Ayam beg

It looks like it that I have a talent for interior decoration. And, I realised that even if I stay cooped up in the room, my sanity stays intact.

Dubai was f***ing boring!!!!! And it was so hot I didn't even want to leave the comforts of my room. The saddest part was, I was the only Chinese in my set. Sigh. You can imagine how miserable I was lar.

So, I did what I do best - couch potato-ing. The DVDs that I brought were useful. The massive lot of food that I brought over satisfied my stomach.

Because I know that the room has a mini kitchenette, I brought some sotong balls to make spaghetti in tomato sauce. It was delicious! Beggars can't be choosers wei, and the meal did satisfy me, a lot! I even cooked spaghetti carbonara with chicken salami with my other pilot friends. Sorry I forgot to snap a picture. By the time I remembered, all that was left was an empty plate.

Now, let me tell you why I'm so miserable.

First of all, it was so boring there. Secondly, my set is just so blah. I can't find a word to describe them. When they saw me chatting with the captain and the first officer (hereinafter known as 'the pilots') they gave me that look and started whispering amongst themselves. We did a Dubai-Beirut-Dubai shuttle, and in between there was a 5 hour transit. The rest of the crew wanted to stay in the cafeteria to smoke their lungs out. The pilots and I opted to walk around the Beirut airport.

It's like, hello, Beirut was/is a war-torn zone. Don't you want to walk about in that piece of history?

When the three of us got up to walk, again they gave me that look. Sheesh. How narrow can they get, huh?

The flight from KL-Dubai, and Dubai-Beirut-Dubai, and Dubai-Karachi-KL was HELL.

I don't get it. What's it with Indians from India and their love for vahter anyway? And what's it with the geleng-geleng kepala stunt?

It drove me crazy.

The Arabians/Lebanese aren't the most well-behaved people ever. They are rude, and obnoxious and demanding. Their children are brats and they are extremely naughty! I was close to catching them by their hair and telling them to 'ketuk ketampi' 1 million times!!

Like today, for example. The flight was full to the brim. These people stink of everything - B.O., cigars, Hong Kong feet, stinky breath, alcoholic breath - and let's put it this way, I find it impossible to take a deep breathe in the cabin.

There's this super geleng kepala Indian man who repeatedly asked me for whiskey soda. I gave him 4 cups in a row. His eyes were blood shot, and I could see some redness in his face. Can you imagine that? He's quite dark-skinned one wor, and I can see RED! Of course he's quite intoxicated already lar! He was even slurring in his speech. I could smell alcohol in his breath.

"Ma'am, gimme vhiskey vid soda vahter." Geleng geleng.

Then he did what a lot of Indians from India love to do - gave me the most pitiful look ever, while bringing his thumb to his forehead, then geleng geleng the kepala. Aiyoyo at that very point I felt like slapping him!

Then I told him, "Sir, I'm sorry but I think you've had a tad too much to drink. Why not you take a break first, and I will get you your drink in perhaps an hour's time?"

He gave me a blank look. Blink blink. Geleng geleng.

So, that does mean he understood what I said, or he didn't?

Then, raising his thumb to his forehead again, he said, "Please, I vant vhiskey soda." Geleng geleng.

"Sir, ayam telling you, I vill send you the vhiskey vid soda vahter after vand hour. You drink too much, sir. Tek a break, sir. Lahter I vill come, wokay?" There. My impeccable yindian yaccent.

And yes, he understood. He wanted to argue, but I shot him THAT look. He went geleng geleng and said, "Wokay wokay, vand hour you kam bek to me." Geleng geleng.

The whole flight went something like that lar. All those people asking for vahter vahter vahter, with that thumb in the forehead, pitiful sorry-a$$ look.

We also had four Malaysian Chinese men seated in a row. This particular guy, Mr Motormouth, was complaining about my airline and how lousy the inflight amenities were. He then said that a particular Middle East airline was better, and they're cheaper too. I was walking past when he said that, and so I smiled and said, "Yeah sir, I agree with you. Next time you should fly KE Airline instead."

Then he came to my galley to chat me up. He asked for my number. Niamah. Such a huge disrespect of my womankind ok!

"I'm married lar," I said.

"So young married d meh?" he probed.

"Where got young? I 35 oredi lor." I said sarcastically.

"Eh I oso 35 wor, but I nochet marry. Come lar, gimme your lumber."

In my mind I was thinking, "Lumber dun have lar, one tight slap got lar!" But I cannot say that, so I shooed him out of my galley instead.

Now, this is a type of men that I really hate. They think that stewardesses are so easy to hit on. And they think it's a proud thing if they managed to squeeze my number out from me. Dream on man, dream on.

The air is fresher here in Malaysia. I was never more glad to be home. :)