Part 1: Don't Fly Hungover

 So the day finally came on Sunday to pack up and leave London. I had in fact packed up most of my stuff and sent it home via sea freight (I'll perhaps cover that later when it finally catches up with me) and packed my bags on Friday, in anticipation of going out for a few leaving drinks on Saturday afternoon. Naturally a few drinks in the afternoon ended up with me going to bed at about 3am. Luckily I cut myself off at midnight and got a few pints of water in before bed (a rare occurrence by any account), but nevertheless, waking up for a 6 o'clock alarm was pretty hard to do. A shower, the last few bits of clothes stuffed haphazardly into my bag and some teary goodbyes, and I was out the door.

Perhaps the worst thing about leaving the house at 7am horrendously hungover in London is trying to catch the tube with about 40kg worth of luggage in tow. As I would come to learn later as I followed others through baggage claim, I pack mercifully light, but still, navigating the rabbit warrens of multiple train and tube stations (Clapham Junction, Victoria and Green Park for anyone who cares) with a wheelie bag kinda sucks. Thankfully, the other effect of travelling hungover is that I don't really remember much of this leg of the journey.  

After a ride on the Piccadilly line just long enough that I was almost asleep again by the time we reached the terminal, I jumped off the train to be greeted by fairly normal proceedings at Heathrow. I checked my bag in, headed through security (remind me why I need to take my shoes off please?), and was greeted by a surprisingly small selection of dining and shopping options airside. Frankly, all I was really after was a Macca's breakfast, and I can't remember the last time I didn't see one in an airport. I settled for a Full English at the pub, and then headed to my gate.

There's not really alot to report about the experience at Heathrow - it was amazingly normal, apart from changes to the seating (just some plastic to stop people from sitting next to each other) and alot of shops and food outlets being closed. The plane was boarded with transiting passengers (ie, those passing through Singapore, and wouldn't leave the airport) being boarded first, and then anyone flying direct being boarded after.

I settled in with a full row to myself, like everyone else on this flight, and expected the sweet relief of sleep to roll over me. I usually have a habit of falling asleep somewhere in the middle of the safety briefing before we've left the ground, but didn't have any luck this time around. I put Avengers: Endgame on my screen, and did finally fall asleep after about an hour... just in time to be woken up by the hostess for lunch.

All in all, I probably slept under an hour total on this 12 hour flight, with only 2 hours of restless drunk sleep the night before to prop me up. Unfortunately, this is a trend for me on long haul flights, but does at least allow me to catch up on movies (Inflight entertainment has come a long way from everyone being forced to watch the same episode of Neighbours on a screen three seats away, hasn't it?).

*I usually put movies on that I've seen before on in planes, so that I don't care if I fall asleep through them - but the one movie I fell asleep through was the new Bad Boys which I hadn't seen, so that's a rousing review of that movie I guess.*

My one little tip for flying is to set your watch to the time zone you're flying into as soon as you sit down. Everyone has their phone on them nowadays anyway, and the time won't update on flight mode, so setting your watch saves that little bit of mental strain trying to work out the time difference, and allows you to get a better grip on what time it is at your destination, as this has much more bearing on your schedules and cycles than the timezone you're leaving as soon as you're in the air (I feel like this is more useful for anyone who can actually sleep on a plane, but still).

Even though we left at midday, this was essentially an overnight flight, chasing the sun East to arrive at 7am. While I honestly hoped for some delays along the way, we arrived in Changi a bit early, adding an extra 20 minutes to what was already and almost 17 hour long transfer. Passengers entering Singapore left the plane first, leaving all transiting passengers onboard. Airport staff came through and gave everyone a wristband as they were checked off a manifest (best to change back to your assigned seat for this if you've happened to move around the cabin), and we were then allowed to leave the plane.

We didn't get far, as we were halted just outside the gate and made to line up to be herded through the airport. It was eerily quiet through the whole of terminal 3, pretty much all gates and amenities are closed, and we just cruised along the seemingly endless row of travelators to the very end of the terminal. Here the area had been cordoned off as not so much a transit area, but a holding pen for those waiting for connecting flights. After a quick lap to get my bearings, I made a bee line for the far end of the space to snag a couch and promptly fell asleep for a few hours, keen to wipe off as many hours as I could from the upcoming wait.

With 4 or 5 hours sleep, I set about exploring this strange new space (read: I paced around in circles like a caged animal). There was a few food options; vending machines and small stalls for snacks, some large hot food vending machines that I unfortunately discovered tucked in a corner too late and didn't get to try, or you could order food through an Uber Eats-esque app from the couple of venues still open elsewhere in the terminal.

Overall, what could have been an absolutely horrendous day was pleasant enough, watching the ebb and flow of people in and out, but it did grow wearisome. Eventually, everyone was herded back into rows ready for another trip down to the other end of the terminal. It really did feel like being somewhere between cattle and school children as the staff tried to coax the crowd into something that resembled straight lines ready to jump on the transfer train. 

I am torn between being exasperated with the level of coercion and caution attempted by the staff to keep everyone in line and a metre apart, considering that everyone was about to spend the next 6 hours in a metal tube together breathing each others air, and being bemused with how much difficulty fully grown adults seem to have with actions that any primary school age child is capable of. But anyway, after another security check, where I got in trouble for trying to take my tray with me to repack my laptop, we were back on the plane.

On this flight, I again had a full row to myself and empty rows around me, but passengers a row up from me - very obviously strangers to each other - had been seated together. One guy raised it with a hostess who sorted it pretty easily and separated them out, but it added some drama to what was otherwise a rather boring and uneventful flight.

Another tip - on a flight like this one, ie. relatively short at 6 hours, and leaving around midnight (pretty sure this counts as a red-eye), the lights stay off and there isn't any meal service until breakfast time so make sure to stock up before leaving the airport. I didn't eat enough during my layover, and was typically unable to sleep on the flight, so was quite relieved to see the lights come up nearing the last rise hour of the flight and for breakfast to come around. My next meal wouldn't be till lunch time in the hotel either, so it's definitely worth having some snacks in your bag.

An early morning arrival meant we were treated to a rather spectacular sunrise on approach, before touching down, ready to be herded through another airport. I was instantly disorientated as I entered the gate - I'm so used to coming out into the departure gate, that going down into the bowels of the building for passport control threw me a little bit. After a temperature check and a fresh mask, we passed through passport control and into customs. The big difference here is that the customs hall is swarming with AFP, who take over as shepherds and ensure everyone get on the bus to the hotel. (More on that next time)

I'll leave with a protip for the douche-bag behind me in line as well - talking loudly about the cocaine you have stashed up your arse while in the passport control line is still a bad idea. In fact, probably worse because the terminal is now full of very bored cops, who are already wearing rubber gloves and face masks. You do you, but the last thing I want after about 48 hours travelling is to end up in the little side room with someone digging around for a lame joke. So edgy, so cool. Oh, and if you want to complain about needing to pay for quarantine, don't tell it to the customs official, he cares even less than I do, and can do just as much about it. 

Overall, the whole day and a half of travel was pretty unremarkable, apart from my own self inflicted issues as I slowly pulled myself back into a functioning human being. Everyone was remarkably friendly, watching Singapore Airlines hostesses hold a passengers crying baby for her so she had time to eat breakfast was particularly heartwarming. It also reminded me how lucky I am to be able to collapse onto a plane a hungover mess, while others have to wrangle children as they slowly unravel after 30+ hours of sitting still. I can only imagine how difficult the next couple of weeks are going to be for those people.

Next up: On the Bus!