nondescript in blue

Saturday, August 27, 2005
Transportation Security Administration
Notice of Baggage Inspection

'To protect you and your fellow passengers... required by law to inspect all checked baggage... Your bag was among those selected for physical inspection... If the TSA screener was unable to open your bag for inspection because it was locked, the screener may have been forced to break the locks on your bag. TSA sincerely regrets blahblahblah... however TSA is not liable for damage to your lock resulting from this necessary security precaution.'

To paraphrase a certain pointy-eared first officer, I believe it's time for a colourful metaphor... 'cos THEY BROKE MY LOCK AND RIFLED THROUGH MY BELONGINGS! Sure it's they were just doing their jobs and all but it's bloody irritating, when a carefully chosen combination with immensely satisfying symbolic value goes to waste because some immigration officer BROKE THE BLOODY LOCK. Not to mention all that immaculate packing desecrated. Geez. Thankfully, they didn't seem to find anything wrong with my -ahem- DVDs.

A number of air travel phobias actually were realised on my Singapore-Tokyo-Minneapolis-Providence long distance haul. At Changi, after a pleasant last chat with friends and family, we went to the departure area and saw, to my horror, that the gate was closing. Cue panicky rush to gate only to discover the ominous sign was having us on.

Then at Tokyo Narita there was barely any time for airport sightseeing. (All those cute ATMs and dispensing machines that are so Japanese, and the Chinese announcements were easier on the ears than the ones in China. At least the Japanese actually had a human reading them out.) But the worst came at Minneapolis, our port of entry into the US. The trans-Pacific flight I was on had been delayed at Narita, and arrived late at Minneapolis, leaving us hardly any time to make the connecting flight to Providence. Add to this already stressful situation the notorious US Customs and Border Protection process, me momentarily forgetting where I put my I-20, food and money to declare, an overcrowded arrival hall and a horrendously packed baggage carousel, latelatelate baggage, a departure gate on the other side of the unexpectedly vast airport, a Final Boarding Call when we weren't even halfway there yet, and finally, my lousy stamina... it was right out of one of my pre-departure airport nightmares.

And finally, when we got to Providence, our baggage completely failed to turn up. My father was ready to flip. I took a more philosophical approach. After all, since I am in the habit of prophesying air travel doom, perhaps it was only fitting that it should happen to me.

Happily though, Northwest tracked them down and delivered our bags to the hotel later that night. No harm done, except to my /grrrrr/ lock.

Taxi fares here are exorbitant. On the relatively short trip from airport to hotel I was watching the meter climb with horrified fascination. It starts at US$2.50 and goes up with sadistic alacrity. The final tab was around US$30. It was more expensive than dinner at an American beef-and-potatoes restaurant. But everyone here gets around that problem by owning a car, probably. My Singaporean public transport conditioning rebels against the idea of the absolute necessity of car ownership.

And then there are the motorcycles I've never seen outside of road trip movies like Easy Rider, complete with ribbons and who-knows-what. Used cars selling for a few thousand bucks. Reassuringly rusty metal overhead bridges (I'm never going on one of those unless it's absolutely necessary). The Stars-and-Stripes proudly flown atop flag poles all over the place, in sizes larger than your run-of-the-mill national flag. Tap water that smells of chlorine. Zero provision for pedestrians on suburban roads ('cos, I fancy, everyone owns a car, maybe one of those monster pick-ups or SUVs), although drivers do make way for them in a way that's radically different from, oh, China? Though I must say that I miss China's cost of living.

Here in the US, the wallet is stretched even thinner by the accursed culture of generous tipping. I had to remind my dad to let the restaurant keep the change. It would be too Singaporean to insist upon having the 95c back now, wouldn't it?

I should be sleeping by now, but blogging is more important. :) Besides, in the morning I'd have the perfect excuse to sample America's caffeine beverage of choice: coffee. The fouler the better.

[edit] I've got a Flickr album! See it over there, in that bunch of mostly useless and uninteresting links on the right? Yes, that's it. I shan't say anymore lest I become too obvious. :)

Brenda - resolutely dedicated to a life of tedious stability and relentless obsession,
stuck with a mental age that is increasingly failing to keep pace with physical age.
Addicted to methyxanthines, NSAIDs, monosodium glutamate, instant gratification and certain forms of mindless entertainment. Now with a newfound addiction to pretty sweaters, online movie rental and solitary urban hikes in foreign countries.

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