mercy

It’s saturday night. I am at the airport lounge again, waiting to board my first of two flights totally about 30 long hours to get me to my first ever trip to the Southern Hemisphere and the bright, sunshiney land that is Brazil!

I have had quite the day today. It started with a relaxing pedicure in a summery shade called “Hunk of burnin’ love”, both the shade and the name are quite fitting with the theme huh? I took my laptop and worked on a report I had to send. I had to shop for lunch but I had my hands full so I came home with a mocha from the cafe downstairs, dropped my things and ran back down. On the way, a cute boy got into the elevator with me. Floor 29. Same floor. I wonder if he’s the boy next door, that I’ve never met, the one with the dog. I wait and watch.

At this point, I am compelled to mention just how ridiculously shaggy I looked. I had worn baggy jeans (easier for pedicure), havaianas (in the winter, so my toes would dry), I had no make up on (not even moisturiser, come to think of it) and my hair was left pulled back tightly and tied in the bun that I ente
red the shower with. Confidence inducing, right?

Door opens. “Are you going left or right” (I am on the left)
He tells me he’s on the right, he’s just moved into the building. I obviously sing praises for the building immediately. We both opine that the building is so clean and quiet and peaceful. I held my hand out and introduced myself. I ask him where he’s from.
“I am Italian, come on, can’t you tell?”
(Uhhh… no, he looked Brazilian to me and his accent was not thick).
“I am having a party in two weeks, you should come!” I quip.

He says he’s off traveling to Italy for 2 weeks. So am I, I say, but to Brazil. So we say our goodbyes and go into our respective apartments. Cute neighbour. Yayy! (But there’s more)

Within half an hour, my ultra gorgeous dining table was delivered and I stopped short of squeeling with delight. I mean look at it. Don’t you think those stark chrome bars set off the ornate hibiscus chairs beautifully? Yes, that’s what I thought.


Now to find a fabulous vase/centrepiece type thing…

Anyway, I finished the rest of my packing, cleaned the entire apartment (I can’t stand coming home to a dirty, stale apartment), did my laundry and showered and cleaned up. I got dressed up quite quickly for Jin’s birthday do. But first, a pitstop at Wan Chai to pick up cupcakes for the birthday girl. Call and put the cupcakes on hold. Run into elevator.

Run downstairs and who do I see crossing the street with a bag full of groceries? Apparently cute neighbour boy is sick and eating in. I tell him I am off to see my friend, then I am off to the airport. “Oh you are flying tonight?” Duh. “Well, I’ll see you in 2 weeks”, I say. He starts fumbling through his pockets. “I don’t have my mobile on me, but can you take my number and call me please?”
I text him “This is jupiter”
“beautiful name, safe flight jupiter”

Whoa. I love random unforeseen pleasantness like this. I am not an expert but it would appear that he is very single? Does this mean I have a date waiting for me when I am back? Coincidentally the weekend I am back I am throwing a ginormous housewarming party slash farewell party for my…wait for it… italian friend who is leaving the country. Now if that isn’t a happy coincidence, I don’t know what is.

And speaking of dates, I must admit I do have one waiting for me. This guy I met on a social networking website and have been exchanging emails with happens to have a fantastic love for movies of all languages, genres and budgets. So we are going to see a Bollywood movie when I am back. He’s from a teeny tiny small and rich European country that I’d rather not name and apparently speaks hindi and likes sanskrit. I know. I assume stranger things have happened?

Do I find all this exciting? No doubt. Does it provide a healthy distraction from the Eagle problem? You betcha. Although I feel compelled to tell you that he’s been texting me a lot (last night he was drunk and wanted to know if I was out) and today he texted to wish me safe travels. Elvish Pixie has advised me to ignore him and so far the strategy is working. Clearly, I mean, clearly, he likes me more than he’d like to admit.

Boys… can’t live without them, can’t legally shoot them in the face.

Update: My nine hour flight to Doha was utter misery. I had an upset stomach from gorging on miscellaneous foods (including champage), the bed was not 180 degrees flat (what the fuck? 170 degrees is annoying, and you just keep sliding down!), I was hurting, tossing and tumbling all night. Not a wink of sleep. I am hoping to drug myself to sleep for the next leg. See you on the other side, the sunny southern hemispherical side!

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4 thoughts on “mercy

  1. Boys… can't live without them, can't legally shoot them in the face.Somebody should put that up on Thinkexist.com ;-)I am sorry to read about the terrible Doha leg, but here's to a more cheerful and sunshine-y stay in Brazil. Take care.

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