I watch my brown flats take steps across the glossy white tiles, pulling my weekend bag behind me as I check my phone for the fourth time. Thank god I'm back on flat land; sitting for thirteen hours, at thirty thousand feet above the ground, is long enough. If only Gabe was here because I'm stuck with a five-hour transit at Terminal 3, Singapore Changi Airport while I wait to go sky high again.

What the heck am I going to do with myself for five hours at the airport? I don't ...