The long and short about That Day At The Airport

A few months back, Sushi Eating Friend told me she will be going on a working sojourn to China for the next couple of years. Being the dutiful friend I am, I was there at the airport to see her off.

Now you must understand that I don’t have very good feelings about the airport. Besides getting traumatized there by evil coursemates during my poly attachment, I had terrible childhood memories of that place. When I was young, trips to the airport was meant purely for the purpose of sending rich relatives off to some exotic and expensive destination. My mum, on the other hand, couldn’t even afford a sundae at McDonald’s for whiny little me. Heh.

Lousy memories aside, the airport can be a downright depressing place. For one, you see scores of teary people hugging each other at the departure hall, where words as innocuous as ‘Last Call’ can mean heart break for some. Then you have those who are flying off with no one to kiss goodbye with.

Being the generous friend I am, I told Sushi Eating Friend I’m ready with a hug or a kiss if she needs it. She reciprocated by flashing me the finger. It doesn’t pay to be kind these days.


“Will you be as nice as to send letters?” I’m the type who gets happy whenever I get stuff in the mailbox, even if it’s just junk or bills. “If you’re busy, postcards will do fine too.”

“Maybe. But no promises k?” Sushi Eating Friend is the proverbial non-committal type of guy, except for the fact she’s not a guy. “If I’m free, I might even get a cheap tie for you or something.”

“Deal. And drinks’ on me this time.”


I waved goodbye while her retreating back faded into an oblivion of nameless faces. After standing there for what felt like a very long time, I left.


Then when I was on the bus back, I received an SMS that went, “I’m just shitting you. I will be back in September. Heh.”

I have no idea why I am still friends with Sushi Eating Friend.

With Love,
Sibeh Sian