Promdi and loving it

Talk about blogging in white heat. I have to, if I want to capture a feeling like I have now.

Around two hours ago, I landed in Singapore; around an hour ago, I arrived in my room at the Shangri-La Hotel. I had stayed here for six nights during an office conference last February, and had been awestruck at what a luxurious place it was.

Even so, I was unprepared for the first thing I saw when I stepped into my room this evening:

Oh my God, I thought. Unlike my room last February, there was a couch, a desk, and no bed from the vantage point of the door.

Well, here's what I saw when I took a few steps more. OH MY GOD.

I couldn't believe it. I was in a room of the Horizon Club of Shangri-La Singapore -- the premiere club, of a five-star hotel, in a first-world country. (I don't know if this room is in the "suite" category -- I'm sure pretty this hotel has much much snazzier rooms than this -- but this is the suite-est I've ever been in, or even imagined setting foot in for that matter!)

Sophistication melts away and promdi-ness sets in. Think the "I Think I'm Gonna Like it Here" production number from the musical Annie. Think the cliche "pinching myself in disbelief." Think of the promdi who has just stepped off the bus, in the city for the first time, gawking up at the Makati skyline with the camera tracking around him from a worm's eye view to emphasize the bigness of everything.

I call up James and give him a breathless series of ten or so "oh my God"s, and "I wish you were here"s. I take pictures of the room from every possible angle. I log on to YM and put ito ang totoong OH MY GOD as my status message. I send James the photos. Then, still in the clothes I'd been wearing all day, and without moving my stuff from my luggage into the closet, I start blogging.

Two days ago, my boss's first line to me when he arrived at the office was: "Are you busy Thursday and Friday?"

"Just a few meetings," I replied. "Movable."

"Okay," he said, "you're going to Singapore for a so and so meeting..."

Cool. Nice opportunity to get out of the regular office routine, shop for a few things not available find in the Philippines, and have some good meals.

It wasn't a treat for the travel agency though. My boss confirmed my trip only late that afternoon, so they had only yesterday to put it together.

The plane ticket was fine. I was initially waitlisted, but they were able to book me.

The hotel booking, however, was another story. By some uncanny coincidence, a handful of companies had suddenly decided to hold conventions in Singapore the same days I was flying there, thereby filling up all hotels. In Sheraton, our usual hotel, the only available room was US$690 per night. The Hilton, where my two-day meeting would be, was full. All other hotels near Hilton were full -- and all other hotels far from it. "I've called 10 hotels," my travel agent wailed over the phone in panic. "Patay ako sa overseas calls."

Finally the travel agency found Shangri-La. The room rate quoted was higher than I remembered my room last February to be, and more expensive than our standard hotels. But hell, the office wants me here. So I give the travel agency the go-signal.

So back to today. Before my 6 PM flight, I have a full day of field work, which leaves me sweaty and drained. At the last minute before leaving for the airport, I realize that I didn't have my e-ticket. At the airport, I snap at a line-jumper entering immigration. In line at immigration, an officemate just won't shut up, not taking the hint from my non-stop texting that I'm not interested in chatting. And in the taxi from Changi to the hotel, I'm victimized by yet another nonsensical incessant talker in the form of a Malaysian taxi driver. (More on that in another entry.)

I was exhausted. As much as I'd enjoyed the flight (my first on Singapore Airlines -- more on that in another entry too), I was starting to feel feverish.

Which was why I was so happy when the taxi pulled up in the Shangri-La driveway. I was SO ready to kick off my shoes, take a nice shower, and go to sleep.

It was 10:30 PM. I walked up to the front desk and half-jokingly asked, "I hope you've held the booking."

The lady at the desk checked, smiled, and said, "Yes, it's still here."

But then, she handed me back my passport and credit card and, gesturing to another lady, said, "You're checked in under the Horizon Club. Grace will accompany you to check in."

Horizon Club? What was that? Was there a problem?

I asked Grace where we were going as she led me to the elevator. "The Horizon Club is the hotel's exclusive club." And went on to explain that the Horizon Club had its own check-in on the 24th floor, plus an exclusive breakfast area, free access to the Horizon Club lounge and to the business center, free cocktails in the evening, free internet in the room... I wasn't really listening anymore, I was still trying to digest that I was part of anything exclusive.

The elevator door opened on the 24th, revealing a fancy lounge full of important-looking Caucasians. To the right is the Horizon Club's front desk.

Linda checks me in and leads me to the elevator; my room is on the 20th floor. The 20th floor hallway looks just like the hallway leading to my room last time. Okay, I think to myself, Horizon Club is just about the privileges. The room's the same.

Not so, as I realize when Linda opens the door and I make no effort whatsoever to hide my drop-jawed amazement. What a hick, Linda must have thought as she looked at me, gawking at this room in faded collared shirt and jeans and sneakers, smelling of a day of fieldwork in the Manila heat, and with a backpack to complete the image that was nothing at all like those important Caucasians on the 24th. But she smiled pleasantly, maybe even amusedly, thanked me for choosing to stay at the Shangri-La, and left.

And the rest you already know.

Several thoughts as I sit here now, still in my stinky clothes, still with my luggage unpacked, still pinching myself that this is happening, but without any trace of an impending fever. First train of thought is ethics: What did I do to deserve this? Is it fair? Am I getting spoiled? Second is justice: it's only right, after putting me through two yakkers in the span of a few hours, God is fair. Third is mush: I wish James were here, and I only hope the next time the office sends me to Singapore only the Horizon Club rooms will be available. And fourth is good ol' gratitude: as much as P&G frustrates and infuriates and exhausts me sometimes, I can't deny that being with this company has given me incredible experiences I never would have been able to afford (or at least, never cared to pay for) myself.

And now, having articulated this unforgettable mix of awe, wonder and thankfulness, I can now unpack my bags, get settled, and start soaking in four days in this gift of an experience.