3hours of sleep.
My eyes were hardly open.
Yet I had to move my ass up.
Catch the first bus to the airport.
Amidst the mild rain, I went through the face of Bekasi that I hardly even know because I spent most of the times in the Big Durian.
Newly opened shopping mall, giant to-be stadium, connecting flyover.
Even a city grows up.
Saw a shadow of a girl standing below a dark and tall tree.
Wasn’t sure whether that was really a girl. Maybe my eyes betrayed me.
My father said, “Ladyboy..” as if reading my mind.
Oh, goodluck, you.
And I thought the first bus would be empty.
Within 15minutes, it’s filled and ready to go.
Passing through the empty roads, still dark sky.
Empty taxis waiting for passengers.
Were the drivers sleeping?
I wouldn’t know.
People sleep under the massive bridge, against the hard stone and the cold weather.
The ugly face of the capital.
Though the bus wasn’t rushing at all.
An hour, and here I am at the airport.
2 hours to get to the office on rush hour.
Tell me something about shitty Jakarta’s traffic.
Where all paradoxes happened.
Arrive at home. Depart for home.
Depart for somewhere. Arrive at somewhere.
Come too early, take your time at the waiting lounge. Sleep, have your breakfast, people-watching.
Come too late, run for your life through all the security checks.
And there’s always people who feels they’re too important to queue.
Anxious, happy, angry, sad, bored.
All sorts of emotions.
The charm of morning flights.
You get to see the things that you wouldn’t usually see.
Take your second nap and be in a whole different place when you wake up.