Air travel does strange things to you. I watched The Expendables 2, which is terrible, but I was surprised by this, even though I've already watched The Expendables. It seems that at 30,000 feet, large parts of the plot evaporate into nothingness. I slept a bit, read a good book and half of a terrible, terrible attempt to write Cthulhu-noir, and dozed a little. I was hoping to do some work, but the battery on my laptop was flat and it appears I've packed my charger in my hold baggage, so I've been less than productive on this flight. I doubt I'd have got that much done, crammed into such a small space.
At the airport I bought vast amounts of gum. This, combined with unfeasibly large amounts of shredded wheat that I'll be taking back into Singapore, makes me a nervous flyer. Still, only a few hours left now. If only I could rid myself of the taste of stale beer that is glued tight to my lips after last night's carry-on, I'd be able to relax. Water doesn't wipe it out, nor does chewing gum, aspirin or maple-glazed doughnuts. Perhaps Singapore will fix me.
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