Rich People Problems-Kwan 2017 (WWT)

CHAPTER TWELVE
CHANGI AIRPORT, SINGAPORE
As Nick pushed his luggage cart into the arrival hall of Terminal 3, he saw a familiar face
holding up a sign that read PROFESSOR NICHOLAS YOUNG, ESQ, PHD. Most people at the airport
would have figured the guy with the sign—clad in a faded yellow ACS tank top, navy blue
Adidas jogging pants, and flip-flops—as some surfer bum hired to be a substitute driver
and not the heir to one of Singapore’s biggest fortunes.
“What are you doing here?” Nick said, hugging his best friend Colin Khoo.
“You haven’t been back since 2010. I wasn’t going to let you arrive without a proper
greeting party,” Colin said cheerily.
“Look at you! Tan as ever and rockin’ that man bun! What does your father think of
this look?”
Colin grinned. “He detests it. He says I look like an opium addict, and if this was the
1970s and I arrived at Changi Airport, Lee Kuan Yew would personally come down to
Immigration, grab me by the ear, drag me to the nearest Indian barbershop, and have me
shaved botak!” *1
They took the glass elevators down to Level B2, where Colin’s car was parked.
“What are you driving these days? Is this a Porsche Cayenne?” Nick asked as Colin
helped him to load his luggage into the back of the SUV.
“No, this is the new 2016 Macan. It’s not actually out yet until March, but they let me
have this special test driver.”
“Sweet,” Nick said, opening the passenger-side door. There was a cashmere wrap on the
seat.
“Oh, just throw that in the back. That’s Minty’s. She freezes whenever she rides up
front. She sends her love, by the way—she’s in Bhutan at her mother’s resort, doing a
meditation retreat.”
“Sounds nice. You didn’t want to join her?”
“Nah, you know how my brain works. I’m totally ADHD—can’t meditate for the life of
me. My form of meditation these days is Muay Thai boxing,” Colin said as he backed out
of the parking spot at what felt like sixty miles per hour.