We were meant to arrive in Singapore a little after eleven in the morning, just in time for lunch and coconut laksa. Thought we would run a few laps around Tiong Bahru and look for books.
Then turn a few corners over to Everton Park. Stop here, here and here for coffee. We'd hunt for chilli crab we could afford.
I'd finish my second film roll on Keong Saik, Singapore's transformed red-light district, its windows to the trendiest bars and its colourful three storey shophouses. We'd slow down for Satay before heading back to Kuala Lumpur.
There was a delayed bus, without permit that couldn't cross the border. There was rain and humidity that coated our bodies with sweat. We found unexpected company amongst the others stranded and moved through immigration as a pack. Occasionally, I looked up for the older Indian man and the Indonesian exchange student travelling alone, making sure they stayed close behind us.
We tore almond croissants and Kouign Amanns from the sweetest French Bakery, lost in the rain looking for something to see. We joined other tourists in places too familiar, not making for good photography.
Later, there was worship and hawker stalls finished for the night. The Indian fellows were the last to close shop, still suggesting greasy potato curries near midnight. Then came the blasted A/Cs and carpeted interiors and five am arrivals in Kuala Lampur.
We did still have coffee three times, so yeah, I'd do it all over again.