Changi airport

Sitting in my plane, waiting for everyone to board so we can head off to Paris.
Well, the TV screen says we’re going to Munich but I’m sure that’s just a misunderstanding.

The previous leg went without a mishap apart from when a man asked me to shift out of my seat. Turns out I was in the wrong but by then I was all settled in, bags stowed, socks on, drinking my welcome drink and watching a movie. He very kindly agreed to swap so all’s well that ends well although I heard him explaining to his friends that some dumb woman had made a mistake with her seat, as if I couldn’t hear him.
I watched two very weird movies, one of which I ran out of time to see the ending of so I’ll never know what happens to the glum working-class Finnish couple. I had to stop just after the ex alcoholic had been hit by a train. I also got several hours sleep, so that was great. I’m completely muddled as to what time zone I’m in so just sleeping whenever I get the chance.
Changi airport is fabulous. You just step off the plane and you’re free to wander within the enormous airport. So much better than anywhere in the US where you have to do immigration stuff even if you’re just transiting. Bonkers.