For example, I had a lousy flight on Singapore Airlines to Bangkok this evening. I was sandwiched in the middle seat, seated next to a Thai boy-girl who never stopped twitching while playing games on his-her iPad – a gadget addict if I ever saw one, and I should know.

The IFE didn’t work. They ran out of newspapers. I couldn’t read my Kindle – so I understand that in the US, the FAA is reconsidering lifting restrictions on use of devices such as Kindles and iPads on takeoff and landing and I hope this will take globally because I really don’t understand how an ebook reader can interfere with aircraft navigation systems.

But because I had steeled myself for a lower-than-average experience – the online booking on SIA’s website still sucks and it messed up my seat selection – I wasn’t too disappointed.

I then took my time walking to immigration because, given how the media’s been writing about it, I was expecting long queues. Lo and behold, for the first time in several visits to Bangkok, an orderly scene awaited.

There were ushers making sure people had filled out their forms and were in the right queue. It took me all of 10 minutes to get through immigration. I am glad Bangkok is doing something about the first welcome visitors have of the country.

In the car taking me to the hotel, the driver turned to me and said, “Sorry, miss, it will take an hour tonight.”

“So long?” I asked, and daring to take a guess. “Traffic?”

“Yes, very bad.”

Well, we got to the Lebua at State Tower in 20 minutes, more or less. I didn’t even notice that we had arrived because, as I was expecting a long ride, I was chatting on the phone. Yes, I still have friends who prefer to talk rather than IM.

At check-in, I went through the motions – passport and credit card. A girl shows me up to my room. She is on auto-pilot. She doesn’t use my name or make eye contact, just rattles off instructions – take this lift, insert key card, how she’d taken 10,000 baht off my credit card, two choices for breakfast, dress code for club, free minibar (whoopee) – when did hotels get into this sort of information overload at check-in – and then she pushes a form in front of me.

“Please sign,” she said.

“What’s this?”

“A balcony waiver form.”

“A what?”

“If you sign, we will open the door.”

“What if I don’t?”

“Then we keep the door locked.”

“Has anyone fallen or jumped?”

“No. This is why we want to prevent this,” she said, straight-faced.

I signed because by now I am absolutely dying to look at the view. Now that I have high expectations of. I am after all on the 56th floor overlooking one of the world’s great madding cities.

Okay, I wasn’t disappointed with the view and have to say, it’s been a good day, thanks to low expectations.

(Pictured: The view I signed away my life for, pretty stunning)