Tuesday, 14 March 2006

Er, was that me? (8th March '06)

You know how you're pissed and you remember everything you do, but only actually recall it later wi that "did I really do that? I guess I did" kind of feeling? I'm getting it right now.

I remember coming through Customs and Passport Control, but I'm only now just registering what I did and didn't do at the time. I still don't remember seeing any Duty Free shops in HK, and I'm only know regretting the Missing of the Cigarette Stands. Anyway, I realized tonight that I also started two arguments while jet-lagged and totally fucked up on pure orange juice ("pure as the driven snow that shit then") and roasted peanuts.

The first heated exchange was caused by the fact that, for about the tenth time I've come through HK's lovely "new" airport (built in about 1998, I think), there have been insufficient pens for writing out your Immigration card.

No wait. When I say "insufficient", I mean "a pitiful token number of non-working models, left out to pretend that someone actually gives a fuck and bothers to re-stock the bloody counters". I'm sick and tired of the number of times I've gone to't desk and then finding the chained pen has in fact no nib, or is just plain out of ink. The other pen is obviously missing. So why do I bother? Why do I keep spotting the solitary chained pen and fooling myself into believing that, just for once, they'd bothered to leave out a working one? Why do I continually lie to myself and fall for the same trick each time? Why does my sister have a garden wall that's four feet high?

So I went. The pen didn't work. I decided that if they didn't provide pens, then they obviously didn't really want me to fill int form after all. I queued. When I got to't magic desk and produced my empty form, the conversation went something like this:

Official: You haven't filled in your form.
Me: There are no pens.
Official: There are pens provided on the desk.
Me: I'm sorry, you're right. But they don't work.
Official: Have you tried them all?
Me: I can't be sure ~ how many do you have?
Official: You can't come through until you've filled it in.
Me: Do you have a pen I could borrow?
Official [looking round desk, hoping not to find one]: Here. Would you like to stand to one side while you fill that in?
Me: No, but thank you. [fills in card, deftly ignoring the long line of people waiting for their go] There we are.
Official: Thank you.

She spared it a glance before ripping off top layer and discarding it ~ probably int bin ~ and then simply stamping me in. I know she didn't read it because I wrote "Thump" int surname box and didn't bother to fill in my home address, address in HK or in fact the signature. I guess it were really important after all. But then, she were only doing her job.

The second test of my patience came as I got ont bus. Now, normally the M47 that swings by the airport is a single decker wi a wheelchair or pushchair space near the front. This is obviously for parking said chairs should you need to. It's also a really handy place to stash a large suitcase so as you're not in anyone's way. So of course the M47 bus that picks up this time is a double decker wi no such amenities (shouldn't that illegal? What if I had a wheelchair?), so I squeezed the suitcase between the front of the first row o seats and the plastic partition. And sat across the seat, keeping me feet and knees out o't way.

The first people to get ont bus were about a hundred years old and straight away moaned (in Chinese) that I were wasting a seat. I looked over and asked them where else they'd like me to put me suitcase, seeing as the bus weren't equipped and yet still stopped at the airport. They just apologised and went back to chatting quite happily about some bird they knew who were cleaning them out at Mahjong. I guess that took it out o me then, cos after that I really didn't seem to care. I wanted me bed, and someone else to carry me suitcase up three flights o stairs for me. No such luck.

You know before I said me hair was starting to make me look like a gay Luke Skywalker? It's got worse. I'm all for chucking in for any old hairdresser tomorrow morning, but I'll wait till weekend and go back to't guy in Causeway Bay that did such a grand job last time. And he were half the price of the ex-flatmate's shop. Bargain.

Like today's pic? Thought I'd vary it a bit ~ I need time to trawl fer more Ewan and Max pics, and I've no net connection at the moment, so it'll have to wait. I always like Ken though, he were a proper superhero…

Anyway, that's it, so peach and lube to you all. Take care, and I'll see you all again very soon.


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