The Phuket Return pt 5 The Airport Debacle

When it comes to traveling with LB, it seems that boarding time is but an empty bracket stated on the boarding pass to make up for our lack of insanely long surnames and absence of chic French middle names. It must be, because we never really seem to give a fuck about it.

If we thought the last trip with Huixx had taught us a lesson about punctuality, then we were definitely gravely mistaken in thinking that we had matured in that last 6 months. We nearly missed the plane then, and we sure as hell would have had this time round, had the flight not been characteristically delayed. Well, from what I hear, Budget Airs have problems keeping to schedules too. I sense a budding relationship already. Maybe frequent flyer miles would be good.

In truth, we were actually punctual for our check in. It was our decision to take the free shuttle service to T2 for Macs that left us stranded and faced with another sprint for the departure gate. Yes, we might very well be one of those idiots that hold up flight departures. I hate us too.

In retrospect, this was nothing and I am about to emphasize, NOTHING compared to the debacle on Sunday night when we had to take the flight back. Phuket has been uniformly successful in dramatizing our departures. I’ll have to credit it this much.

On the last trip, Huixx and Nikki boarded the wrong ferry back from Phi Phi and we nearly missed the flight back after having to tussle with the perpetual rush hour traffic at Phuket town.

This time, a little more matured, a lot more burnt but equally broke, we arranged for the airport transfer to pick us up earlier so that we wouldn’t have to always remember Phuket airport as running though customs.

I didn’t want to leave. I never do when I’m on holidays, so biding our goodbyes and throwing cheeky promises to be back again in two months only served to prolong my reluctance to return to reality. In addition, we also distributed the remainder of our duty free cigarettes to the reception ladies for being such darlings for just short of kicking the door down for morning calls. Personal services, don’t you just love it?

When we finally got to the airport, the check-in counter already had a line and it was moving faster than 100 year old grannies in clutches. The queue served up the familiar faces, most of which we vaguely remembered to be on the same flight over with us. Well logically so, since most holiday-makers out for a quick getaway would scribble a flight itinerary somewhat similar to ours; Thursday night departure, Sunday night return.

The other thing about dual party traveling is that it always helps that one person is more responsible than the other. In our case, I assume that role. The person who sets the alarm, the person who holds the passport, the person who keeps the money etc, except when I start drinking, then of course I have the mind of a 3 year old and LB can no longer trust me to even pee in the right cubicle.

Me: “Fuck man, you gotta learn to be more responsible..”
LB: “What the fuck are you talking about? I planned this trip!”
Me: “Babe, you ONLY bought the tickets. I booked the hotel and arranged for the transfers!”
LB: “BOOKING THE TICKETS IS PLANNING THE ENTIRE TRIP!”

The argument went on until it was our turn to check in, which took forever. Then something felt amiss.. it was taking too long.

We stuck our necks over the counter to see the lady running through a name list of the passengers scheduled for the flight.

She: “I can’t find your name…”
Me: “Try looking under ‘W’..”
She: “No sir, your name isn’t on it..”

She called the supervisor over for assistance and he promptly requested for our flight itinerary print out, of which I have NEVER read prior to this save for a quick glance when LB passed it to me for safe-keeping before we left Sinagpore.

Now surely there can’t be a problem. Surely LB could accomplish the menial task of booking the tickets. Surely he can’t be that stupid….

Supervisor: “Sorry sir, your ticket is for yesterday.”

There was no mistake about it. It was clear, even through his thick Thai accented excuse of an English language. The distinction of it was promptly met with mild protest and denial on my part. My reluctance to believe that I had been victimised by an act of idiocy and my eschewal to face the reality of being stranded at an airport, all crumbled at the explicit prints that were scorning me across the paper,

Departure: Saturday 2 September

Me: “YOU ARE FUCKING KIDDING ME! HOW THE HELL DID YOU BOOK THE WRONG DATE?!”

The reality sank in faster than a porn starlet swallowing a load of cum. We had entirely missed our flight and it was now up to me salvage the situation. We quickly ran to the internet café across the counter, begged the bitch of an attendant to allow us to use the internet for 10mins on account that we had already missed our flight.

Me: “Seriously, you only had one task. And you fucked it up?!”
LB: “How come I book wrongly ah?”
Me: “Maybe cos you are a moron?!”

Well apparently, stupidity IS an airborne disease that will hit you out of nowhere, like chocolate cravings, horniness and necrophilia. LB, on the other was throwing out words like, “fate” and “final destination” as defense for this potential “Screw-Up of the Year”.

I glanced at my watch.

Me: “If we make it back now, we can still hit the clubs.”
LB: “Let’s go!”

I was pissed at having to spend an additional SGD160.00 as compensation for stupidity, but if you know me, you’ll know that I take money very lightly and I can never stay angry at LB. Positively speaking, I was buying an additional night of debauchery and you can’t place a price tag on such nights.

LB: “Fated one lei…”

And perhaps LB was right. I wasn’t prepared to leave. Not when there were things left undone at this paradise we’ve fondly come to embrace as the City of Vice.

Me: “We are going back to the hotel, deny everything that has happened, hit the clubs and get sloshed.”

LB giggled in approval. The last night was going to be wild. And like when we came, the night was going to be engaged upon with the same voracity for madness. We left our continence back at the hotel, surrendered our rationality to alcohol and re-indulged in the sport we love so much,

Dynamite Fishing.