Things like this do not happen to nerdy bagpipers, but then again it did, so I guess it does. I am here in Singapore on business. I am tired, just off the flight and standing in line to check in at my hotel. This woman whom I’ve never met hands me a guava juice and welcomes me to Singapore. I assume that she works here. “Thank you, “ says I. We discuss that this is my first time here and blah, blah, blah. She leads me to the desk where this lovely lady tells me that they are upgrading me to a suite. “Thank you, that’s lovely,” says I. I then think, “Ah a couch and a coffee table in addition to the bed, that’s nice.” I go up to my floor. It is the top floor. I put the plastic key into my door. It is the corner door. I open the door. I cannot see a bed. All I see is an exploding birds of paradise arrangement in my entryway. Slightly to my left is my living room with giant TV and fresh flowers and chocolates. To my right is my dining room with dining table for 8 with full kitchen and servant’s entrance. In between is my patio with gas BBQ and zen fountain. I start to shake. They have clearly mistaken me for Madonna. It is too much. I walk all the way through this palace with a balcony in every room to my bedroom. My bed is out of focus; it is miles away. There is another living room set-up and a desk as big as a small boat. My bed is a throne for some sort of lazy tyrant. In between finding this too much, I start to...