The countdown continues. I'm leaving for my high school reunion on Friday morning, catching a flight from Tokyo on Garuda airlines.

I have very fond memories of Indonesia's main national and international airline (the only competitor, as I remember, is the constantly teetering Merpati, which only flies domestically--when the whim strikes, or at least when the workers aren't). Once, my sister and I were on our way to Bali on Garuda and saw something that I still can't explain. For some reason, it was just the two of us together--I can't remember why it was just us, or when this was, exactly--but something about the woman across the aisle caught both of our attention at the same time. Perhaps it was the crazed amazement with which she was inspecting her tray of airline food.

My sister and I watched her with dread, knowing that something strange was going to happen. First, she hacked at her sandwich with a plastic fork until both sandwich and fork were decimated--without her having actually eaten any of it. Finished with this task, she moved on to the desert, a quivering, Lovecraftian, multi-colored gelatinous mound, and devoured it with a coffee straw. Turning to the salad, she poked through it and, finding nothing of interest, opened the little canister of dressing, peeled off the foil lid and, as though drinking a tequila shot, downed the whole thing in one gulp.

My sister and I have experienced a lot of strange things together. Another time, we were driving to Rhode Island to visit a friend, and, when we stopped for gas in Derby, Connecticut (I will forever remember this place), I discovered that my boxer shorts were hiked up almost to my chest and had turned clockwise. In the same gas station, we saw an elderly couple in a convertible. The man got out and was pumping gas, and everything seemed to be in order (except for that same vague feeling of knowing that something strange was going to happen), until we noticed that he was wearing a pair of stiletto heels with fishnet stockings. Not that there's anything wrong in this, of course: it's just that they clashed awfully with his golf cap. I wonder what strange things I'll see next week?

Good old Garuda.

My flight is a little circuitous, connecting me to Jakarta through Denpasar with a one-hour wait (so that I can stare out the window of the airport at the palm trees, but not rush off to the beach--yet). Once in Jakarta, I have a couple of days to spend with the ArtSpot team (pictures will be posted here after the event), do a bunch of reunion activities, and then back to Bali, this time to disembark. On my way back from Denpasar, I am routed back through Jakarta. Only Garuda could plan its flights in this manner.

I can't wait to go to Bali--it's consistently been my favorite place on earth for years and years. I was about to start in on an "Island of the Gods" tangent, but then I would sound like a Garuda brochure. Or like I'd just had one shot too many of salad dressing.