Friday, Flyday

From my HKG-BOM flight last night…
Today was the way Friday was supposed to be. I usually end up working harder and longer on Monday and Friday – neither of those are pleasant but it’s how it is.  And if I am taking the Friday evening flight over to someplace then it only makes my workday worse as I scramble to finish random tasks that crop up during the course of the day. Thank God for HKIA’s amazing in-town check that lets me get rid of my large suitcase so I can head to the later much later than I’d have to if I had to check in. I realize this is probably why I rarely took a weekday flight after work when I lived in New York or even Singapore for that matter (well also my life wasn’t so interesting or I didn’t travel as much as I’d have liked to).

Anyway, the day went by smoothly today and by 5 pm I was pretty much done, I was not rushing, cursing or tripping over myself. I checked in even before lunch and remembered to buy deodorant. I did however forget two things – I forgot to take out the trash and I forgot my kindle at home. That means a very bored me in Sri Lanka and a very stinky apartment to come home to after presumably a great trip.

Throughout the week I tried to forget my very brief affaire de couer with gorgeous sportsman. My internet got fixed and so did my front door handle (it had come clean off the door!) on Wednesday and Thursday and I sold my two bar stools as well cause I had no room for them. I also went running 3 days in a row, not because I  like running but because I am madly in love with sun yat sen promenade. It is just so beautiful. Running under the night sky against cool breeze and sea spray, inches away from the violent sea, watching massive ferries go by in the foreground while the furiously lit skyscrapers of Kowloon sparkle in the background has made me smile from ear to ear these past 3 nights. It doesn’t matter what you look like or if you’re singing loudly or if you do crunches on the pavement (which I do, and I have a designated corner for). There’s no light and barely anyone there let alone anyone who knows me. It is fun to run around the circular pavement around the statue, counting how many cities Sun Yat Sen and I have in common – fourteen if you must know. And if none of those were enough to make me smile, the childrens’ play area – deserted at night – has loads of monkey bars that I swing from with legs akimbo. I can even slide from one end to another on one of those constructs and feel like a rather untalented trapeze artist.

I also cooked dinner all three nights – Amtee and ussal maharashtrian style two nights and the third, pasta in a roux and double cream sauce with aged and not-aged gruyere cheese. They were all delicious and my stomach was as happy after my meals as my heart was after my promenade visits.

So I went to the airport feeling pretty calm and nicely dressed in my Bass multicolored oxfords and my extremely quirky jacket with grey jellyfish printed all over it. As always, everything was a breeze but I frowned that there was no lounge near my gate and my gate was fucking far, the kind where you have to take a little airtrain because who wants to walk with a stupid suitcase? I very nearly bumped into the man in front of me with my suitcase. He turned his head, but not at me, and I saw his face.

He was gorgeous sportsman’s dad!

I swear you can’t make this shit up, can you? I gently tiptoed to a stair above so he wouldn’t even mistakenly get a glimpse of me. And walked to the farthest door from him on the airtrain. On the escalator up again, I tried to go last but he ended up behind me. I can only hope that for once my vertical-challenged-ness aided me as I slouched and looked down at the stairs the entire long ride.

Drama – it comes to me even when I try to run away from it.

Oh well, I am on the plane now. Despite having a massive breakfast of scrambled eggs with smoked salmon and a massive lunch of aforementioned pasta with 7000 calorie Elvis Presley style cream sauce, I am looking forward to my supper of rasam, kaalan, cabbage and strangely enough dal makhani. Ah the one true benefit of being Indian.

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