I’ll admit it without trying to sound like an arrogant prick: I’m blessed in the looks department. Ever since my NS days, I’ve had people telling me I look like those poster boys on the RS AF recruitment banners. Because of that, I developed this massive dream. I wanted to be a Singapore Airlines pilot. I didn’t just want to fly; I wanted the whole package. I used to look at myself in the mirror and literally visualize walking through Changi Airport Terminal 3, looking absolutely sharp in that crisp white uniform, captain’s cap on, captain bars on my shoulders, turning heads while pulling a sleek cabin bag. I wanted that prestige, that cool factor, the ultimate Singaporean dream career.
But reality gave me a massive wake-up call. I applied. Multiple times. Let’s just say after the rigorous screening processes, medicals, and interviews, I didn’t make the cut. Turns out, looking the part doesn’t mean you have the aptitude for it. The rejection stung badly. I felt like a total fraud—all the looks but none of the actual substance to back it up.
Fast forward a couple of years, and I ended up working in the nightlife industry. I’m currently a bar host at a pretty popular upscale lounge in town. It pays the bills, the tips are great, and my looks actually work to my advantage here since my job is basically to keep our female clientele entertained, happy, and buying drinks.
But here comes the absolute joke of my life. Tonight is a special thematic event at our bar. The theme? “Fly Me to the Moon.”
Management literally went out and bought high-quality costume replicas of airline pilot uniforms for all the male hosts. Right now, I am standing in the staff changing room, looking at myself in the mirror. I’m wearing the white shirt, the tie, the trousers, and the shoulder epaulets. I look exactly like the SIA pilot I always fantasized about being.
In about ten minutes, I’m going to step out onto the floor, flash my best smile, and pour expensive champagne for tables of screaming women who will be swooning over how “cool” I look in the uniform.
It’s hilarious and tragic all at once. I never got to command an Airbus A350, but hey, at least I get to complete my dream in another way, right? Tonight, I’m the captain of this bar. Ladies, please fasten your seatbelts.