We arrived at the terminal at 9:30PM on our day of departure for a late night eighteen hour nonstop flight to Singapore. We were off to participate in an opening of my work at the FOST Gallery in Singapore. Leslie, my wife was convinced that leaving late at night was a good thing. We would arrive at the airport already tired, and we would simply get on the plane and sleep our way luxuriously to Singapore.
I, on the other hand, was not so sure. I am a morning day person, grumpy and irritable at night, and was not sure how well I would do with the window blinds closed for the whole flight. We were traversing the world flying east in eighteen hours of continual night.
At 11PM sharp we departed on a large Singapore airlines plane, converted to only one luxurious class, and off we went on an adventure, my feet will never forget.
As we began our long travel we relaxed into a four hour dinner, and despite consuming alcohol, drugs, and wishful thinking I found myself unable to sleep but rather staring at the flight-map for eighteen hours as we slowly made our way across Europe, all across Russia, down the edge of Iran, through the entire length of India, down further past Thailand, and lastly finally touching down at the immaculately, clean, precise, and ultramodern airport of Singapore. The third world may be all around you but you are in an oasis of first world modernity.
For eighteen hours I had not blinked once watching the TV map progress ever so slowly in front of me. I was totally transfixed. I knew as well as the pilot our longitude and latitude at every given minute. I was a sitting GPS. Unlike all the intelligent people on the plane, who had slept luxuriously flat on a bed made by stewardesses, I had remained upright, for some unknown reason, for the entire flight. Everyone arrived ready to go. I arrived ready to sleep.
No wonder I arrived in Singapore with spots in my eyes. These little black spots floating across my vision, I am convinced started by staring at the map for eighteen hours.
We were met at the hotel by our most gracious hostesses, who for the duration of our stay made every effort to be our companions and take care of our every wish. Here I was surrounded by two young beautiful gracious Asian women, who took care of me. What could be better for an old man like me. It was pure bliss.
Every day the question would be. Do I need a foot massage, a back massage, a leg massage, a nap, a meal, or anything else that they could do to make our stay pleasant and memorable. The art of hosting and graciousness is definitely not lost in the East. Woe to America.
Every day as the clock struck 2PM it was time for our daily reflexology. We would be ushered into a quiet store, where women would message and rub intimately your toes, your ankles, and oh those aching legs.
For 60 to 90 minutes my legs where caressed as I blissfully napped off into total ecstasy. People often say the stomach is the way to a man’s heart. Who knew it really is through his toes. I was in pure heaven.
After an hour of near orgasm I was ready to be fed, napped, and then ready to take on the Singapore world. I had interviews with magazines, newspapers, and radio stations. I met with wonderful clients, went to the gallery, and prepared for the opening.
We had dinners with friends, clients, prospective clients, and met friends at their homes for dinner. During our stay I traversed from one end of Singapore to the next.
The opening was a success and a few days later we continued our journey east, this time in daylight watching my map every step of the way until finally landing in New York where it all began.
But there is a subplot to this story of traveling so far East that it actually meets the West.
On the road to Singapore I met a man and his wife who had me to dinner. And what a dinner it was. Stay tuned.