The Air Asia flight had it’s nose up on landing. It looked like we were about to do an emergency ascent. Here we go, it’s going to break in half. Isn’t it suppose to have it’s nose down, I asked the Chinese Malaysian captain.

‘We had 15-knot side winds, so I had to make a special maneuver.’

I heartfeltly thanked him. Keep up the good work and make sure those planes don’t come down. The first and last plane to go down was off the coast of Borneo. It stung him.

‘I fly Air Asia more often,’ I say, ‘keep it safe.’

And then to the cute Chinese flight attendant, in her tight-fitting red uniform which showed lots of curves and legs, ‘I filled out a survey for my last flight. They asked me why I chose ten. I said the chicks were hot.’

She giggled.

The male flight attendant giggled too. He was camp as a row of tents. Aren’t they all?  But apparently he wasn’t into fatties who wore black dirty T-shirts that were obviously a size too small. They couldn’t wait to get rid of me. They’d let Borneo sort me out. They had done their bit and wanted no more to do with the talkative customer, who outwardly, looked stone sober.

The Sarawak River looked like a python that had just gorged on a Borneo Rhinoceros. It bloated out and narrowed, then bloated out again.

Just what was going on was anyone’s guess.

I tried to get another stamp back into Indonesia once I checked out of the country on the Pontianak side. The immigration staff looked on at me nervously. They manned the two booths that handled all international passengers.

They weren’t prepared for such demands and it was then that I decided to take the flight.

The guy working the X-ray section tried to deny me taking on an ice coffee and water which I bought inside the terminal at inflated prices.

“Drink there,’ he says, pointing at the seats next to the International lounge.

Saved by the bell.

‘Boarding Mister,’ says the immigration guy, who was wearing a fat ring of Borneo red origin.

I was only trying to say keep up the professional work to the X-ray staff. But he got hostile and almost threatened to check my bags again.

But it was a win for Flashy. I walked towards to the plane with my drinks.

There was no way I was going to bin them or get indigestion by chugging them down.

This was one small victory, but one I was very proud of.

I tell people I’m a travel writer and they don’t believe me.

Cool, hey?


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