GLEN FREY: "The Heat Is On"

"Love is an electric blanket with somebody else in control of the switch."

(Cathy Carlyle)

TOM JONES: "Sex Bomb"

“Do you have any laptop?” That’s what they ask when you are at the security screening of an airport nowadays, just before entering the gate where you will be boarding the plane. The same here in Jakarta. The girl in front of me answers negatively: “No, I don’t have a laptop”. But she definitely wears another, less sophisticated “top”…

In countries with a colder climate, passengers are requested to take off their jacket for security screening. In hot and humid Indonesia, they don’t need to ask that, since people seldom wear one. Orchards don’t have fence here, to put it with a plastic comparison. No wonder that the security officer can’t keep his eyes off her chest, where some overripe fruits scream for help, desperate for fresh air in their all too tight wrapping. Do some girls really think that they do nature a favour by using less fabric than what they actually need to cover up properly? And what’s his scrutiny for? Does he suspect that she’s smuggling silicone bags out of the country? He seems puzzled. Does he need to call the squat team to detonate these bombs? The only potentially hazardous items she’s carrying are clearly visible, but until further notice they are not on the list of items that are prohibited on board. And where to hide any other lethal item in this skimpy, flashy-pink dress of hers? The long heels of her shoes in even colour clearly do not help him to focus.

She walks through the metal detector. This must be his lucky day: the buzzer goes off. His female and male colleague who are monitoring the screen of the X-ray machine giggle like teenagers, and you don’t need to understand a single word of Bahasa to understand why all of a sudden they become so excited. In many airports, you have a male security officer to perform a body search on the male passengers and a female security officer to search the female passengers. But this country is known to be a very liberal society where they don’t bother so much about this kind of petty privacy considerations. Female emancipation and gender equality are no hollow words here: female passengers are treated in exactly the same manner like men...So the male officer starts doing what he’s supposed to do: he moves around her; touches her; he sniffles like a dog while wagging his security stick eagerly all over her body. Front and back, and vice-versa. Yet all good things come to an end. He has no choice but to tell her she can go in. She walks further, and he glances at his colleagues with a smile that tells it all.

Then it’s my turn. “Do you have any laptop?” Is this a trick question? Unlike my predecessor, I don’t have any impressive top. But he’s not going to stare at my lap, is he? I take my laptop out of my bag, put it through the X-ray machine and walk through the gate of the metal detector. This must be my unlucky day: the buzzer goes off. But no drooling on his part this time. He’s searching my body in a very efficient and definitely faster manner than the way he did with the previous passenger. And I can be mistaken, but I sincerely have the impression that my search is far less thorough also…

SNOOP DOGG: "Serial Killa"

I put the corn flakes in a bowl, pour some milk, take a spoon and start nibbling. The breakfast routine of a cereal killer...

TELEPOPMUSIK: "Breathe"

A boy and his girlfriend are enjoying the summer sun near the poolside. “What swimming style you prefer most?”, he asks. “Breast stroke”, she says. “Hmm…I like that too!”, he drools.

THE LIBERTINES: "Don't Look Back Into The Sun"

Cleavage is like the sun: you can glance at it, but you must not stare at it.

PATTI SMITH: "The Warrior"

Be a warrior, not a worrier.

R. KELLY: "Pregnant"

I look inside through the window of one of the studios of the yoga centre I frequent. Five pregnant females, each seated on a chair in one straight line next to each other. This must be the “prenatal yoga” class. I glance at the instructor. A man… hahaha

RIHANNA Ft. LADY GAGA: “Silly Boy”

That’s why this airport systematically ranks the top spot in international surveys on the best airports in the world. By the time you stroll from the gate and pass immigration, the first pieces of luggage parade on the belt already. I spot my bag, take it carelessly off the belt, and put it on the trolley. As usual, too heavy for the few days only that I have been away. I seem to want the same variety of choice in my hotel room as when opening my wardrobe at home. With a stubbornness that appears impossible to extinguish, I keep packing more outfits than I possibly can wear, even if I’d change clothes twice a day. It’s Friday evening, and there’s a busy relaxedness in the arrival terminal, as many business travellers come back to start the weekend after their overseas trips. I am lucky; I don’t have to wait all too long before I can step into a cab. I gaze at the slow peak-hour traffic through the window, as if I were in a train looking at an ever-changing landscape. There’s dreamy music on my MP3 player; a muse plays in my dreams.

There seems to be one long traffic jam all over the island. Finally, I almost reach home. Then suddenly my phone rings. “Sir, it appears you have taken the wrong bag off the belt just now. There’s a gentleman here with a bag that apparently looks very similar, and it appears to be yours.” I feel like sinking through the floor. The sight would be ugly though, as I would immediately be overridden by the car behind us and smashed into bloody pulp on this Singapore expressway. They could rename it into “RIP” then, instead of “PIE”. The news of my stupid mistake is a cold shower in stead of the warm one I was looking forward to. I promise to the lady who’s calling me that I will U-turn straight away and make my way back to airport. What else can I do? I need my own bag, and there’s somebody waiting for the one that is now in the trunk of this taxi. I hang up. Well, “hanging up” is no longer the appropriate term with the modern phones nowadays. Try it!

I feel so stupid when I tell the taxi driver what has happened and ask him to drive back to the airport. He can’t help but laughing, and of course he’s right to do so. I change my mind and let him drive me home first, more based on economic considerations than out of sweet revenge for him laughing at me and wanting to prevent him from earning even more money from this ride. I step into my own car and head back into the evening jams. Two hours after arriving at the airport back from my trip, I am there again.

As if I were a high profile criminal, I have to be escorted by two policemen to go back into the transit area, where the “Lost-and-Found” counter is located. And of course, a shift change just happens to be scheduled at my unscheduled time to go back in to return the wrong bag. After half an hour of waiting, two junior officers finally show up. They walk even more relaxed than they would if they would be wearing nothing but their beachwear and sunglasses, in stead of a blue police uniform. How to be stressed if your first duty of the day is to walk a distracted, silly boy like me through a glass panel over a distance of 30 metres…It’s a happy coincidence that the glass panel slides open before walking through, without them even having to whisper “open sesame”.

I step into the “Lost-and-Found”, and see my travel bag immediately, patiently waiting for me. If luggage would have thoughts, then my bag would probably have been shocked to find out that he actually had a twin brother, and hurt at the same time, realizing that I had mistaken this other fellow for him. But he would be grateful too, I guess, my faithful travel companion, knowing that I have shown him around to many more destinations than a plastic supermarket bag or a leather postman’s bag ever will.

“The other passenger did not wait any longer,” I am told. “We will bring his bag to his home. The man was OK with it, but his wife was very, very angry.” “Oh, isn’t it always like that?”, I tease them. To my surprise, all three females in the room agree. Self-knowledge is the basis of all wisdom. I smile as I squat down to look at my bag. Yes, this is mine. But the similarity with the other bag is striking, so I somehow forgive myself already. Not only is the bag identical, but also all other accessories are affixed in exactly the same manner: the frequent flyer tag, the padlock, the “priority” ribbon. What a disappointment: I always thought I had my own style. In any case, I may not be unique after all, but I am definitely stupid and distracted, and I haven proven it once again. ..

Epilogue

Three days later: another plane, again insane. After take-off, I turn on my laptop, I plug in the mouse, and the power cable into the socket. I put my headset on, ready to enjoy some music while working. Nowadays you can work more relaxed in the plane than in the office, not interrupted by colleagues at your desk or incoming calls. You can even take your shoes off, have a sip of champagne and be served at your every whim by most helpful crew.

I notice that my laptop is operating on battery power, in stead of the power that is supposed to be tapped from the plane seat. Strange. This plane looks like new; I can hardly imagine that the socket is faulty. But nothing is impossible. The seat next to mine is not occupied, so I try the built-in socket in that seat. Still the same: my computer keeps discharging battery power. I try a few more times in both seats: in, out, in, out… (shake it all around). I know that my battery won’t last for the full 7 hours of this flight. So I turn to the stewardess and ask her to check if the electrical sockets may be faulty perhaps. Just as she walks away to go and check the central monitoring panel, I discover the reason of my power problems: I forgot to insert the other end of the cable into my laptop!
I apologize with a smile. “What else can I do?”. Déjà-vu...

LENNY KRAVITZ: "Mr Cab Driver"

In general, taxi drivers in any part of the world seldom excel in trustworthiness. If you don't tell them explicitly, they "forget" to switch the meter on, after which they will demonstrate their first-class acting skills at the end of the trip, when they bluntly name you any price that pops-up in their mind. The only mathematical certainty is that this fare will be at least triple the price of what the meter would have indicated. Let the bargaining game begin…
Or they do put on the meter, but then they show you all around town and keep driving, undisturbed by your nervous wiggling on the backseat. When you finally break the silence and voice out that question “Are you sure this is the shortest way?”, only then do they unnoticeably adjust their course into the right direction. As by miracle, you reach your destination in no time thereafter.

Then there are the taxi drivers who stop at the souvenir shop of their “friend”. “Just look, Sir. No need to buy.” You show your annoyance by saying that you didn’t ask for that, but yet you remain polite. You go in, stroll through the shop and put up a smile. Three minutes later you are in the car again and pretend you don't see the disgruntled expression on the taxi driver’s face, as he realizes that he won’t get any commission from this shop. “Let’s go.”

Then…there is this same taxi driver who halts in front of “his uncle’s shop”, not even ten minutes later. Now your annoyance turns into anger. You don’t need to fake when you tell the guy off. “I don’t want to step out here. I don’t need anything. Just bring me straight to where I asked you to bring me.”
“Please, Sir. Please go in. It only takes a few minutes. No need to buy. Just looki-looki, Sir.” You keep your cool. The motor is warm, but turned off. "No, I am not stepping out. Keep driving!"
“Please, Sir. You would make my uncle so happy. Please, do it for me, Sir.” There are those acting skills again. In a few seconds, your brain makes the trade-off between wasting more time in that pointless discussion, or just swallowing your pride and going inside.
Five minutes later, you step back into the taxi again, just as empty-handed as you were when you left it. It would have been “two minutes later”, if only you had had the courage to stick to your stand when you originally refused that cup of tea that was offered to you by that irritating and crappy “uncle”…
“Let’s go”, you sigh.

And then…there is that same taxi driver who parks his car, hardly another ten minutes later. In all your naivety, you knew the answer even before you asked. “Have we arrived? Is this the place?”
Sixty seconds later, you are on the pavement and you see yourself mirrored in the window of that so-called “sister’s shop”, cursing the guy who brought you there and using all kinds of vulgar words you had never imagined hearing out of your own mouth.
To ventilate your frustration, you slammed the door while shouting “get away from here!”, only later realizing that you actually threw him a note for much more of the meter price, and didn't wait for the change. And still you are not where you were supposed to be ages ago…

Ah, taxi drivers and change. Either they claim they don't have it, or they give you the wrong change: too little, or a note that is no longer in circulation. Then you are stuck with a bank note that nobody wants to accept, since everybody-except-you seems to know that this note is no longer in use.

The worst cab drivers of all? You probably find them at airports. One after the other will tout and ask you if you need a taxi, unstoppable like flies circling around you. Only when you finally reach the official taxi queue will you be freed from them. Or they refuse to take you on board, after they find out where you are heading to.

I encountered another remarkable species of taxi crook at Ulaanbatar Airport recently. He drives a yellow cab and his English knowledge was apparently enough to understand the name of the hotel. We drive off. After a few hundred meters, the car starts shaking. And slows down. It goes off the road almost, at the very extreme right. Then accelerate, but when putting the engine into second gear, the car starts vibrating again and almost halts. Cars overtake. The taxi driver repeats the trick, without success. So there you are: you just arrived in an unknown country, longing for a refreshing shower but instead receiving a bad omen at the start of your holiday: a taxi breaking down. We continue at walking speed. A hill in front. The driver changes strategy. He goes totally off-road. At that point of time, I had yet to find out that in Mongolia, the difference between the road and the steppe surrounding it is often hardly visible. Anyway, he drives his car off the road and makes a big 180 degrees turn. He stops, makes a move with the gear handle, turns his head towards the back seat and…the car starts speeding in reverse gear! He reaches 70 kilometer per hour driving backwards on the dusty gravel up the hill. Scary! Before, he had hardly reached 20 kilometer per hour driving forward on the asphalt road of even surface. This is crazy! And yes, he’s totally aware of that, and enjoys the thrill. He shifts his eyesight from the rear window to me, with a pale face holding tight on the backseat, and starts laughing and roaring in a way only villains in cartoons do.

On top of the hill, the car slides from backward to forward like an ice ballet dancer, when the driver steps abruptly onto the break. He changes to first gear again and lets the car roll down the hill, where he parks very neatly next to the gas pump of a petrol station. He steps out and chitchats with the lady who tops up the fuel for him. As if nothing happened.

The engine hums peacefully when he turns the start key minutes later. We drive off, once again, but now the car behaves like a first-row student. No shaking anymore. A completely smooth ride. The only thing that had caused the car to shake earlier, was an empty fuel tank. But don’t tell me that the taxi driver didn’t know about that when he queued to pick up a customer at the airport…

KINGS OF LEON: "Cold Desert"

Ulaanbaatar (Mongolia)

JOHNNY LOGAN: "Hold Me Now"

A good friend is like a bra: close to your heart and always there to support.

KREZIP: "I Would Stay"

No one is ever too old to learn or to appreciate some verbal creativity. How about this new word: staycation, referring to a holiday spent at home, in your own country. So I guess staycation is precisely what I am doing now.

JASON MRAZ Ft. JAMES MORRISON: "Details In The Fabric"

“De gustibus et coloribus non desputandum est”. This is an old Latin expression, which states that “you can not argue about personal taste and colours”. We all have our own style of clothes and our personal idea about what is nice to wear and what is not.

Speaking for myself, I do have a few things that I really consider tasteless, either for man or for women. Nonetheless, the items of the following list are not yet threatened by extinction. Just walk down the street and you will sure spot them. For like what I said, personal taste is very individual and subjective.

My Personal “NOT DONE” List for Women:

- girls with a baseball cap
- black nail polish
- round earrings with a diameter of 5 cm and beyond
- underwear with tiger print or cartoon characters
- ear and leg warmers
- wearing sport shoes with a two-piece

And “NOT DONE” for Men:

- a classical one, to warm up: a bermuda with white sport socks and sandals
- golden necklace
- Hawaï shirt
- Tattoo
- a sleeveless fishnet T-shirt
- G-string

STEVIE WONDER: “Hello”

Beijing Lu, Kunming (Yunnan province, China). There’s four of them. Four in a row. Eye lids closed. A small chair in front of them, on the pavement. A self-painted banner behind them, full of Chinese characters describing the services they offer. And a price per item. Of course. Massage on the street. An old man seated on one of the chairs sets the example.

They call for attention to passers-by. “An Mó”. “An Mó”. The mandarin for “massage”. The words echo over the street. I pass by and look curiously as I walk along. Then all of a sudden, I hear “massage”, “massage”…Haha…I never knew blind man can tell the colour of your skin by the tone of your footsteps…

DEEP BLUE SOMETHING: "Breakfast at Tiffany's"

- Wow, nice watch you are wearing...
- Tiffany's.
- Gosh, it's not yours, you stole it?!

THE CURE: "Lullaby"

"Dreams never sleep" (Citibank ad)

JOHN PAUL YOUNG: "Love Is In The Air"

At Luxembourg airport.

THE KILLERS: "Human"

Last time I heard there were about 5 billion people on this world. But all of us die, and new babies are born every day. So the 5 billion of us today, will all be replaced by others at some point of time. Would anybody ever have estimated how many people ever lived since day 1?

LL COOL J: "Back Seat"

Children in the back of a car can cause accidents
Accidents in the back of a car can cause children

RED HOT CHILI PEPPERS: "Hard To Concentrate"

He, who laughs last, thinks slowest.