I’m hanging out at Singapore’s number one visitor attraction. The airport. Last time we were here I ruminated on why it was the number one visitor attraction and came to the conclusion it was because Sing Sing sucks so hard everyone’s rushing to Changi to catch the first flight out. Either there or to the lion enclosure at the number two visitor attraction – the zoo.
I’m here for 8 hours. On my own. With an overtired child who won’t walk and who has taken to crawling along the travelators. At one point she refused to budge from her prostrate position spreadeagled on the carpet tiles. Would have been ok but we were at the head of the security line. Even a man with a big gun couldn’t get her off the floor. She wouldn’t stop screaming even when his friend with a bigger gun joined in and the queue behind started tutting.
There would be shame but shame and I long ago parted company. Sometime in India I think it was. Or perhaps before then. I forget.
Anyway now she lies prostrate before Spongebob squarepants where I have deposited her. Japanese tourists keep stopping to pap her – I’ve given up trying to stop them but maybe I should charge them. Because here I am surrounded by the kind of shops that make you want to lick the displays and writhe naked on the counter tops before scaling the pyramids of Absolut bottles. And I can do no more than stand before them, longingly, achingly. Until Alula screams at me to get moving. Because the ATM still says NO.
I am starting to hate the ATM machine.
Being here is like standing before a naked and willing Askars and not being able to move or nod yes please. It’s like being dead and watching everyone get drunk and high at my own wake.
However, being a resiliant and resourceful kind of girl I have tried to see what kicks I can get for free. Apparently economising is in vogue (urgh). Here is my list of free things to do at Changi. (in case you ever happen to be at Changi with 8 hours to spare and find the ATM is no longer your friend).
1. Free internet
2. Free massage chairs
3. Free perusal of Grazia magazine
4. Free perfume squirts (Lula and I now smell respectively of eau de Barbie and a brothel)
5. Free SKII slatherings of $389 moisturiser, liberally applied six times. Do I want to buy that? Er, no lady. Why would I want to buy it when I can slather it on for free and not have to worry about remortgaging to buy another jar? Dur.
6. Free Elizabeth Arden 8 hour cream (see above)
7. Free lesson in gun control / toddler control from security.
8. Free Fox’s Glacier mints stolen from immigration
9. Free pen also stolen from immigration (take that Singapore – what you gonna do? Jail me for ten years?)
Oh who am I kidding? It sucks. Free stuff doesn’t get you high. There’s a mac store just ten metres away and gleaming things called Mac Book Pros are calling to me like Sirens and the best bit is I have no idea what $1691 means in English. Could be twelve quid. Could be five. But I must own one. I MUST.
ou est le husband and his plastic?