

That’s it. I’m popping a sleeping pill now. See you in Minneapolis. I hope.

Hour 25: In Minneapolis Airport

Motherfucking airport security interrogated me for a full half an hour, looked through all my bags and finally let me off. Don't worry, I'm not going to stay in your damned country!

It's snowing, and it's -9 degress Celsius. But I'm going to sit in a corner and sleep and hope I don't miss my flight.