Saturday
Seven Stars
Scale it back
Nothing can steal this treasure from us, babe
I’m still in love– now
Fighting the suns
Take chances and come closer to me babe
I’m fallin’ out – now
I wanted this way too much, all year I’d gone without, put things aside just to save a few bucks, and pinning all of my happiness to this one week of joy.
To give you a baseline to how I was feeling try not jerking off for an entire year and the feeling is ball park. So needless to say my expectations were pretty high in the wank dept, in my mind everything had to be just right, I’d planned what I could down to fine details, rose petals falling from the ceiling in my afterglow ejaculation and in my itinerary I even managed to leave enough wiggle room for unexpected discoveries. Like the hope of being blown by a Malaysian national while receiving a massage, hmmm. Even still, I was wound up pretty tight, not ready to let go just yet.
When Dad picked me up for the airport that Saturday afternoon, he could spot my mood a mile away, I carry the same look as he does when I’m churning things over in my mind. Which coincidently is the same look of frustration when it’s been more than three days since my last bat.
Dad tip toed around the subject a bit before easing into it, “What’s wrong sport?”
I told him about how much I’d put into the planning of this trip and how all year long I thought of nothing else. I also told him about how the prospect of coming back to my job, which gives me untold amounts of anxiety, was doing my head in. The feeling of being fucking worthless in my current role had reached critical mass and I needed to have hit the reset button a long time ago.
Dad was reassuring, he said, “Forget work, just have fun, do whatever it takes to forget it while you’re over there and just try and be as happy as you can...it’s really all that matters”
We leave my place early to drive to the airport, and as such there was plenty of time to talk about real life stuff, the important issues, a last minute head check. I sat there in the 4WD with my carry-on bag across my lap, I’d packed everything into a carry-on bag I’d bought from Rush Faster, a crushable North Face shoulder bag. I can’t believe how much I stuffed into it. But this was it. This was all I was taking with me, I had decided to buy whatever I needed while I was over there.
Dad tells me that he’s proud of me for sticking it out this year and that it’s time to enjoy life, to leave this life behind you for a while and to just relax, you deserve it.
And I want to believe him, I’m hearing what he’ saying except nothing registers.
Anyway, in no time at all Dad is wheeling the car around to the departure gates and this is it. I get out and so does Dad. I sling my bag to my shoulder and give Dad a hug my and say goodbye. I’m not sure why but at the time I felt as though I wasn’t coming back. He says, “Have fun” straining the words like it’s an instruction, but I know what he really means is – “Gee, I hope he gets a root”.
I head in to the check in queues and after a long zig zag through tapered mazes I’m hoping that check in is going to be easy, but wait there’s a tribe of Poms, probably three generations by my count, two grown up kids with kids of their own and a grand father figure in the middle who’s not even 30. They’re making themselves known, loud, ignorant twats. I wonder did they get the TV show Eight is Enough, it’s like they saw that and ran with it. “Ooh lookit us we’re about to go on an aeroplane”. Fucking hell. I hope i’m seated nowhere near those idiots.
Then it’s my turn to check in and I get this pimple faced ginga, I get a vibe from this guy like I should be worried, not coz he’s a gin but becoz it looks as though he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing.
He wanders over to his mate who thankfully straightens him out, though I’m pretty sure his mate thinks he’s an wanker too, and soon after a quick check of my Web Jet itinerary he’s issued me a ticket and thankfully i’m on my way.
After dodging that bullet the next stop is the duty free store. I step inside and i’m magnetised towards the alcohol. I ho hum over the choice of Vodka or a single malted scotch but decide on a drink I think i’ll be able to consume inside of a week. I end up buying a bottle of Canadian Club, 1 litre for $29, cheap as fuck. Then I step and head over to the currency exchange, I sort $150 AUD for Ringgit and the conversion is the shitest rate. I get pissy at the chick doing the conversion and she hardly gives a fuck, she’s got a smirk fixed at the corner of her yap even while explaining the situation that destroys any sincerity. Fuck it, what can you do?
Next, I slide on over to Red Rooster, Why? I have no fucking idea. Is it because I fear may never eat Aussie fast food again? I munch on a bit of golden bird and fries while scanning the entrance to customs and eye spy the same English family abroad with their loads of kids, loads of suitcases and wonder is that a typical sighting in every airport and then mouth the word “Bingo”.
I go into customs and this time make the effort to fill out the customs declaration card prior to queuing up to the counter. 10 people up from me is a young Indian couple and their baby who is in her daddy’s arms is screaming at the top of her lungs. It’s annoying as hell but something sinister inside me smiles when I see a customs officer approaching the family, I’m thinking, “oh joy this is gonna be good” but then screaming baby girl and family get boosted to front of the line and the guy next to me goes, “that’s it folks, that’s all ya have to do”, those within ear shot have a private giggle, smug fucks. I linger on, though I’ve only gone half way around then I spot this silver headed guy walking towards me and something in my ball sack goes cold coz he’s a dead ringer for this cunt I used to worked for, but when he gets closer I find out that he’s the middle eastern equivalent for my old boss with a porno moustache. I recoil a little but soon after our casual exchange I’m certain that we already don’t like each other.
We get through customs easy enough and then I browse the duty free store upstairs and collect my bottle of Canadian Club the downstairs store has sent up here for me to collect. I check out the Rip Curl store and the Dymocks book store and then head towards my gate, find a seat, pop my ear buds from my phone in and then dial up some beats by Syd The Kid, I play the track Flashlight and hit repeat when it’s done. Time skips by and soon we’re boarding and i’m finding my seat.
It’s row 40, window seat, all the way up the back. Hey well at least no one will be kicking my seat when we’re in flight and maybe i’ll have both seats to myself, but no. This English guy comes to sit next to me and the first thing he says is, “Oh fuck”, brilliant. He see’s me tucked into the corner seat and after the warmest of first impressions he collapses into the isle seat beside me.
This old bugger stinks of rubbing ointments and gin, he smells sweaty and unbathed which I hear is typical of the Poms and his clothes smell like they’ve been bought from a charity thrift store. Joy.
After takeoff we’re into sunset and dinner is being sorted for first class and way back here I know we’ll be last to be served so I prepare my flight routine downers. I ask for a beer and am handed a Carlsberg, I toss back a valium and make the special effort to offer the guy next to me a valium, he smiles at my gesture and politely says No. So I say, “fuck it” and down two more.
Dinner eventually finds it way to my row and I smile with delight as I tuck into the dinner hobby kit they’ve prepared for us, I eat the best bits and waste food while playing with the rest.
After the trays are removed I chill the fuck out, electing to play with the entertainment remote control. I try a few films but don’t get into any of them, plus I don’t want to watch Inception again.
I watch two episodes of The Simpsons that I’ve never seen and then switch to the jukebox. I listen to Machine Dreams by Little Dragon, an LP by Bag Raiders and then catch Groove Armada’s 2010 release – Black Light, I like it coz it reminds me of UNKLE war stories and it’s been a while since I checked out Groove Armada and like where they’re at.
I’m stoned for a good 2.5 hrs and the rest of the flight is snoozing and spacing out. I get off the flight at 9.45pm but the time spent travelling to customs is huge, I ride a monorail train to the main terminal and then head off towards customs, get lost, get right, then I’m in the line with the foreigners line waiting to get stamped, they have these weird finger scanners, scans both index fingers, weird shit.
When i make it all the way through customs i come out the main arrivals gate and there’s Lively and Jeff waiting for me. The first thing Jeff says to me is, “Fuck you’ve lost some weight”. Awesome.
We go outside to find a cab and this young Indian goes auto rip off mode on us and haggles for us to take a cab ride for 200RM and then proceeds to tells us that his car is downstairs, suss much?
He tells us to go inside and check fares and to check that against what is the pre paid amount. So I go back the way I came in and a trio of beret wearing guards who begin to tell me i can’t go back in but I am insistent that I need to get a prepaid taxi voucher and the youngest of the guards says I can go, he’s cool.
I get a voucher for a premium cab, it’s 100RM, basically fuck all. I come back out, grab Lively and Jeff and then head towards the taxi rank out at gate five. The guy running the rank gets us a Proton Saloon, it’s reminds me of a Camry but this one comes with a leather interior followed by the faint odour of clove cigarettes and new car smell. Lively and Jeff climb in the back and I’m up front.
The cab driver is young, but he turns out to be the business. He drives fast for us and gets into our humour, we egg him on and he does 130km in a 90km zone, awesome. Jeff make jokes about scooter riders, he laughs, he gets it, Jeff probes a little further and then the driver admits he’s also a scooter rider. Jeff keeps egging him on to thrash the fuck out of the car and he does so whenever we’re on a straight bit of road. He points out various road rules to us, he tells us that there’s no such things as demerit points and that if you get caught speeding you simply pay a fine or bribe. Jeff, Live and I can hardly believe it and Jeff tells him, “speed up, we’ll pay your fines”.
Along the way to the hotel he takes the time to point out the new King’s palace that has just opened, it’s like they lopped the top of a mountain and then positioned the palace on top, good engineering that, though to be fair it reminds me of a set from Aladdin.
Since I’ve paid for the cab voucher Jeff gets the tip and then as we come in the front doors with our luggage in tow we run into Nathan who is looking around for a wi-fi spot. I ask him, is it serendipity if my dick is hard? Get a signal off that, and the stars align.
We drop our bags off and come back down and immediately hit the bar. Nathan and I sit up at the bar and drink a couple of rounds of Carlsberg until Jeff and Lively arrive.
We find a corner and then a hostess attends to us, her name is Elis, she’s clumsy but it’s okay, she actually remembers us both from last year. She tells Jeff that she remembers him, but then points at me which leaves me gob smacked. I think it’s cute in the way she remembers us both. Jeff asks about Emma the hostess that looked after us last time and Elis says that she left last January for unknown reasons why.
After 6 or 7 beers we all head across the road to the 7-11 store to grab some supplies that includes Pringles, some Red Bull and other soft drink.
When we head upstairs to our rooms it’s closer to 2:00am, we agree to meet downstairs in the lounge around 10.30am and to take it from there.
I go inside my room and proceed to unpack my carry-on bag. I decide to put everything on coat hangers and then move on to organising my desk area, setting up my tablet on charge and putting my passport and other things into my room safe.
When i’m done I realise that I’m still a bit pissed and decide that in itself should make getting to sleep pretty easy, to enable that I turn on the TV and cycle through the channels until I find Star Movies, which is playing Amelia, a movie starring Hilary Swank. I go to change the channel but realise that at this hour there is very little chance of finding anything better, so for the time being I should be able to withstand Hilary smiling at the camera with her full head of teeth that for some reason makes me think of abused race horses.
Making the best of things I don’t waste opportunity to shake off the jet lag and earn my merit badge of Masturbating in a Foreign country. I fap lazily till eventually I blast liquid silk onto these fresh sheets and shortly thereafter I fall asleep with a smile on my face, splooge pooled around my belly button and pass out to sounds of a panicked Amelia Earhart destined to ditch somewhere in the sea.
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