Both Maria and I don’t travel well. We both find it to be a rather disturbing experience, although for entirely different reasons. Maria has somewhat of a phobia for flying which I have ignorantly fanned for years with repeated tales of horrific plane crashes and other travel related horror stories which I evilly recount to her just before we leave on long journeys. She also generally tends to be afraid of heights, of water, of open spaces, of closed spaces, of most perilous things and of virtually anything that hasn’t got arm rests on each side and a cushioned chair underneath.

I on the other hand, have been very much of a daredevil all of my life, and am not bothered about any real or perceived danger. I do however find absolutely no enjoyment in spending hours of being pushed around airports, queuing for various boring procedures, being harassed by security personnel, walking for miles through never ending corridors, waiting for ages like an obedient dog, only then to be stuck sitting on my ass for hours on end without any possibility of moving except for stumbling a few meters to the closest toilet and back. In fact I despise the imposed confinement and boredom that traveling invariably imposes.

This particular journey lasted 23 hours from the point of leaving one hotel to the moment of arriving at the other, of which nearly 11 hours was raw flying time alone. Ouch! The Tokyo hotel kicked us out at noon, then we had half an hour taxi ride to the main train station, followed by another half hour wait, then an hour’s train ride to the airport. Due to the distance a taxi to the airport would have cost around €250! So the train will do nicely, thank you very much.

Upon checkin at Tokyo airport there was this angry Arab who kept shouting and snarling at everyone around him in a very nasty terrorist sort of way. We jokingly said, imagine if he was actually on our flight, haha hehe. Much to our horror not only was he on our flight but he was queuing up right in front of us when he actually brought out a homemade electronic ticking device and placed it defiantly on his trolley for everyone to see!! Maria nearly died and I tried consoling her by explaining that if it were really a bomb he wouldn’t have exactly brought it out in the open would he. I mean even suicide bombers have some common sense don’t they! Somehow after telling her that I realized the full absurdity of what I had just said. And looking at his contraption I must admit that it sure as hell looked like a homemade explosive device. Most disconcerting indeed, especially knowing that we were going to spend the next 11 hours stuck in a plane with this mad Arab and his evil looking devices!

Being a very light sleeper at the best of times, I find it totally impossible to ever sleep in a plane. So as expected, being a night flight, in no time whatsoever the 350 odd passengers on board were all fast asleep happily snoring and dreaming, totally oblivious to their surroundings. Every single passenger except me, which is particularly irritating. Just look at the wrapped up bastards fast asleep. I could slap them all hard across their ugly face if only there was somewhere I could then run to… And it’s not like I didn’t try to sleep. Before the flight I purposely indulged in wine, whisky and sake and then even popped a couple of Maria’s anti anxiety pills on top of that, just for added effect. Very naughty you might be thinking, but I swear that I felt absolutely no effect. Nothing except for a strange and lingering erection which came out of nowhere and somehow lasted all the way to the Chinese Thai border before it gradually wore off. Pity we didn’t get to use it, but Maria too was asleep and although she never objects to being woken up for a bit of nooky, her fear of flying would have required foreplay well into India and perhaps even Pakistan, which surely would have alerted the hostesses after a while. Also already being a proud member of that club, it somehow loses much of its appeal and basically without the novelty ends up feeling exactly like what it truly is – having a quickie in a tiny stinking loo.

Luckily we weren’t seated next to mad Mohammed laden with bombs, but right next to us was a very suave individual indeed. Remember when people dressed up very smartly to fly and men actually wore suits for the occasion? Well times have really changed and today wearing comfortable clothes is the name of the game. But from that to wearing a bloody undervest as this peasant did, is perhaps taking comfort just a bit too far. Chalie bil flok ta’ taht lol! So stylish and chic!

After having difficulties deciphering signs in Cyrillic in Russia, then in Japanese in Tokyo, we finally arrive in Dubai where I look up and naturally the signs are in Arabic. Incidentally on our last leg from Dubai to Malta the plane stopped in Cyprus, where we were regaled with signs in Greek. It’s hard to imagine that after some time you can even come to miss an alphabet.

We finally get a taxi to our Dubai hotel and get there at 4:30am local time. We paid the taxi, walk into the hotel and go to reception to check in. Only to find out a few minutes later that the asshole taxi driver brought us to the wrong hotel. There are two Meridien’s in Dubai and we were booked at the other one. So another taxi is called and we try again, just what we were in the mood for after traveling from one side of the world to the other.
We finally crash out on our bed at 5am, tired, spent and rather dizzy. Maria’s head had barely touched the pillow and she was instantly out. But me, do you think that I got any sleep? Now even my jet lag was jet lagged, if you see what I mean. My biological clock just looked me squarely in the eye and bitterly uttered ‘fuck you, you’ve messed me up enough with your constant changes, I’ll sleep when I want and not when you tell me too’. Oh well I suppose I’ll just write this post then until the bitch decides to give me some shuteye…