I find myself in the curious position of once again drinking takeaway beer at an airport. An unbelievable but wholly predictable series of events has led to me being here at Singapore airport, too early to check in, and without somewhere comfortable to sit and drown my sorrows.
What, no bar? you say, and rightly so.
No bar! Just restaurants, with small beers at big prices.
The helpful lady at Information, when I cried – really cried – about my situation, suggested I go downstairs to the convenience store and buy a takeaway beer.
How could I say no?
But another mishap meant that I went to the wrong floor. A lady in the elevator said to me – where do you want to go? On this floor, she said, you can find the supermarket.
That sounded fine to me, and I thanked her. And the supermarket delivered icy cold beer at deliciously cheap (for Singapore) prices.
So here I am at the charging station, glugging down a beer while writing a blog post.
And you can tell that princess, damn right I am drinking from the bottle.
Tipsy approves.
