Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Scattered Notes

Sure it still has meaning. And consequences, whatsoever.

I shook it off. Start rummaging the thin-colored slide show of what had happened in the past, skipping some high school ones, ignoring the university ones until I stumbled upon the undeniable memory where, at that time, I had decided I would take it all in and keep it that way, secured them all in past perfect form, all in rigid colors of decisiveness.

'Next one, please,' shouted the counter staff, one hand pointed out to the high ceiling in my direction, adjusted his glasses and soon sunk himself behind the counter desk, now what can be seen is only the flourishing black threads in his temple.

He took a second or two to study my look, 'Where's your destination, sir?' he asked me, put on his we-serve-you-cordially smile and produced a nice busy noise on the keyboard. Clickk clickkk clickkk... It was just a tiny loud chime seeped into the big airy airport, soon trapped in the hysterical business of another human beings, total strangers with accents and languages. I looked around to the familiar scene, smiled a bit since I was aware I might've been showing off my exhausting expression.

He literally took the travel itinerary paper with both of his hands and lifted it up to his nostrils. Made the second attempt.

'smell so good!'

I smiled at him.

I didn't really want to head back to Bali yet I knew it would not be that pleasant for my friends to have me for longer stay and adjust their daily agendas to keep me company.

I thanked the Malay man and surrendered to the darkening evening and silently listened to my growling stomach. It was after nine pm and twenty five minutes before the boarding.  Wish I could grab a sandwich  from the Subway.

I cleared my throat as I walked approaching the custom desk in Ngurah Raih airport, what I wanted was a quick shower and cold drink water. And no talk.

The custom dude looked at me and the sick orange paper, read out loud his dumbass question as if the dates I wrote on that small paper were written in Greek. I gave him nods and yesses and another nods and  a story I had to make up to screw up his corrupted head proceed the exit door.

'I had to visit my hospitalized friend. And yes, Singaporean?' and said to myself that if he would slip out more what-the-fuck questions, I will take a photo of him with my mobile and post it on the Craiglist's hookup page.

I picked my small bag and looked at him in the eye, 'God, he can check my bag and ask what is my favorite color. Just make it quick!!'  Maybe it showed on my face, 'Okay, off you go,' he said, handed out my passport.

Sitting in the car, tried to keep a good company to the accountant from the company while fought my sleepiness and continuous yawn, I said to myself, 'I need a boyfriend. This is not fun.'

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