The Exodus Pt. 1 (a semi-vain attempt at a travel blog)

I thought I’d try to document my trip (for a change), not that I think I’m all that great of a travel blogger or anything like that. But my airplane movie of choice (Shrek Forever After) is on pause and I’m not quite in the mood to finish my remaining articles for work so I figured, why frikkin’ not, right? I guess there could be worse things to write about. =P

 

So let me start off by saying this: If any of you have siblings who don’t know just what career path to take… who have 20/20 vision, a pleasing personality, a good grasp of the English language, and a minimum height of about 5’4”… and you have any influence on them whatsoever… I suggest y’all “encourage” them to apply for motherfrikkin’ Emirates so they can hook yo ass up to some awesome ass discounted travel prices.

 

On. The. Real.

 

It only dawned on me recently how my little sister has been a flight attendant for a couple of years now and we (her very fortunate relatives) get to avail of her super-slashed off ticket rates. Now I was never much of a traveler nor was it really my “capriccio” to travel around the world and spend crazy money to see the eight wonders or the Eiffel tower or the Sistine Chapel. (I’m just not that kind of person.) But I’m not one to decline a free trip to Singapore or Malaysia or China or anywhere else my job already allows me the opportunity to do on the regular. But for this trip in particular, I thought of actually “doing” on my own (booking my own flights and all. Ugh. The horror and the tedium, haha) not just for the obvious reason that it would be fun and adventurous and I’d get to be with my sister and all that good stuff but because it was preempted by this… need… to finally jump on the reason of simply being able to do so. Because… I CAN. Know what I’m saying? Like… the mindset behind this trip (and to tell you the truth, I was really just down to go anywhere for the mere sake of it) was a.) I was turning 27, b.) I had the money, c.) I was getting married next year (which I think is just stupidly AMAZING), d.) My daughter was finally old enough for me to become my own woman again (and I don’t mean that statement to sound like I abhor or regret my motherly responsibilities but for those who are already moms, I’m sure y’all know exactly what I’m talking about and can empathize), e.) Independence was just something that came very naturally to me… and with all of those things just sort of putting things into perspective, it made me realize that it was important for me to do this. To experience and “fulfill” this. And if you really think about it, I think this is something every person should have the right to do. Not necessarily travel or anything like that, but to simply find something that’ll make you say, “You know, the sand is running out of the hourglass, so I want to look back and say, see, I did that, that was me, I was reckless and I was wild, and I fucking did it.” (Ok I totally got that from Jamie Lee Curtis in True Lies, but y’all get what I mean.)

 

Hence why I am on my way to Dubai and then Thailand then back on home to Manila just in time to celebrate my one year anniversary since I met my fiance. *big smile*

 

….

 

My sister Mika got me an ID 90 ticket to Dubai and back. That means, she got me a ticket that was 90% off. That means, my roundtrip ticket only cost her Php 5,000. Of course, discounted rates make you somewhat of a transpassenger and you have to wait for an available seat first before you can get on the plane.  I thought the waiting was a small price to pay for a chance to fly one of the best airlines in the world at a ridiculously cheap cost. And to actually go to Dubai and hang out with the sister? I’d have camped out by the check-in counter if I had to.

 

At this point, I’m just gonna get to the part when I’m finally leaving for the airport.

 

The night before, I had already decided I would no longer go to work and just go with my fiancé to the condo in Makati where I could just chill til I had to leave and he could go to his office. Since he had a meeting, I was forced to take a cab to the airport by myself. He had promised to see me off… and I hailed a cab. First fucker wanted a straight flag down of 300bucks and I was like hell to the no. But I was afraid of running late so I took the second cab and his offer of 250… and lo and be-frikkin’-hold… AIR SUPPLY WAS ON THE RADIO PLAYING “WITHOUT YOU.” And as my wonderful fiance kissed me goodbye and hurriedly said his last minute love messages and friendly reminders (ie, to not get too drunk, haha), I thought about how crushing it was to leave him behind. This will be the longest we’ve ever been apart (8 days) since we first kissed under the rain during that typhoon and our lives have become a whirlwind of love and plans and babies and Bali trips and co-habitation and wedding expos and all the other stuff happily ever afters are made of ever since. And frikkin’ air supply just made the whole thing absolutely… poetic. Like if it weren’t so cliché, I’d think it was funny. And as the cab drove off, All Out of Love came on… and I realized it was a frikkin’ air supply CD.

 

I took that as an awesome sign.

 

So I get to Terminal 1 looking all confused (I always manage to look like a sophisticated ditz at the airport) until the guards outtanowhere just called me over and led me to this express lane entrance of sorts where they thought I was a flight attendant. Maybe it was really just an express lane entrance for light travelers… but I like to think I was led there because they thought I was pretty and pretty girls get crazy perks like that. =p

 

I get to the “staff counter” to show my visa and my little sister’s ID and stuff and to wait to be called on. Then the counter lady asked me if I had anything below the knee because my dress was just a little too short for their… taste. I said I had pants (like one pair among a collection of short-ass shorts) so she told me to pay my travel tax, put on some pants, and come back to her in 15. I had no prob with that and I took my obedient, sexy ass on over to the travel tax counter, stood in line, got down, unlocked my hot new fiery red trolley that I had recently purchased, and pulled out a pair of slacks. After I paid, I stood by the counter for a while contemplating whether I should go to the bathroom or just put the pants on right there.

 

I did the latter, of course. Unsurprisingly.

 

Then it was time to wait. Played with the DS a bit. I could feel the tension rising. I mean, it was 5pm and if I didn’t get on the 6:30pm flight, I’d have to wait for the next one at midnight. F*ck that. So I began to condition myself and consider the possibility of just going back to Makati to party a bit then go back before I was too drunk to try my luck again.

 

Obviously, my name was called and now I’m chillin’ here, typing this, while my airline movie remains on pause.

 

I think I’ll go back to it now. My roast chicken is a’coming and I gotta get me a bottle of vodka. =)

 

I’m liking this trip already.