Free as a bird
I'm back home, assuming that home is Singapore. Since it's the apartment I pay for and has most of the really important books I have (like the Peanuts book autographed by an Apollo astronaut) and I don't have to go to bed early to avoid waking my parents (or to avoid being awake when one of them wakes up for the morning), or ducking off the Internet so they stop asking me to see my Yerf archive or avoid other minor embarrassing events, I suppose that is home for now.
The flights were reasonably unremarkable. The extra security scrutiny I got in Hong Kong this time, for a novel touch; my sandals set off the screener. I'll know to take them off next time, which isn't too far from now. Neatly, all the flights got in ahead of time, and the Hong Kong-Singapore leg even started early.
I got a new taxi driver, though. By some quirk of fate the last few trips I made to Singapore, I got the same driver from Changi Airport. It's always fun to be recognized, but after 27 hours of flight (counting stopovers) and going 30 hours without a shower I really don't want to chat much, but getting the same driver several times in a row is something one can't avoid chatting about. So it's sad to see the streak end, but it left me able to nod off in the taxi instead of showing myself a bad conversationalist.
Now, to bed, hopefully to wake up in the morning and think of something insightful to say for butterfluff's memorial service on Spindizzy, tonight by U.S. time zones. I hope I think of something.
Trivia: The ConvAirCar, a 1947 hybrid auto-plane with a detachable car body, flew twice successfully but ran out of fuel and crashed on its third test flight. Source: ``Flashback,'' National Geographic, December 2003.
Currently Reading: Mortal Engines, Stanislaw Lem. (Fourteen fairy tale-like stories starring all manner of robots. Recommended.)