There is something quite gratifying about being stuck on a plane for a 14-hour flight and it’s not the blockbuster movie marathons or free grog. #whiskeyontherocks
For those 14 hours we get to disconnect ourselves from reality; from Facebook news feeds; from work deadlines; from ‘To Do’ lists. Long haul plane rides are like pit stops from the fast lanes that are our lives.
In the last 12 hours holed up in this god forsaken torture chair, I’ve shared a good chat with my travel bud without even a glance at the clock. I got to finally read that article that I’ve been saving up to read for weeks (more about this in a later post).
I listened to two whole albums* via the airline’s pretty slick entertainment screens without skipping tracks, a bad habit that seems to have surfaced upon my transition from CD to iTunes (R.I.P CD).
I read 100 pages of Lena Dunham’s Not That Kind of Girl laughing out loud regularly at her painfully honest anecdotes (in fact, I owe my frequent use of asterisk notes in this post to her style of writing) **
I chose to watch a Singaporean film called Ilo Ilo*** over my usual choice of classic rom-com or Bridesmaids. The film centers around a family living in Singapore during the 1997 Asian Financial Crisis who hire a Filipino housekeeper to look after the house and their rebellious & alienated young son. Whilst initially harsh towards the outsider, the boy eventually warms up to her like a sister he’s never had (my eyes may or may not have welled up at the end of this film).
And finally, I have the luxury of being disconnected from reality to be able to write about having the luxury of being disconnected from reality – on two unused motion sickness bags, no less.
14 hours and two throw-up bags later…
…and we’re back in the fast lane. Hello San Francisco.
x Grandma AL
In The Lonely Hour, Sam Smith – 8/10. Smith is the man version of Adele. I’m Not The Only One is such a damn good tune – so full of vulnerability and pain.
**My favourite bit so far – on shooting love scenes:
Professional actors always give canned answers like “It’s just a job, it’s so mechanical or “He was so fun to work with, he felt like my brother,” but since no one has ever accused me of being professional, or of being an actor – I will be honest.
It’s fucking weird. Yes, it’s just a job, but most people’s jobs don’t consist of slamming your vagina against the flaccid, nylon-wrapped penis of a guy wearing massive amounts of foundation to conceal his assne. I’ve suffered humiliations such as kneeing my scene partner in the balls, realizing under the bright studio lights that there is a thick black hair growing out of my nipple, and finding a lubricated prop condom stuck between my butt cheeks seven hours after arriving home.
*** What I found most interesting about this film is the natural way it captures the impact of social and economic pressures on family dynamics during such a tenuous time. It also gives an insight into the increasingly complex world of the ‘Asian housekeeper’, I often related to the situations that were portrayed.