2004jun03. While I was dodging two-stroke motorcycles in various overcrowded SE Asia cities, Dong Resin came back and scored a book deal so make sure you read the site, buy the book, read the book to the site, write the site in the book, then print the site in book form and make the two books fight.
Also perhaps you remember me whining about not being able to find a 36-color colored pencil for the trip. I got one, but it arrived a little too late for me to use. It was mailed from Canada, and somehow got from there, to here, crossing an international border, without postage. None. Try this with all your worldly packages. Imagine a world with totally free postage anywhere. Someone could send me an ice cream sundae everyday! What a delicious future, I’m glad to be a part of it.
When I was crossing international borders most of them (the very imaginary borders themselves) were absolutely shit-scared of anyone even mentioning the word SARS. So while you’re waiting in line in immigration, heat-sensing cameras scan you up and down and if you’re running a fever I guess the machine just loads a bullet and fires away. A few places had mass-sensing apparatus set up, and you could see yourself in the crowd of cool, yellow-colored blobs marching past the cameras. One guy from the UK got pulled out of the moving crowd and a woman smacked a small machine tool onto his forehead and was given the okay to proceed in about five seconds and he said “they singled me out because I’m from [the UK {here I can’t remember the exact term he used, let’s all get jet lag over and over again}].” Then because I like to ride the wave of dangerousness I started to take a photo and somehow all three women that were scanning the crowd – although their backs were to me – rose as a single unit and turned around yelling “NO PHOTO! NO PHOTO!” while pointing at the sign that said “NO PHOTO.” Then I got scared-feverish and a machine shot at me.
Part of the new anti-SARS preventive border thing is to hand out a health declaration card or maybe it’s old, it’s not like I’m a member of the jet set. I can’t remember which country it was, but one card offered around twelve different symptoms to check/not check – “are you currently ... feverish? dizzy?” etc, to the point where anyone with jet lag would probably have to check two or three boxes but no one with any symptom is going to check any box unless they’re dumb robots. “Yes, please ban me from your country because I have a cold. That would be most convenient. Don’t forget to tell the country I just came from, so I can be like that guy who lived in the airport for ten years.”
Finally, shouts and props out to Jakarta International Airport. I had to blow through there on a stopover, and I’m glad I did. Unlike every other airport I visited, I actually felt like I was in Jakarta. That retched Airport Modern style (you know, the one where you feel like you’re a tiny mouse in a maze being watched over by giant lab people) that’s infected airports worldwide was extremely subdued in Jakarta’s airport, just like the lighting. I don’t know if it was a conscious design decision, or they’re really itching to be like everyone else and just don’t have the time/money/etc, but now I’ve put Indonesia on the short list of future vacation destinations. I also had the help of an excellent transit clerk who made sure my bag made the jump from Narita to Jakarta to Singapore and followed up with me at the gate to reassure me that all was well.