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I prefer the temperature of the sea to start with a 2, but my seat number on a plane to start with a 1.
And so it begins. Let’s call it the FOT #4, but who’s counting? It began back in Australia when I realised that although I had booked my first flight on Scoot, Singapore Airline’s version of Jetstar (but better), I had at least booked the PLUS option. Up the pointy end of the plane, where, quite frankly, I belong.
I made it through Sydney airport without any Golden Vagina incidents and the first glass of champagne went down a treat. It may have been 10am but you know what they say, it’s 12 o’clock somewhere.
I arrived in Singapore at wine o’clock and headed directly for an adults only hotel on Sentosa Island that looked great on the internet. My taxi driver was the best one ever. On the 30-minute drive, he had organised new jobs for both my sons that included free accommodation. I love this country.
The Outpost Hotel seriously over-delivered. Of course I was upgraded to a sea view room, which was quite magnificent. It even had its own filtered water tap plumbed in.
I was starving and thirsty so the rooftop pool bar called Altitude seemed compulsory. It was a relaxing and relatively tame first night.
Next day and I felt a whole lot of sit-swimming in the 27 degree water in my future. Of course it pissed down with rain. But I waited it out in the Bikini Bar. This place had the best playlist ever going. I was trapped in the 80s for hours.
After hours of sit-swimming and beach-laying, I needed a rest. My room in the Outpost Hotel did not disappoint. In fact by about 5pm, it could have gone either way. Lie in bed with room service and movies or… TBI.
I didn’t want to let you down, all my fans of Tina’s Bar Investigations. So I made an effort. Had a shower, dressed up as much as you can in 1000% humidity. I even did my makeup. (No point with hair. I had to embrace the frizz.)
I did my research and found what looked to be a very cool wine bar very close by. It even had stools at the bar, according to the Google Reviews. At 5.30 I wandered down.
Nothing. Shut up tighter than a Presbyterian’s wallet. It was like a ghost town.
My first reaction was extreme disappointment. I was quite thirsty by this time. Then angry. I did my makeup. Then I remembered the travel mindset but it was difficult to focus because I was hot and sweaty again due to the 1000% humidity.
There was only one option. The Rooftop Pool Bar again, 1 minute’s walk from my room.
I walked up there planning to do the same thing as the previous night. Grab a towel, sit down at a high top table, maybe read my book.
And this is why we should never make plans. How could my ideas be better than the Universe’s?
I walked over to get towels and some people asked me: “Is the Budgie Smuggler with you?”
My reply: “He must be Australian. I apologise on behalf of my country.”
Their reply: “Please sit down and drink Moet with us.” (This may be paraphrasing a little but it would have been churlish to say no.)
My new friends Christina, her daughter Montana and fiancé Dominic live in Singapore. That Montana was a real disappointment. She only spoke 5 languages. I feel that she could try harder. They had actual jobs so they left at about 8pm. This meant I had to make more new friends.
There was Jeff, from both Singapore and New Zealand. He and I were competing for the same blokes. I decided to stay friends with him even though at 60 he looked much younger than me. I also met Carolyn, an inspirational lady who welcomed me into her friend group. And then there was Monita. Someone who saw inside my soul from the minute she laid eyes on me.
These new friendships formed to the soundtrack of music from DJ Jorge, a very cool guy from Portugal.
True to form I had to be kicked out, only because it was closing time and DJ Jorge had another gig to go to.
I woke up the next morning with a hangover and more plans that were abandoned due to rain. I promise to make no further plans on this trip. Except for when I see Audra in America because she needs plans.
I write this to you from Row 1 on my flight to London on Vietnam Airlines. Truly a lovely experience, where once again you get free champagne.
I will leave out the bit where I found myself in a dodgy airport hotel in Ho Chi Minh City at 11pm with no money and they didn’t take credit cards. Then walking back to the Airport at 5am for the same reason. The only way to describe it was murdery.
Which brings me right back to my point that it is truly a numbers game. Water temperature: 2. Airline Seat: 1. And add to that what I have always known but momentarily forgot: Hotel: 5 (stars).
