I heart Changi Airport

I think you kinda figure out you're weird when you enjoy travelling the length of the island, small as it is, to eat fried chicken. It's not just popeyes though, I like many things about hanging about both terminals: the cafes, the refreshing sound of many different tongues and, of course, popeyes. They all make the airport one of my favourite places to go on a weekend when we both don't feel up to mixing with the maddening crowd.

You feel free. Free like you can jet off to some exotic island in the Carribean or join the world cup winners in Milan. Free like you can throw a dart at a map and disappear without worrying anybody. Free like that. The moment often passes, but sometimes I see myself at a time where I'll jet off with the missus every year for that short break where we don't have to queue everywhere, betting outlets will offer something more tempting than 2.20 for an Italian win and dry wit is accepted rather than interpreted as an attempt at dethroning the government.

Which is why it infuriates me to take the sky train between terminals. There's no reason for me to take the damn train, really. Popeyes is at T1, so is the deli that stocks honey-mustard-onion pretzels. But I take it every time anyway. Just to see if Singaporeans change over time. If, given time, they will learn to allow passengers to get off the train before rushing into the half-full carriage.

I. Don't. Understand. It.

It travels for the better part of 200m, taking a grand total of what, 30 seconds? Yet we are gripped by the relentless desire to be rude and devoid of all social graces on the sky train. Bah. Which is why I want to go overseas whenever I can.

Oh well, at least while we're here we can enjoy this...

Popeyes rocks my socks

Just HAD to post this picture, haha, nostalgic snack

Peace.