Early

My grandmother raised me for most of my toddler life, waay until I reached 6 years old. She used to travel with me to and from my mother's town and hers by train - it was free for me, and she paid less I think. The distance between the two towns is about 300 km, and the train ride used to take about 4 hours (now it takes 6). As any true provincial I guess, we would be at the train station hours (about two hours) before the train arrived. It was not because we didn't have tickets or anything, it was just because I don't know, what if something happens? What if the bus breaks down? Or the train breaks down? Or anything. I guess it was also because the train stopped in that station only for about 5 minutes before it went on its merry way, so maybe they needed 2 hours in advance to prepare.

In later years, when I was about 10 - 11 and my grandmother still had to accompany me (by now she had a pensioner's discount and I had to pay half ticket), this thing would annoy the hell out of me and I would grumble and complain and make fun and what not, but still go. I still remember the skinny figure of my grandfather who would rush us along (2.5 - 3 hours before the scheduled arrival time) "Come on, let's get going, take that bag, come on!!" And then we would reach the station 2.5 hours before and plunk our bags down on the platform - especially when we went when school began in autumn, my grandparents were LOADED with goodies for my mum: preserves, cakes, the occasional dead chicken, cooked food! And my grandfather would glance satisfied at us and then he would start pacing the platform up and down, with his hands behind his back, talking to the other people that were there - waiting for the same train of course. Conversation would range from the subject of wether the train would be on time/late/packed/empty. How many kids did they have in the capital? Yes, it was a struggle to get food to them, but what are you going to do?

Years have passed and now I am there very early everytime I have to travel. This practice of being exhaustively early is driving Marian nuts, but I have never failed to be early. Except when I lost the plane in 2008. From that day onwards, Marian checks my flights everytime because I no longer trust myself to get the dates right. And there you have it, today he didn't check them because he also had to leave for Melbourne.

And here I am, thinking that my flight leaves at 7:10 am on the 15th of May. And I was here at 11:59 pm on the 14th of May. Happy like a dog playing with a rotting corpse, thinking that oh great, I won't sleep tonight and then I will sleep just right on the plane. Am sitting comfortably in coffee bean when suddenly inspiration strikes and I check my ticket. I am officially 28 (TWENTY FUCKING EIGHT) hours early for my flight. My plane leaves at 7:10 am on the 16th of May. I have decided to stay here at least until tomorrow morning if not the whole day tomorrow. Anybody around Changi area can come and have lunch with me, yay! Fuck it!! I am going home, the airport music is killing me. Pfft ...