Bejing in 1 hour?

Well yes, here I am, back in Singapore. I wondered if I should blog this time, but as usual, Day 1 and I think: I totally need to blog this...
I am now in the Amara Hotel, where they have upgraded me to a Tropical 6 room, which is on the same floor as the pool and gym, has hardwood floors and high ceilings, but windows start at 7 feet up, and there are no long strings to open the curtains, so i have hardwood floors but no natural light. Upgrades continue to amaze me. The roti man recognized me this morning at the breakfast buffet and made me 2 roti with which I ate my egg and spread my lovely Boursin cheese onto. My friend Chad picked me up last night and then we scooted over to Lau Pha Sat (big food court) to pick me up something to eat, I was starving and dying of thirst. It was so nice to see his kind face at the airport, to be recognized at the hotel and to know my way around a bit. Makes business travel so much more fun.
The main thing I wanted to blog about today, though, was my funny experience at the Beijing Airport yesterday. Chad was convinced I was going to get stuck in China, but no, in spite of my bare minimum 1 hour connection, I did make the flight. (Carry on only, for those who are wondering if my luggage made it...)Transferring in airports is always a bit interesting, as every airport is different. I hear transferring at my home airport in Toronto is, in a word, stupid. I apologize now to all in transit passengers on behalf of my city planners.
When I disembark from the Boeing 777 in front of me is a counter that says "international transfers". Three people are working the desk, but no one is moving. After a few moments, a gentleman shows up who instructs those of us with boarding passes to go straight to our left and then down one level to our gates. Great. Well, around the corner to the left is the immigration hall, which is PACKED with probably close to 1000 people, lined up in at least 10 lines and packed from the "wait at this line" yellow line to the back wall. A solid mass of people. I'm standing there, looking for something that tells me where I am supposed to be. Way at the far end of the hall is a sign that says "International Transfers". Hmmm. And so, in good Canadian form, I make my way through the mass of humans with a "'scuse me, pardon me, 'scuse me..." The seas part, one person at a time. At one point I look behind me and realize that I have some followers. The gentleman looks at me as says, "KEEP GOING!!!". I smile and plow through.
When we are spit out at the other end, a short 10 person line await us for our connecting flights. The man behind me thanks me for blazing the way, and we chat while we wait for the facial recognition technology to process our actual pictures against our passport pictures via immigration (very interesting technology, must research it more...).
Lessons learned:

• When I say excuse me, I want you to move. Having me roll my bag over your feet is your own fault.
• Look far away to find the place you need to be.
• Brush your teeth before you get off a 20 hour flight, just in case a friend surprises you at the other end.