[british_boy]

The flight was long. Between London and Dubai I drifted in an out of a half sleep; watching but not watching the in-flight films, and feeling alternating between feelings of madness, euphoria, and the sense of having made the sanest decision of my life.

Dubai airport teemed with people. Twenty-four hours without sleep and my eyes stung as the sharp desert sunlight pierced the windows of the transfer lounge. Arabs in white robes were everywhere, and it crossed my mind that I could be stoned to death there for what I was doing. Could the guy who served me an oversized cappucino read my thoughts? I tried to read Time magazine and put all thoughts of sex out of my head just in case. Fatigue was making my paranoid. Three hours later and I boarded the Manila plane. The whole situation became more real when I looked around me to see that the whole plane was packed with Filipinos and me... a blue eyed white boy in a sea of weathered brown workers heading home to their families. Like I said, I was paranoid, but I'm sure they eyed me like I didn't belong on their plane, or in their world.

It was midnight when as I dragged my suitcase through the dated arrivals hall in Manila airport, but it could have been any time of day. Stepping through the doors, the sultry heat pressed on my face like a hot towel. Cities have a smell, and Manila's was pungent and thick, rising up from the pavements and drains, and pervading everything. I looked around for that face I'd seen a hundred times. Nothing. No one looked familiar, and all I could see was movement; of taxis; of people; of security; of traffic. Where was she? I looked back through the arrival hall's doors but I couldn't see her, or anyone remotely like her. My head started to swim, and a wave of fatigue and nausea washed over me. She wasn't there. A thousand quid on travel and hotels and she wasn't there. I was a fool. I felt like crying; not through sadness but of anger; not at her, but at myself for being so ridiculous. But I still had some hope left - maybe she got lost, maybe the taxi broke down? I pulled out my phone. Nothing. I searched in vain, but it wouldn't pick up the local networks. Payphone, I thought. There must be a payphone inside. But I couldn't get inside. "No entry!" the security said, impervious to my pleas. I was out and had to stay out. Where the hell was I? I sat on my case and lit the first cigarette in what seemed like days. I saw the rest of my trip unfold with startling clarity.. a night or two alone in a Manila hotel, the a rebooked flight back to London...