A 6 hour flight from Singapore to Tokyo.
A 4 hour layover in Tokyo.
An 8 hour flight from Tokyo to San Francisco.
It would have been horrible, had I not been met with a "Welcome to San Francisco" sign from Gavin.
After a solid 5 hour nap, where I dreamed of Geishas, I'm now wired. Nothing makes you miss your city like leaving it for 2 weeks in a third world country. I have to tell you, we flew in from the north, gliding over the coast until suddenly, there, as if in a high-budget movie, was the Golden Gate Bridge and the city and Alcatraz and shit, if I didn't see a cable car covered in Rice-A-Roni ads. It was amazing and prompted my mother to exclaim, "The pilot's just showing off, now!"
I failed to mention earlier that in Penang, every dining establishment is "Restoran."
"Vietnamese Restoran." "Indian Restoran." "Ng's Restoran."
So I'm opening a Southeast Asian joint in San Francisco. I'm calling it "Restoran" and it'll be the hottest ticket in town.
Anyway, I'm back. It's fucking cold here, but I am so glad to be back on my home turf.
As is protocol, the first thing I did upon touch down was text the BFF.
"I just landed!"
And reason number 6,739 that I love Zoe? She texted back. "Yay! And an hour early!"
Who knows that?
Oh, just my best friend.
Well, her rewards will be great. And have just been smuggled in from Asia...