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Even at 3am the air at Changi airport is suffocating in its humidity. It hits you the minute you leave the plane and doesn't loosen its grip until you climb back into your aeronautical womb.
Having just stepped off a seven-hour night flight from Sydney I had one thought and one thought only on my mind. Nicotine. Namely the acquisition there of.
I wasn't the only one who made my way straight through the sanctuary of the air-conditioned terminal and up the escalator to the roof garden.
Trying to explain to a non-smoker what eight hours without a cigarette (no smoking at the departure gate) is like is akin to trying to explain to a desert dweller what snow is like. You can describe it all you want but until you actually experience it you have no idea; no real understanding and grasp of the concept.
So there I was, sat on a quite delightful paved patio in the cactus garden, a surprisingly tranquil place considering that there were places taxing all around, the terrace itself silent apart from the chirp of some insect, the hiss of the water spray and the steady inhalation of those around me, when I happened to glance up and catch the eye of one of my fellow devotees.
Did a double take.
Looked back, only this time slower.
He smiled and took a long drag - exhaling through his nostrils.
Sitting casually forward, feet apart, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped loosely between his legs, looking as time zoned as the rest of us.
Another drag and a flick of ash into the low light.
I smiled in return.
Nicotine withdrawal is a great leveller.
When the deprivation starts we are all equal in the eyes of Philip Morris.
Neither of us spoke.
Well what did I expect? Him to turn 'round and say 'Hi, I'm travelling on my own tonight and am in desperate need of renewing my membership of the mile high club. Ever done it in a first class bathroom?'
Instead I flicked away my own ash and breathed in deeply. Hot air chasing the smoke down into my lungs.
We remained that way for several minutes then with one final smile and that patented twinkle in his flight-weary eyes he ground his butt out on a nearby grill and tossed it into the bin.
I laughed silently at him.
He knew I knew.
And I knew he knew.
A quick up-nod and then he was gone.
Just another traveller knocking six minutes off of their life.
~finis~
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