Ocean's Eleven, Raihan's Twelve

It's the 8th of January 2005. The fastest eight days I've felt in a long time.

The beginning of something always feels like forever to start but felt like it took a nanosecond to end, doesn't it?

As I watch Anna begin a long-awaited new phase in her life, I begin to take stock of mine.

I was where she is now, before. I was full of anticipation, optimism and Dubai-ism. I kept stealing glances at my red hat. I kept arranging and re-arranging my uniform and all the bits that came with it. I kept decorating and re-decorating my abode. I kept taking pictures. I kept spending money. I was high on adrenaline and nothing could stop me. I was on a roll. The skeptical would round me up as "kemaruk" nak jadi stewardess. The cynical (and quite the uninitiated) would label me a "just a waitress". The insulting would say the word "bimbo" to me in five different languages.The me would say that was I was about to start on a job which I knew I could love.

And I did. And I stayed. And I lived. And it didn't hit me that I've been here for a year until I was told that I was on check on my recent London flight and the check report would be crucial this time because I will be due for my promotion to Business Class soon.

Wham.

Twelve months. And I did not feel like it has been twelve months. I am still as I was when I first started. Though I know I am that much wiser and I've seen enough flushed faces to differentiate between a drunk passenger and a passenger suffering from anaphylactic shock and heard of enough chest pains to know what's a heart attack and what's a heartburn, I still feel like a vulnerable, helpless newbie sometimes and I still cannot get enough when my seniors start sharing their many inflight dramas and experiences and start doling out their been-there-done-that advice. I still love staring out the window on daytime flights on my breaks and watching the vast views of cotton clouds, tiny cities and a few times, the Himalayas, looking very small and non-threatening. I still get overwhelmed when I'm flying into a colourful sunrise. I still love walking around in cold London. I still behold the anticipation of going to New York and paying Vera Wang a visit. I still get excited over a flight, even if it's a full-up Nairobi trip or an overnight Hyderabad turnaround.

I still love my job.

And that's a lot to say in a year considering I felt sluggish a few weeks into my training phase in Mediacorp Radio and the only thing that made me drag myself to Caldecott Hill is the full support of and the barrels of laughs I would have with Abang Gee (aka TG) and Kak Su (aka SK). They were my mentors and my blood during my Ria days yet when we all sit down in the conty, the studio or the Ria office and dissect and dissert life seriously, they'd smuggle whispers of real opinions into my ears. Of regret for not doing what they really wanted to do when they were my age. Of weary thoughts of work. Of working their asses off for nothing sometimes. Of being a Malay in Cheena-favoured Mediacorp Radio. There were alsoe times quite long ago, I contemplated jumping unto the bandwagon of NIE with all my other friends to educate our young to reap governmental benefits and long holidays but I am not as sweet and as patient with other people's kids as all you dedicated trainee teachers out there (kudos!!). I also get easily irritated with slow people and what are the chances of me getting a classroom full of little stubborn Raihans? Unspeakable nightmare.

Let's not get into my constant feelings of redundancy and unworthiness in the Ritz, the Fullerton and the likes that I've tried to work for. You've read it all before. Let's not pick at old wounds.

But I have no regrets. Having worked in those places only made me better in the adult world of earning your own keep and working at the Ritz brought wonderful Azim into my life. As I lift a certain guyfriend's adage of "what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger", I know that every battle I lose will bring me closer to a battle I will win one day. Whatever winning means.

What's in it for the future? What are my professional plans? Will the red hat stay red for long?

Apart from the degree I will be slogging for to hold, I believe my answer will be as uncertain as Anna's.

When you've got a good thing going on, don't question it so. Just be thankful for it, go with the flow and make out of it the best that is yet to be.

And welcome to Dubai, Anna.

PS: To my bloghopper who saw my previous entry as a wake-up call to be a better Muslim, I am flattered but I am one of the last people you'd want to get a religious wake up call from. As I have mentioned, I falter a hell lot as a Muslim and I still have so much more to learn, especially when living in Dubai puts our religion in a whole new light. Meaning, where I think so many Singaporean Muslims get so forced, so particular and so anal (pardon my French) about something so basically beautiful, the local Dubaians make it a lifestyle that is easier to adapt to and thus builds sincerity in one's heart when one reaches the time for revelation about our religion. Yet, I am glad to see what I wrote struck a chord though I didn't intend it to. I was just......in awe, when I waxed that piece. :) But many thanks.