Monthly Archive for March, 2006

The tolerability of long-haul flights is in exact proportion to the expected enjoyment of the final destination. I suppose that is why people fly thousands of miles to see family, attend a wedding, or visit a human dressed in a specific giant mouse costume.

Many factors contribute to making a long flight longer.

It starts innocuously. The person who gets in next to you says, “Hello, I might as well introduce myself since I’m going to sit with you for 11 hours. My name is ****.” You know, at that moment, you are going to be talking and/or listening for many hours. I’m a polite Chinese girl, so I do not believe there is a choice.

Within an hour of taking off, someone throws up in the bathroom. The stench and contents on the floor of the bathroom are unmistakable. A handwritten “Do not use” note is placed on the door. One down, three bathrooms left. And 200 economy passengers remain.

Hours later, another someone (or possibly the same someone) does Number Two. There is a toilet bowl, but obviously that person missed it. Another hastily written note is put up. Two down, two bathrooms left. And 200 economy passengers remain.

Lines to the bathrooms begin to reach epic proportions. It would take 20 gallons of some potent mix of J. Lo, Britney Spears and Jessica Simpson perfumes to mask the smell coming from that 10-sq-ft area.

If there were a chain of events that tested your flying patience, I think I found it.

Finally, we deplaned. As we passed the first-class section on the way out, I made a mental note to win the lottery.

We used to live on 28th St SW in West Seattle, where we drove by the Breath of Life Seventh Day Adventist Church every day. I hadn’t been in a church for many years, but I looked forward to reading their billboard.

Someone had a sense of humor.

There was a new one every other week. And that’s not easy, considering we lived there for a year. They were punny, with the aim, I guess, of attracting new churchgoers. I’m a sucker for punny, but I didn’t show up there.

There is a reason I don’t go to church.

I think it’s called faith.

Faith: as incarnated in suicide bombers, bigoted reality TV, ethnic cleansing and President Bush’s highly successful ability to separate church and state in his policies.

The real world is depressing.

Perhaps religion is an escape for those unable to make sense of it. It sure has been the root of a lot of its pain.

Can you blame me for being skeptical? Especially when I hear of religious leaders who preach their god’s dominance over other gods? Us vs. Them. What kind of faith is that?

Faith is powerful; blind faith can be destructive. Many religions have great messages blighted only by the men who deliver them. Our best hope for moderation is to question these so-called soothsayers.

Question, question, question. And laugh a little! Enjoy your God.

Thy name is Singapore.

I am embarrassed, embarrassed and outraged to read that the Singapore Government “rejected calls to grant maids mandatory rest days, arguing that it would inconvenience families with special needs…”, instead, calling for consumer bodies and maid agencies to create contracts “that makes monthly or weekly rest days a standard industry practice.”

Oh. My. God.

There are so many things so wrong in the sentence above that I don’t know where to start. (And for those wondering what the hell Hello Kitty is doing in this blog, hear me out.)

Are these people aware of the words that are coming out of their mouths?

Not everyone is the ideal employer, and granted, not everyone is an ideal employee either. There are horror stories on both sides. However, we must not forget the vulnerability of migrant workers in any country. That is the purpose of having a law. And god knows Singaporeans are good at following the rules.

I have observed random Singaporeans with their maids, and it’s so not a pretty sight. I have friends proudly proclaim they give their maids one day off a month. ONE DAY OFF A MONTH.

Do these people consider themselves better humans than maids? So they deserve rights and maids don’t? And don’t even start with the argument (I’ve often heard) that maids don’t work the “whole day” and already have time off built into each day because they have “breaks” between chores.

Holy shit.

So everyone I know in Parliament and the Civil Service works the entire eight hours they are expected to each day without emailing friends, running errands, extending their lunch hours and surfing the Internet.

Which brings me to the Hello Kitty point. The Japanese (bless them) built a Hello Kitty robot to do simple chores and this one here is a receptionist. I propose Singaporeans get over their maid dependence and buy this robot. Looks cute, needs no maid levy, no days off and still manages to smile with no lips.

Until Singapore is ready to treat maids as humans, they should stick to non-humans to do their dirty chores.

I’ll even bet the powers-that-be will pass a law to give these pretty robots one change of battery a month, because, as you know, we may not give days off to maids, but we have a reputation to protect: We are a respectable, democratic, hi-tech savvy nation that loves our gadgets. Humans? Bah, humbug!

How do you get a job as a Hallmark card writer?

I used to think it involved a healthy cheesy outlook of life coupled with a high tolerance for words like happy, love and best. You know, along the lines of “You are the best”, “Happy Anniversary” and “Love is like a piece of chocolate…”

How wrong I am. Hallmark has moved with the times. It’s now serving the MTV in-your-face generation that craves a (preferably politically incorrect) quip.

Case in point: I thought I found the perfect get well card for someone today. He loves his chihuahua and he’s recovering from an accident. The front of the card showed a chihuahua sitting on a hospital bed with one of those open-back hospital gowns. It was just way too cute. But when I opened the card, I found the words totally inappropriate.

“I hope your insurance covers more than this. Get well soon!”

Have I become one of those people I used to think were stuffy, old and devoid of a sense of humor? Or did this card cross a line?

Someone, anyone? Please tell me I’m still on the right side of 30 years old.