2005-11-15 - 5:07 p.m.

Yesterday I braved the huge, scary travel industry exhibition. I haven�t been for a few years, mostly because my relationship to the travel industry is roughly on a par with that of a kernel of popcorn to the film industry � loosely connected sometimes, but not so�s you�d notice, and most of the time confined to hanging around on sticky floors in dark rooms.

Press conferences are usually the most helpful events at the exhibition, especially if you�re looking for free coffee and a selection of pastries, so I mostly hung around those, listening to speakers talk about such thrilling topics as the challenges facing the Malaysian sailing industry, why you should go to the Hong Kong bun festival and other vital issues of the day.

Most people use it to catch up with people they haven�t seen all year. I seem to lean more to having my past catch up with me, in the form of annoying questions from PR company employees whose names I can never remember, including such classics as �Why aren�t you returning my calls?� , �Didn�t you read my last e-mail?� and my all time favourite, �Where�s the feature to accompany that expensive holiday I sent you on for free last year?�

It�s about this time I remember a very important appointment I had just arranged at the opposite end of the exhibition hall.

The freebies on offer this year were horrendous. Talk about the unreported disastrous effects of the Tsunami. When even free mousemats are unavailable, that�s when you know tragedy has struck. I�m, like, a forgotten victim, or something.

Anyway, I scored a few free invites for some swanky travel events this week, including a Maldivian Night tonight, which I strongly suspect might involve crab racing of some kind and then tomorrow, in a showboating move of overwhelming blaggissimo, dinner with (a bit of) the Thai Royal Family. I�m hoping for a reverse King & I scenario with one of the princesses. I have Yul Brinner�s hairline, after all. (Note to self: at no point say the phrase �Me love you long time� in an Asian, or any other accent, even in the drunkest of jests, no matter how much you might think the situation might demand it.)

So that should be alright.

From little acorns do might oaks grow, and you don�t get much of a littler acorn than my
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