A playground for James Bond
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I am sitting at the Marriott hotel in Singapore, just on Orchard Street where I have just consumed a couple of quiet poached eggs. Friends of mine lived in Singapore for two and a half years and the one thing I remember them saying was nothing really bad happens in this 20km x 40km country. Everything is clean. Everything works. And if it breaks, it's fixed before you blink. This is apparently cause for rather hilarious news reports about absolutely nothing. My friends mentioned how the leading story on the evening news can very easily be about investigations into a spate of graffiti which has gripped the city. The local police are interviewed in a way that can only be compared to that of a murder case investigation. The waitress at the Marriott has just brought me a newspaper and you will be happy to know that the main front page headline is "Singaporeans more sporty, keen on fitness now".

Awesome.

Good Morning, Singapore

One of the things that amuse me when traveling on my own is how one enters into what I call "Mute Mode". You can sometimes go for days without uttering a word to anyone. You'll find that sometimes the only words you have said for the last 14 hours are "chicken please". When I hit the ground in a place like Singapore I tend to switch my accent every time I communicate. I've been using a James Bond type accent today. I feel Singapore suits 007 to the ground. The few Western faces in amongst a sea of Asian simply lends itself to Bond. And sitting here in the corner of the restaurant at the Marriott seems all too perfect for words. I'm imagining a Sol Kerzner looking guy, who walks up to my table and says, "I believe the poached eggs here are good?"

Then I reply, "Always. But make sure it's with the crispy bacon".

Having swapped code phrases, we would be able to continue with our business.

"So, Mr. Rotherham, what brings you to Singapore?"

"The same reason you're here, Kerzner, to pretend that I'm James Bond"

"It's a long way to come for a role playing game"

"I'll decide what is a long way, Goldkerzner"

"How did you know my real name?"

"It's my role playing game I'm making up, I can do anything"

"Fuck you, Rothers, I can make you disappear."

I press a button under the table and my waitress, Long, throws her tray like a frisbee across the room, completely severing his head.

Back to reality, a group of people have just sat at the table next to mine and have done the whole exchange of business cards thing where they swap cards and stare at the cards like they've found the holy grail.

They're getting too close - I don't want them to blow my cover. I must rendezvous with The Dutch Billionaire at Borders bookshop in 10 minutes.

Seth Rotherham
Editor
2oceansvibe.com
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