This is a continuation of the first overseas trip, which you can read here.
I would describe more about the UK and France trip, but it had been months and here we are, my second international trip since COVID-19. The UK/France trip was eventful, but to sum it up, I unwittingly did some dodgy actions. The pharmacist gave me two medicine boxes when I paid for one. I also did not clock in the bus ticket when I boarded (I only showed it to the driver).
Of course, upon realisation days later, I felt bad about it, so I gave away the extra medicine and threw the unusable bus ticket away. It turned out that they gave me a faulty ticket, so all’s well ends well, I suppose.
The UK/France trip was also my first time getting COVID. The irony was that I fraternised with the crowds and was completely safe until the return flight. I gave my original seat to another person so that she could be reunited with her old mother. As luck would have it, I sat next to an obnoxious bugger who took out his mask and coughed all over my cramped space. I constantly glared at him, hoping he would get the hint. He did not. In conclusion, he blessed me with a sore throat and brain fog from hell. Legend has it that I still have the brain fog. But the seven days of quarantine were the only peaceful days I could get in my human-infested life.
I digress, but here I was again, boarding the second international flight to Vietnam this time.
Disinfectant vapour sprayed out from the ceiling of the plane before the flight take-off. I wondered if there should be harmless, calming effects added to the spray so that people with my type of malfunctioning nerves could calm the fuck down in every take-off and landing. As the plane bounced up and down, I sneezed and coughed into my mask, hoping I did not get COVID for the second time.
My lunch added fuel to the fire, as the spicy nasi lemak sizzled down my throat. Two more hours to go, but I was getting restless. With the absence of my book and the lack of visual entertainment, I looked out of the emergency exit, constantly thinking, “With great seats come great responsibility.” Anyone who sat in the emergency exit row was instructed on what to do in case of an emergency.
My phone battery was draining as fast as my body’s, and I often wished that someone would invent an energy transfusion, just like blood. I would meet the requirements of being the first donee. In fact, I volunteer.
Years ago, when I first arrived in Hanoi, there was a heat wave of 40+ degrees. The second trip to Vietnam was at another location and during that time, it was another heat wave. I was counting all my unlucky stars, hoping this time I did not bring the heat wave along. Or worse, the extreme winter, as the place I would go this time was common to snow.
To my dismay, I could not recline the seats because of sitting in the emergency exit row. There were simply no buttons. In place of the buttons, there were decorative, almost flat bumps. There were thirty minutes left to the flight but I was already done for the day. The inner child kept asking if we were there yet.
Fast forward to days later, I DID bring the extreme winter with me. Oh, joy to the world, it fucking snows. I would like to give a shout-out to the pilot for the return flight. The landing was beautiful, and I did not even panic. Too bad I couldn’t remember the pilot’s name even though he announced it twice.
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