The Pilot

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to my first newsletter.

I write when inspiration strikes, but these days, it seems to happen only when I am suffering from heart break or celebrating yearly milestones. The batting average this year are two blog posts which imply I lead a very boring, uninspired life. Quite the contrary!

Thanks to James Breakwell of Twitterverse, I may have solved my “writing dilemma” a.k.a. procrastination. James is a comedy writer by profession and he tweets about his witty conversations with his four daughters. If you can’t get enough, which happened to me, you may sign up for his weekly newsletter which comes out every Monday. Go on, check him out. His Twitter handle is @XplodingUnicorn. All I can say is, James has made my Mondays great again!

Thus this idea of my own weekly newsletter. Will I make your Mondays great too? I don’t know because it’s Thursday now and I am way past my deadline. Maybe I should publish every Friday, call it the TGIF newsletter.

My Monday last week started out at 41,000 feet above Russia. I was coming home from a week-long business trip to Oxford and it culminated with a 13-hour direct flight from London to Manila. I never got any sleep, which was not a surprise considering how tense I get when I fly. Many of you know how much I love to travel. It’s my life’s greatest passion. What you probably don’t know is I also suffer from fear of flying. I have tried to overcome it by learning more about flying, almost to the level of its math and physics. I think I can be a pilot now – if YouTube videos count as professional training. Traveling alone means I have to deal with it like it’s nothing. Traveling with friends means at least one of them might end up with bruises or broken bones from me clutching their hands or arms so tight during turbulence.

This flight, though pleasant and smooth, caused me a bit of a panic attack because the flight map suddenly stopped while we were flying over Sweden. This was about two hours from take off. Watching the flight progress helps me relax, and with it stuck, I am helpless. The interesting bit here is the same thing happened seven hours into my flight from Manila to Heathrow. When asked, the flight attendants could not explain it. One of them even said, “No ma’am, it’s working.” She tapped on the monitor and the monitor lit up. I had to explain it was the little airplane on the telly that seemed to be stuck in Sweden when in fact, we were about to land in Manila. This happened on our flag carrier which is disappointing but not quite a surprise. We Filipinos aren’t exactly known for five star airlines nor airports.

I couldn’t sleep so I ended up watching random episodes of The Fresh Prince of Bel Air and Fresh Off the Boat. I can’t watch violent films inflight because it worsens my anxiety. I tried to watch Thor, but I ended up trying to decipher if the noises were from the movie or the plane. So I just stopped.

I tried reading a book I picked up in Kensington Palace, “The Really Useful Guide to Kings and Queens of England”. I got bored with it so I inserted it in the seat pocket in front of me. I was so pleased with that book, I felt like I won my way into the British royal family.

As we were about to land, I stood up to get my purse. When I sat down, the guy seated behind me said, “Hey, your pants are ripped at the back.” I felt the back of my pants and yep! He saw my very cheerful yellow underwear. At least I had underwear. I had my favourite warm kaftan to cover me up so problem solved.

I deplaned, went through our newly automated immigration, collected my luggage and considered eating Jollibee before going home, but decided against it. I wasn’t a balikbayan long-deprived of the taste of home. I did feel like one even if it was just a week. The local food in parts of England I’ve been to is not really something to rave about. The office cafeteria in particular I would recommend avoiding. But you also can’t because the office is in the middle of nowhere and the next source of sustenance is probably in another village. On the week I was there, they served a “Filipino Menu”. I wondered where they got the idea that Filipino food was bland and not greasy? The chef need to watch Anthony Bourdain’s Parts Unknown and try sisig.

I finally decided to go home. While in the car, I realised to my horror, I left my new book on the plane! The royal family and I are not meant to be after all.

I came home to a quiet apartment. And rather dirty because four grown men just spent the weekend here. They’re my father and brothers so I don’t mind. And I don’t have a choice. LOL. I decided to camp out and sleep on my sofa while I stripped my bed of the sheets. One week later, I’m still sleeping on the sofa. People who have been to my house know that my sofa is like a lullaby. I sometimes wonder why I got myself a real bed if I would prefer my sofa over it. I’m not planning on sleeping on my bed anytime soon.

Home sweet dirty home. I did spend the whole Saturday cleaning, to the tune of Stickwitu by the Pussy Cat Dolls. Finally, I recognize my home again. Funny, James Breakwell mentioned Roomba in his newsletter this week. I’ve been thinking of getting one. I’m finally open to living with another, and I choose a robot vacuum cleaner. I think this is easier than finding a quiet, intelligent and knows-how-to-clean husband.

As expected, I was back at work the next day. I have yet to decide which parts of work I should share from now and in the future. Maybe I will stick to the fun and funny. It’s safer that way.

For now, I will miss England. I will miss my favourite London and the perpetual grey skies. I will miss my Heathrow Express adventures and pretending to be Miss Jane Marple in 4.50 Paddington. I will miss the long walks to the Underground and waiting for the train. I will miss taking the long trip to Oxford and taking the bus to Woodstock. I will miss the creaking of the stairs on my way to my room at the 300 year-old Macdonald Bear Hotel. I will miss the vast empty fields of Kidlington which is where the office is. I will miss my quick trip to Kensington Palace where I got lost in space and time imagining a rich history of reign and royalty.

For now, so long and farewell, dear England. I will see you again soon.

I have been asked a lot about travel tips and I hope to be able to share those with you in my next stories.

Cheerio!

CG