I walked past the bowing subservient air stewardesses, their doll-like eyes, and hair sprayed to impeccable anti-frizz perfection. Scorching bright glaring sunlight radiated from the glass walls. The runway was a picture of pure unnatural white, forcing me to squint.

    Dread.

    Approaching the immigration counter was a surreal experience - 'Singaporean passports only'. When was the last time I saw that?

    I used to get slightly harassed by the officials at San Francisco airport. They probably had an impression I was one of those Asian immigrant US-citizen-wannabe chinks until I learnt to speak American English.

    I was amazed at the speed of the immigration officials in Singapore. Smile, hand over the passport, she swipes it and she hands it back to youŠcleared in less than five minutes. Efficiency was one thing I could never fault Singapore for.

    Quickly, I picked my bags from the belt and proceeded to the parking lots (no, 'carpark'). Almost instantly, I felt steam rising in my jeans and my shoes. Heat. Tyrannical pervasive heat, prying open every pore, forcing moisture and perspiration to spill forth without inhibition.

   Why did I have to return now? Cursing under my breath, I saw my ride and immediately opened the door of the car to the safety of air-conditioned surroundings.