We live in times where even cup noodles is a luxury on a meal-less budget flight. And a first-class meal? Unfathomable decadence for most folks. The closest we’ve been to a breakable plate on a plane is hearing the clink of cutlery against it through a thick curtain, which  separates our economy-class ticket-holding self from the first-class suites.

But Covid-19 has since scuppered everyone’s travel plans. We even start to miss the irritating guy kicking the back of our seat on an SQ flight. When we will ever again hear our national carrier’s Singapore Girl, dressed in a Pierre Balmain-designed sarong kerbaya, asking us: “Chicken or fish?”

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