So due to a minor technical setback involving 24 hour time and basic reading comprehension, I arrived at the airport for my flight to Canada only 168 hours too late. After gruelling through a week of relentless mockery, I was unashamedly proud when I managed to successfully board the plane this time. I set off for Hong Kong next to a very young Japanese girl who decided it was appropriate to immediately fall asleep on my arm with the plane still on the tarmac. Evidently the mother thought this was cute and decided not to wake her. Undeterred, I began writing this entry in order to kill some of the 8+ hours I was going to spend in initial transit. Did you know some planes now have cameras underneath them so you can stare at static in the middle of the sky? I did not. I was also both baffled and pleasantly surprised by Cathay Pacific's selection of "Western Rock" which had Damien Rice, Five Finger Death Punch and about 25 other similarly unrelated albums. I put on some of my own music and started a fun game I invented where I watch the tiny CGI plane crawl across the planet and count down every single kilometre. I did this for several hours, occasionally utilizing my Rain Man-like ability of identifying the post code of every rural town we flew over and patting myself on the back when I got it right. No, ladies, of course I’m not single.
Just when I thought I could not possibly handle any more fun, we arrived in Hong Kong and the little Japanese girl promptly wet herself on the descent. Could be worse, I figured, that could have happened several hours ago. At least this time her mother decided to intervene with various nods and apologies. It’s okay, lady, I’m pretty sure that’s why they give out free blankets. I almost ran through the gates before looking for somewhere to settle for seven hours. Ugh, 7 hours. Who planned this trip? Me. I did. Twice, in fact. Damn though, you can tell HK was settled by the British, because those fuckers know how to queue. They don’t even need signs and rails, it’s something to behold. Hong Kong proved dearer than I remember, with a BBQ pork ramen setting me back about $16 AUD which quite honestly tasted like a Fantastic beef noodle cup with a boiled egg I think was laid sometime last year. Disappointment aside, my phone and tablet were in dire need of power so I set off in search of charge terminals. I found them. But for some unholy reason, they are on islands with no chairs. Who the hell is going to stand next to a table for an hour waiting for his devices to charge? This guy. I mean, the next flight is 11 hours, I might as well get all of my standing out of the way. I have now set myself up in the corner of a café with my tablet and Warcraft III, so I don’t foresee anything interesting happening before I board. Goodbye GMT+8!