In Malta

I thought I'd update my friends on my current exciting Adventure! I am off for a few weeks in Malta, then for a couple of days in Paris!

Flying is always a bit of a challenge for me, as I tend to suffer from motion sickness. To treat my motion sickness, I take 2 Gravol tablets. Unfortunately, Gravol tends to knock me out. Mix that with the adjusted cabin pressure and I'm out like a light. Even when I take the non-drowsy version, I still go lights-out for the next few hours. Any attempt at staying awake only causes me to go into a deep trance-like sleep early on in the evening.

My Saturday flight was no different from the rest. I took my Gravol pills an hour before my flight as I usually do, and got ready to board the plane. I was pleasantly surprised to find that the clerk at the check-in counter gave me a window seat in the exit aisle. The extra leg room afforded for passengers in the exit aisle is a special treat for me. The Gravol tends to give me the jimmy legs, and I frequently deboard the train with bruised shins, caused by mt spastic leg movements as I sleep. Another pleasant surprise was the nice french couple sitting beside me. They reminded me of skinny versions of Danny DeVito and Reah Pearlman, if only Reah Pearlman had a horrible bout of halitosis. Aside from the issue that Reah would frequently talk in my direction, spewing halitosis gas in my vicinity and in turn waking me from my flight slumber, it wasn't too bad. Although this flight to Europe was longer than I was use to, it wasn't too bad. I was probably awake for a total of 2.5 hours. 1.5 hours to watch Indiana Jones, 0.5 hours to eat my meal, and 10 x 3 minute mini wake ups due to the yellow fog emanating from my row-mate.

From that point on, the transit between France and Malta was uneventful, which from a guy who frequently profiled when travelling, is quite pleasant. In past travelling adventures, I've been asked to strip to my underwear, asked to go through the explosives detection machine twice in one security check, had my car taken apart twice and have been pulled aside by security and searched while waiting for my plane to arrive in the post-security section of an airport. All in all, having an uneventful transit to Malta is good news for me.

Today, I'm going to head down to the beach and relax

Baby Lassie scarred me for life.

As some of you may have already seen, I have a tiny scar that runs from the base of my nostril to my upper lip. If you attended Vista Heights public school, you may know it as the Bugger Chunnel.

You may wonder how I got such a scar. Well, wonder no more as the mystery of the Chunnel is about to be told. Please feel free to pause from reading, grab some pop corn and a frosted beverage. I’ll wait.

Picture a 3 year old toddler, vacationing in Malta. This 3 year old is happy and active yet bored out of his mind. He stayed with his family at his grandparents’ house. Unfortunately, for a 3 year old, Disneyland and time at spending quality time with the family are polar opposites. What’s an active 3 year old to do? One brilliant idea is to chase a miniature collie around the house. Similar to a midget crocodile hunter, he stalked his prey and chased it from room to room until the dog settled under a bed. Seeing as how the dog had nowhere else to go, the toddler crept under the bed, and grabbed the dog. Victory! This miniature collie will go well in his imaginary trophy case. Much to the toddler’s surprise, the collie didn’t want to go without a fight and swiped at the toddlers face, tearing the skin and leaving behind a sizeable gash.

If you haven’t already figures out, the toddler was me. I think I mentioned earlier in the blog how this was my story. Please keep up.

Well, my parents carted me away to the clinic where the doctor applied a butterfly stitch to my lip and instructed my parents to keep an eye on me. The trouble with a facial wound is that if the butterfly stitch were to come prematurely undone, it could result in a permanent facial scar, and in turn an unbalanced moustache. No sooner does the doctor instruct my parents to keep an eye on my lip as I tear off the Band-Aid and start picking at the scar. My parents knew at that point that re-applying the butterfly stitch would result in futility.

So, here I am today, with a scar on my upper lip and a story to share with the world. I’ve attached a photo of my big sis, my dad and myself, all sporting matching Band-Aid moustaches. I think it makes me look like a menacing Tattoo from Fantasy Island.

Enjoy the pics.

Oh, and if you were wondering, the collie’s name was Snoopy.