15: THE DEVIL WEARS PRATA (DISCOURTESY IS A MANY BRANDED THING)

People are so into branded stuff these days. Just this evening, I overheard a conversation between two young ladies on the MRT which ended with one of them announcing petulantly, for the benefit of all and sundry, “I WOULDN’T BE CAUGHT DEAD  WITH AN UNBRANDED HANDBAG!” Then with a shrug, and a flick of her branded curls, she made a dramatic exit at Ang Mo Kio, her Elvee (they all looked like Elvees to me) swinging at my face.

As the saying goes – if you can’t beat them, join them. So this is where I tell you, and I confess, that I have been into branded stuff all my life. My T-shirts, sleeveless in Penang, THREE LEGS RUNNING. My school shoes, MESTI TAHAN, (Malay for "Lasting") and my watch, WINGO.  Even my towels are branded. My towels, well, my towels, GOOD MORNING.

No, not wishing you Good Morning. That was the only brand  everyone, who is anyone, uses. Back in those days,  I WOULDN’T BE CAUGHT DEAD WITHOUT IT.

They don’t make them like they do before – cheap and good. Nowadays, a handbag can set you back 100k. Called a “Bear-Skin” or something  like that. Apparently, the wife of a high official in a neigbouring state has a collection. How many bears have they killed? Sigh. Animal Conservation groups, where are you?

Then there’s Cursting Tall. I cursed  the first time I saw a Cursting Tall evening gown adorning  the exquisite figure of a 7 foot tall mannequin. They must be mad. Where in the world can they find a woman who is 7 foot tall? I was curious and walked up to the mannequin and stuck a thumb tack into it and a 6 ft 6 inches, with a pair of 6 inches stiletto) screamed and started chasing me. I was young (11), good looking but never been chased by a woman of that proportion before.  I developed a phobia for any female creature big and tall. And I stopped growing. Still considering a multi-million suit against Cursting Tall.

 And Gushee. Everyone owns a Gushee. Including MM who boasted that hers didn’t come  from  Patpong. I know. A friend of a friend who accidentally divulged a dark secret in her presence bribed her so that she will keep her Mighty Mouth shut. Which means that secret is not a secret any more.

There are brands I cannot pronounce, much less spell. I once saw a poster advert which showed  a watch that could have cost me 40 months salary (before CPF). I think it was an Alamak Piglet. Stupid people. I rather buy 1000 piglets and start farming if I had that kind of money.

Chopapart. What a name! Or maybe it was just what it says. It can be chopped into two, and like what they say in tai-chi, you take one part and I take one part, when the marriage falls apart. Bad omen brand, if you ask me.

Which brings me to my favorite person. It is strange that any mention of "bad omen" and my creative juices start flowing. I was told that when she was a young woman, my MIL was into branded stuff too. She could not afford branded watches and other accessories. So she splurged on branded make-up. She started with Seeshadow until one day a blind date dropped her like a ton of bricks after telling her that her shadow looks better then herself in person. She switched to Elizabeth Harden. What a waste, spending all that money on a product like that when she already has a natural hard look.

When she turned 65 for the 20^th times (at least) she had the nerve to ask me to take her shopping for “something suitable” at the Hour Glass. She must be mad.  I don’t know what they sell at the Hour Glass. I don’t intend to find out. But I did tell her politely that I will take her to the Hour Glass when she has a figure like one. She has no sense of humor at all. And I still have a black eye to prove it.

At long last, after years of coaxing, she agreed to celebrate her 66 birthday.   So as usual, I humored that woman “What shall I get for you, mother?”

And mother asked for something unbelievable. Unfathomable. Indescribable. For once, I relented. I gave in. Please the old lady. Make her happy.

So, for her birthday, I ordered 250 roti pratas from Seletar. She now have to put her sewing skills to work. Maybe, just maybe, on her birthday, I will finally get to see 
THE DEVIL WEARS PRATA!

(14) DISCOURTESY AT THE BUFFET

Okay, okay. I will disgrace myself and talk about how Singaporeans behave at a buffet. This eat all you can thingy is getting to me.  And if my MIL chanced upon this post, readers please honor me posthumously for my courage and dedication to tell the truth and nothing but the truth.

I was brought up not to wash dirty linens in public. But dirty linens need washing, publicly or otherwise. Otherwise they smell.

The Community Club (CC)  organized  a buffet at this very exclusive place called  the Compressed Rose, housed in one of those posh luxury hotel. Although this was quite some years back, the per head charge for each “CC” member was a whopping $25++. And we were told that this was the opportunity of a lifetime for “heartlanders”  like us to experience how the towners live! We were told that this high end buffet was heavily subsidized by the Ministry of Social Development. Sort of  a social experiment, giving heartlanders a  chance to taste the good life for a song. No kidding. If it was heavily subsidized why do I still have to pay $25 per head? I decided not to go. I have better use for $25 ++ x 5 (assuming of course I don’t have to pay for my MIL).  I will not pay for her. FULL STOP. As man of the house, I have decided. FULL STOP AGAIN.

The  woman of the house took away my full stops. She came into the living room pouting.  I could have hung a shopping basket from her stiff upper lips. I said “NO!” before she even started talking. She said her mother insisted. I looked passed her into the kitchen. There she was, her mother, my nemesis. I wished this arch enemy a well-deserved promotion to an archangel. I simply love her to death.

The woman of the house repeated “Yes, your arch enemy insisted.” That woman in the kitchen was wearing her wicked smile. That was all it took for me to change my mind. I am a sucker for wicked smiles.  I also recall the pain of ignoring her wicked smiles.

A calculator on which some numbers have been punched was pushed to my face. I promptly coughed up $25 ++ (x 6). I am not a petty man. Times 5. Times 6.  The only difference between the two numbers is a broken leg.  Or a black eye. I don’t intend to go to the Compressed Rose with either.

So we were gathered together at the CC properly dressed – which simply meant “No slippers!” My MIL was carrying her new oversized Gushi bag.  Very matching. No, not with her clothes, with her big mouth.

There must be at least 30 of us on the bus. Blackie with wife and 4 kids in tow. Sans MIL. Lucky Blackie - his MIL was  promoted to an archangel in Chapter 2. Apoo could be seen all over the place, yakity yak yak. Non -stop. We ignored each other. I have not forgiven him since Chapter 4 – that traitor told all the neighbors….oh, never mind. Dandy the CB could be seen and heard, telling everyone of his last trip to the Compressed Rose. He announced, for the benefit of all and sundry “Aiya, $25 very cheap. The buffet cost at least $80 you know! The oysters alone already worth $25."

And then Blackie chipped in “The pan-fried fai kua is simply out of this world.” I was  puzzled. What in the world is “fai kua”?

And there we were, 30 of us, queuing for the lift to the 65^th floor of this very tall posh building with Apoo shouting excitedly “We are going to the 65^th floor. Never been  up so high before. This place must be at least 65 storey high!” He is such an embarrassment to the people of Ang Mo Kio.

I somehow got split up from my family. Or maybe they abandoned me. I was relegated to the second car. When I stepped out onto the 65^th, we were directed to 3 specially arranged long tables on which were tent cards announcing the special arrangements for the heart-landers from AMK CC paying a subsidized rate for this buffet.  I could see Mighty Mouth and my wife  being fawned over by Apoo.  Traitors all! They knew I wasn’t talking to that man.

And Dandy shouted “Eh, you all better go and queue for the food! The oysters and crayfish disappear fast fast loh!” I cringed, realizing that everyone else was looking at us. Suddenly he turned to me “Wah, you very smart. Your three kids already stationed at 3 different buffet tables! They got future.”

To my horror he was right! But my kids were not alone. Apoo’s kids were there too and so was Blackie’s. I saw the same wicked smile on Mighty Mouth’s face and concluded that she was behind the arrangements. I wanted to go and get my three kids back, for goodness sake, but MM hissed at me. Which meant I was to stay put. An important looking well-dressed man then started to explain the arrangements but before he finished, everyone started rushing. Dandy’s voice was the loudest “I go for the seafood first!” And Blackie joined in “Fai kua here I come. Fai kua here I come.” I was so very embarrassed. After some pushing and shoving I found myself behind 3 neighborhood aunties at the “hot food” table,  using their hands to sample everything and gushing excitedly “Wah! Shiok man!”

Embarrassment  was an understatement. The three aunties were still munching away, piling up their plates (two each) with whatever was in sight. I threw caution to the air. I had to – firstly there was no wind. Secondly, as the aunties were passing the food dishes between them, the only way to get some was from the pieces flying around in the air. If you can’t beat them, join them. So I took two serving plates. But the food were disappearing fast. I found myself with a plate of steamed rice and two pieces of duck. The other plate was fried rice, two miserable looking shrimp sitting at the plateau. And the three aunties declared generously “Let’s go. Don’t take anymore! Must leave some for the people behind!” I was bewildered. Where did all the food go? Surely those six plates…and that was when I froze. They were carrying the same over-sized Gushi bag as MM. Don’t tell me………………

And that was when we heard a loud but very calm voice speaking “Sorry, our first batch of pan-fried foie gras has been taken by that gentleman. Please be patient. Second batch will be ready in 30 minutes!”

And that was when I heard Blackie boasting “There, I told you. The fai kua very popular one. Must queue first. Luckily I was fast.” Ah, the pan fried fai kua. Must be Singlish for foie gras. Someone mentioned this on Facebook just a few days back. Someone from El Paso. But she was referring  to The Compass Rose. Dandy told me we were going to The Compressed Rose. Oops!

I went back to my table with my two miserable plates only to be met by my loving family, including my dear MIL and on the table was a spread of smoked salmon, cold seafood platters, at least a dozen oysters. And even a small plate of fai kua, courtesy of Blackie. We had a good time. And lived off the Gushi bag for one whole week. Our neighbors, the three aunties lived off theirs for two. Three weeks later the Compressed Rose closed for business. Permanently. Too bad – I was looking forward to spending another $25 ++ x 6!

CHAPTER 13: DISCOURTESY ON THE ROAD (PART 2)

The world should know that Singapore is not just a fine city. It is also a clean city. And if you don’t keep it clean, they fine you. And if the fines don’t work,  they use Corrective Work Orders. For the benefit of the many who react with a “Correct Work Order? What in the world…” let me explain. Simple philosophy. If you litter, you are fined. You pay for your littering to be cleaned up. But if you continue to litter again and again, that means paying fine does not work. Most people money no enough. You got money too plenty. So you go, on a given public holiday, to help clean the park. They don’t care whether you are Mr. Somebody or Mrs. Rich. You will go and the television crew will follow. And shame you. Does it work?

‘

Consider the following television interview of this supposedly Mrs. Rich when she was cleaning the park one hot Sunday under a CWC. She was one of those caught throwing cigarette butts from their cars. Then you tell me if it works.

TV Interviewer:      Madam, what was your offence?

Mrs. Rich::           I offended an NEA Officer; I shouted at him for wasting my time   and told him to speak to my lawyers.

TV Interviewer:     Oh, but what exactly did you do to be slapped with a CWC?

Mrs. Rich:             No, lah, they didn’t slap me lah.  They dare to slap me I sue them till their pants drop and they go bankrupt.

TV Interviewer:    Let me rephrase that. What did you do to be asked to perform   CWC?

Mrs. Rich:             Oh, I see. Well, they caught me throwing a cigarette butt out of my car.

TV Interviewer:    And how many times were you caught before they served you  with the CWC notice?

Mrs. Rich:             Three times only lah; I must have thrown cigarette butts out of the car hundreds of times but I think they are blind. They only caught me three times. So I am considered very lucky lor!

TV Interviewer:     Why didn’t you throw it into a small container first?

Mrs. Rich:            I have one in the car but no time to search for it; it was in my limited edition Gushee bag somewhere. Also I was driving so don’t expect me to search for it, right? Also very dangerous you know? Anyway, it was my driver’s fault. He went on emergency leave so I had to drive myself  lor. Must sack him. By the way, you can introduce a good driver to me or not?

TV Interviewer:    Oh, what about a part time driver? What is the pay like? I ……….. Oops, sorry, this is Alphonse Mistakang reporting live from East Coast Parkway. Madam, why didn’t you stop the car somewhere and take out the container from your limited edition Gushee?

Mrs. Rich:             Waste time only; I was in a hurry to close a very very big business deal so don’t expect me to stop, right? Anyway, I thought I kena  fined only; any amount I can also afford to pay.  How do I know I kena CWC instead?

TV Interviewer:    Why didn’t you just put the cigarette butt into your car ashtray first?

Mrs. Rich:             You crazy ah? Why should I dirty my brand new BMW? I pay so much road tax let them clean the road lah! Eh, when will this be aired? Must tell my kakis to watch leh. Today I am carrying my new Elvie handbag. See, so expensive looking, right? This one also limited edition; got money also cannot buy anymore.

I rest my case.

Discourtesy on the road is not the exclusive privilege of car drivers only. Pedestrians have their fair share, especially jay walkers.  For some inexplicable reasons, the part of Orchard Road from CK Tang to Paragon has most jaywalkers.  They cross the road at  whichever point they like, whenever they like. And if drivers have the audacity to express their frustration by honking at them, they will either glare  back aggressively or give them the thumbs up – with their middle finger. Really!

Consider the following television interview of a jay walker caught in the act:-

TV Interviewer:    This is Alphonse Mistakang reporting live from Orchard. I have with me this lady who was caught jay walking by the traffic police a short while ago. Good morning  madam. So they threw the book at you for jay walking?

Jay Walker:          No lah, they didn’t throw anything at me. They dare to throw anything at me, I will throw it back for sure. I used to be a tennis player you know? They used to call me the Sharapova of Singapore! Do you want to know why?

TV Interviewer:    Of course, madam, er, why did they call you the Sharapova of Singapore? Because you were the best?

Jay Walker:          No, la. Because I could scream louder than Sharapova anytime! You want to hear me scream?

TV Interviewer:    Er, no, not now. Thank you. We are live on TV. Let me ask you again. So, they gave you a ticket for jay walking?

Jay Walker:           No, thank you very much. If I want to jay walk, I will buy my own ticket. I can afford to pay any amount.

TV Interviewer:    Let me try one more time. They fined you for jay walking?

Jay Walker:           Oh, yes, they fined me. So stupid. Fining someone for crossing the road in a hurry. I already told them I was in a hurry that was why I ran across from Wisma Atria to Lucky Plaza. Next time I cross slow slow.

TV Interviewer:    So how much was the compound?

  

Jay Walker:           Oh, you very clever, you. How did you know my house got a big compound? No, I don’t know how much the compound cost. I bought it with the house. Very lucky, I bought at the right time. Just before…

TV Interviewer:    Sorry, madam, I mean, how much was the fine?

  

Jay Walker:          Oh, the fine. I forgotten la. They want me to pay on the spot. I gave them my Century card. Their eyes grew so big. Never seen a Century card before I think. They say I can pay online. So I don’t know how much. You want to see my Century card or not? Only 100 people in Singapore got this card that's why they call it a Century card. Vary rate.

TV Interviewer:    Oh, no, it’s ok. We are live on television. Last question, if you please. Do you think you will jay walk again?

Jay Walker:          Of course la, just pay a fine then you get to appear live on TV. So cheap. Next week, if you come again, I will make sure I kena fine so  you can interview me with my new bearskin Hermessy? So expensive. I ordered three years ago only deliver next Monday so Tuesday I sure jay walk again.

TV Interviewer:     Madam, you mean birkin, right?

Jay Walker:            Yes, yes, you clever, very few people knows about bearskin messy handbag. 

Suddenly Madam Jay Walker stopped, looked at the TV interviewer and then went all excited:

Jay Walker:       I remember you now. No wonder you looked familiar! You interviewed me at East Coast Parkway when I volunteered to clean the park! You are Mr. Mistaken!

TV Interviewer:     No, no, you are mistaken, I am not mistaken, I  mean my name is                                   not "Mistaken";  it is  Mistakang. And you didn’t volunteer…

Jay Walker:           Mr. Kang? But you don’t look very Chinese leh!  Or maybe Chinese father, right? By the way, you still interested to be my part time driver or not?

Sigh, I rest my case again. And will get off the road for good.

 CHAPTER 12: HOW ABOUT DISCOURTESY ON THE ROAD? (PART 1)

“The road to Heaven is paved!” Yes,   so is the road to hell! And no road is paved so well as the roads in Singapore.  This ensures a smooth ride to your destination, be it Heaven or Hell.

If you are a new driver in Singapore, having obtained your driving license after the 5 tries (6 for CCB,  8 and still counting for  Blackie) you are required to display a “P” sign on your rear screen so that other road users will give you due consideration. Hopefully. And because you are still not that confident yet, you also wish they give you more space. Hopefully. And that they will be kind and not honk at you unnecessarily to make you more nervous than you already are. Hopefully.

STOP HOPING! NOTHING COULD BE FURTHER FROM THE TRUTH. REALLY ONE!

Even what the “P” stands for is a classified secret. CB thinks it is “Probationary”. Blackie insisted it means “Professional” For someone who failed his driving test 8 times, I think he is either naïve or stupid. Or both.  If he ever gets a driving license, “P” will stand for “Pest”. But as I am still not on talking terms with him, ever since he told everyone in the neighborhood I was the uncle in the YouTube which went viral showing a man trying to grab ahem something. He is a traitor and I wish him continued failure in his future driving tests.

Anyway, a “P” driver driving slowly but have somehow got into the right outermost lane, will be honked till thy kingdom come. Then they will overtake you, and as they do, they put out one hand to convey their warmest regards. Don’t try to interpret. You may either blush or become so nervous  you will definitely cause an accident.

Once in a while you will meet a kind soul. He doesn’t honk at you. He waits patiently and then when it is safe, he overtakes. And as he overtakes, he puts out a hand to give you the thumb’s up. Except that the thumb is not up. The middle finger is. Courtesy on the road. Sigh.

Nothing excites  Singapore drivers more than the siren of an ambulance!  Provided they are not in it, of course! They slow down respectfully so that the ambulance can overtake them. The minute they are overtaken, they start chasing – like ambulance chasers do. So don’t be surprised if the driver is from the legal profession. Or one of their touts!

Road accidents also create excitement for road users for another reason. They slow down, take photos of the registration plates of the vehicles involved. They cause massive jams in the process. Why? Why? You asking me why? TO PLACE BETS ON THE BLOODY 4D, THAT’S WHY. And if they are unable to see the registration plates they become very imaginative.

 So let me tell you what happened to Apoo on one occasion. It was a Saturday and he called me at home out of the blue, shouting “Eh KK!  Please ask your Mighty Mouth what is the 4D number for  tortoise.”  I started to ask him  what it was all about but he wasn’t listening. “Just get me the number lah, please! I am on a bus, okay?” So I shouted to Mighty Mouth who  shouted back in one second flat, and loud enough for Apoo to hear without my having to repeat! “2975 big tortoise,  2678  small tortoise”  and giving me the once over she added “2895 short  tortoise!” She is  amazing! She  remembers everything, just like an elephant!  I  hope she remembers that she is going to get elephantiasis very soon!

Apoo responded “Aiya, why so many types of tortoises. I will just buy the big tortoise lah!”

Tortoises big or small, tall or short, did not appear on the list of  winning numbers of that evening’s draw. First prize for that draw was  “9432” ! Apoo came over to my place that evening  and MM, who was in a good mood, asked him “Aiya, Apoo, why did you buy the number for tortoise? You saw a tortoise is it? I also bought the same number you know. But I also bought turtle just in case you see wrong.” She then smiled her wicked smile as she waited for the next question and I waited for my heart attack. Something has gone very wrong.

Apoo asked the question “First prize number, auntie, 9432, what number is that?” And the auntie, my torturer, my MIL, my nemesis, she replied “TURTLE”.

And Apoo replied “Aiya, Aunty, I saw an accident and this car turned tortoise so I buy the number for tortoise lor!”

I nearly killed him. I really nearly killed him. That stupid idiot. Why didn’t he explain what happened and we would both have won and we would be smiling with my MM as well, who, by the way, didn’t want to tell me how much she struck.

I am going to bed. Maybe have a good cry. But I will never forgive Apoo.

CARS TURN TURTLE, APOO, TURN TURTLE. NOT TORTOISE

CHAPTER 11: DISCOURTESY ON THE BUS

Firstly, I must tell you this story – and for the record, this is not a tall tale. It actually happened many years ago. A friend of mine (and I will not reveal his identity) was queuing for a bus. There was a sweet young lady in front of him. As they were boarding the bus, the  young lady realized her skirt was too tight and she was having  trouble going up the bus so she reached behind her with both hands to unzip and loosen her skirt. After unzipping a little, she attempted to go up the bus again but the skirt was still too tight. So she tried once more, again reaching behind herself with both hands. Unfortunately, it was still an uphill task. As she reached behind  her skirt for the third time, my friend decided to play the good Samaritan and lifted her up the bus with both hands on her waist. She was shocked and turned around screaming “How dare you!” And my friend smiled at her and  calmly replied “Well, as you have unzipped my fly twice already, I thought that was the least I could do for you!” She turned crimson red. There is a happy ending to this episode – they started dating and got married. They had two boys both of whom received specific instructions from their father that they must never help any young lady go up the bus in the same manner. For someone who met his wife that way, I think you would agree with me that CB should be thanking his lucky star, right?  Oops! Did I just let the cat out of the bag?”

Let us get back to the bus.  I assume that you  have mastered the “Horse Stance” as recommended earlier for the MRT ride? If you have, good for you. But I urge you to go for a refresher course because  for the bus ride, you need an even stronger pair of legs.  If you have not, then please avoid taking the bus or do so at your own peril.

Yes, you can expect a bumpier ride on the bus, and also more fights and very, very entertaining conversations. But you will miss contending with passengers rushing in when you are trying to get out. Bus passengers are  more disciplined simply because the bus captains are  always visible and the more experienced ones actually build rapport with  their passengers. Of course, it helps that there is an exit towards the end of the bus and this exit does not permit boarding. Even if you decide to alight  through the front, under the watchful eyes of the bus captains, the  boarding passengers will wait patiently until you are off the bus. Which makes me think – why can’t SMRT experiment with this,  alternate doors for exit and entrance? I better put on record that I “choped” this idea first,  okay?

On your bus ride you will meet with some passengers who think that bus fares are perpetually on promotion – buy one get one free. These passengers take one seat for themselves, and one for whatever they are carrying, big or small. You can stare at them but they don’t care. Unless you have a “built for the kill” body with  intimidating looks to boot, these passengers may give up their second seat, albeit reluctantly.  My MIL don’t have to stare. She just glance at the offending item and it disappears, with the owner patting the seat, cooling it down and offering it to Mighty Mouth, unsolicited.

The morning rush hour “going to work” passengers have behavioral patterns different from that of the evening rush hour “going home” passenger.

The “going to work” passengers are subdued, tight-lipped, fumbling nervously with smart phones/ipads, playing games, biting finger nails etc. etc.

The “I am going home” type of  passengers, on the other hand, are free-spirited, going back to the comfort zones, don’t have to face the boss or worry about work for the next 12 hours, at least. So they let down their hair, listen to music, do a bit of pole dancing and talk. Boy, do they talk. Loose tongues and loud voice – as you will learn, is a nasty combination:

I recorded this conversation on a bus ride  

First young man: Are you still dating Daisy?

Second young man: Oh, no! That was ages ago! I  dumped her….no, I shouldn’t say that – we broke up  and I was  going out with a girl named Rose for a couple of months but that didn’t work out either. I am now dating Lily.

First young man: What happened with Daisy?

Second young man: She wilted. Also she was very into gourmet food and expects me to take her to expensive restaurants all the time.  Not that I cannot afford it but I prefer girls who rather cook a simple meal for me occasionally.

First young man: I thought Daisy took you   to meet her mother?

Second young man: Ya lor! And that was when I suddenly realized  she had wilted – Daisy I mean. Her mother probably wilted decades ago. Anyway,  nowadays, if I am still interested  after a couple of dates, I make it a point to meet  the mother so that I can decide if we should continue………

First young man: So I take it you have met Lily’s mother?

Second young man: Oh, yes, I like her very much. She is both deaf and dumb.

Great minds think alike, young man, you do have a bright future. I wished I had that foresight when I was your age but I am not one to cry over spilt milk. Nevertheless,  I hasten to add that you are a little bit wet behind your ears!  I suggest you see a psychiatrist – you may have a flower fetish. By the way, my mother-in-law used to be called “Frangipani” when she was young. Let me know when your Lily has wilted; I will introduce you to Fangie!

Then there are commuters who shout into their mobile phones  to the consternation of some fellow commuters and the delight of the  rest a.k.a. .busybodies. I am not one of the busybodies – I  don’t eavesdrop. In any case, eavesdropping isn’t required, not when they speak at 1000 decibels and practically  making announcements to whoever wants to listen. It so happened that I was  standing  next to this lady  who was probably delighted to have me  record her conversation  which is  reproduced below for your entertainment:-

Lady Gossiper: Rose! Glad I managed to get hold of you! Wanted to tell you I dumped you know who! So glad to get rid of him. You won’t believe this but I think he was just putting on a show. All the talks about him being very well paid and coming from a rich family is just hot air.

Pause

He expects me to eat at food courts all the time and even had the gall to suggest I cook for him! What does he take me for? A maid? So I dropped him like a hot potato!

Pause

No, no, that’s not true. I was the one asked for the break up, of course! In my entire life, I have never been dumped. I am always the one to do the dumping! I can swear if you don’t believe me!  Who told you that?

Pause

Oh, that Lily! Of course she will tell everyone that her new boyfriend dumped me for her. Otherwise, she will lose face for picking up that piece of trash which I  already throw one. Of course I dumped him first. Anyway, if  she continues to gossip about me I am going to give her one tight slap!”

I got off the bus. She looked like she was getting ready to give someone, anyone, a tight slap.

CHAPTER 10: DISCOURTESY ON THE MRT (PART 3 & REALLY FINAL PART)

Okay, let us end this journey today, if it is the last thing I ever do.  SMRT is still trying to nail me somehow for my constant grumblings about the rumblings on their trains.

So there I was, enjoying my seat, courtesy of the young man who stood up for Singapore, and no thanks to the young man whose heart I couldn’t touch.

And I was nodding off when another young man just a few seats from me suddenly stood up and said in the most pleasant way possible “Madam, you can have my seat.” So I was expecting madam to give the neighborhood an uplift but instead she started ranting loudly in her already very loud voice “You think I am pregnant izzit? Or maybe you think I am old? How dare you!! Your parents never teach you to respect other people izzit? No bloody manners!” And with that, she folded her arms, pointed her flat nose skywards – like a spoiled child.

I was shocked. Everyone was shocked. And the whole of Singapore would have been shocked too if the YouTubers were doing their job! The young man’s face turned crimson. He mumbled “Sorry, sorry” and as soon as the train stopped, he scooted. That is one young man who will not stand up for Singapore again. As least not on the MRT.

And therein lies another problem with Singaporeans – not knowing how to accept kindness and courtesy in a graceful manner.

And she shocked us again for as soon as the embarrassed young man scooted, she took the seat, sat down on her ample bottom and I was nudged at least an inch and a half into my corner. And that was from three seats away! She  then dramatically produced her mobile, crossed her legs  and I made an equally dramatic effort to get up from my seat, and hobbled with my nose up in the air  for a neighborhood with more class. And so did three others seated in the same row, bless their hearts.  The intended message was, however, not conveyed. The seats were snapped up by other passengers who were waiting for such opportunities like vultures. Sigh.

I always  plan ahead. And this  time, my plan was to claim joint-ownership of a grab pole currently “grabbed” only by one young lady. Ample space for holding on for dear  life beckons. But unfortunately, she was not grabbing the pole, she was wrapped around it. Really! But it was intended to safeguard the dignity of at least 6 passengers if the train driver braked suddenly.  So I tapped her gently on the back (gently because I am a gentleman; on her back and not on her shoulders because I, ahem, well, I couldn’t reach her shoulders) and she turned back with such speed and agility, and snapped at me with such venom I thought my MM had possessed her body! “What do you want!”

“I want to grab you…I mean grab  your…your…” She screamed back, loudly for the benefit of all and sundry, at the same time covering her you know what with both her hands “UNCLE, YOU WANT TO GRAB MY WHAT? YOU ARE SICK OR WHAT? “

It was my turn to turn crimson. The whole world was looking at me. I could have single-handedly made our Little Red Dot a shade redder. Instead, I made a weak attempt  to explain I meant I wanted to share the grab pole, that all I wanted was a chance to grab something to keep myself from falling, blah blah blah but Miss Pole Dancer started screaming again “UNCLE, HOW COULD YOU SAY SOMETHING LIKE THAT! YOU LOOK OLD AND SICKLY AND TRY TO GET PITY IZZIT. BUT YOU ARE ACTUALLY A DIRTY OLD MAN!”

Well, I tell you what, ladies and gentlemen. I promised you I will end this longest short trip on the MRT and the opportunist in me decided to end it prematurely, three stops from Ang Mo Kio.

Next time, I will tell you about discourtesy on the bus. It is safer – I think. But don’t expect it anytime soon. Was diagnosed with a rare kind of eye infection. Under doctor’s orders to wear shades around the clock!

And I take back what I said about YouTubers not doing their job well. YOU ARE DOING YOUR JOBS TOO DAMN WELL BUT ONLY WHEN  YOU SHOULDN'T BE! IF I AM RECOGNIZED.....!  

CHAPTER 9: HOLD THE DOOR! CHIVALRY IS ALIVE!

No, I am sorry. I am not ready to continue the journey on the MRT. Not yet. I need a long respite. My battered body needs to recuperate.  So, instead, let me tell you a story about chivalry in Singapore.

Firstly, a question for you. Do you hold the door for the person behind you? Or do you pretend not to know that someone is just right behind? Thank you for your honesty. BUT, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, I am proud to say that chivalry is not dead. Not in Ang Mo Kio anyway.

I happened to be at AMK Mall. From a short distance away, I saw a young man entering one of the shops. Holy cow! He actually held the door open for whoever was coming in behind him, wearing the most charming smile on his face. I wanted to go up to him and chope him with one of the three packets of tissue paper I always keep in my pockets. Just for such rare events. This one is son-in-law material, never mind that my daughter was only 13 at that time. Chope first.

Unfortunately, the person he was holding the door for, about 3 meters away, turned out to be none other than Mighty Mouth, my MIL, the wife's big mama, my nemesis. I changed my mind about him being son-in-law material. He simply had bad taste in women!

MM looked so pleased. No one, but no one, had ever done this for her before. She  quickened her steps towards the door.  And that was when it happened. The most beautiful ending of any story I ever told. For at that point of time, a sweet young thing overtook MM, smiled at my future son-in-law as she entered the shop. And chivalry died! The young man immediately let go of the glass door as soon as his young lady entered the shop. It slammed smack into Mighty Mouth’s face! My heart was in my mouth! And in that split second,  this fine young man became  my hero! But  my new found hero did not realize how perilously close to death he was! This will cost him at least an arm and a leg, literally! I held my breath and prayed for his deliverance. I thought of protecting my future son-in-law, contemplated rushing forward to stand between man and beast – and came to my senses after one second. What’s the point of protecting him if I don’t live to tell the story?

But my prayers were answered. You see, Mighty Mouth caught a glimpse of herself on the glass door and was pleased with her vastly improved looks!

It is strange what a slam in the face by a glass door could do what, in my opinion, even reconstructive surgery couldn’t.


PS: I meant to include my MM's "before & and after" photos following the door slamming incident. But MDA wanted to impose "PG16" rating on both even though my MP intervened, on the grounds that youngsters in Singapore could benefit from fear factors and nightmares, 

CHAPTER 8: DISCOURTESY ON THE MRT (PART 2.5)

Okay, everyone is tired of this very long short ride. So I will really finish this. Otherwise I will be finished.

There I was, inside the packed train, inching my way to the center of the car as instructed constantly by the public address system. “For the convenience of all passengers, please move to the center of the car.” Then I realized I was the only one following that instruction. Everyone else stood their grounds.  And one aspiring stand-up comedian declared “Car? But am I not on a train?” No one laughed. I then realized I wasn't on a train. And certainly not in a car either. It was a zoo!

Passengers on the platform were still pushing their way in, alighting passengers inside the train still pushing their way out. And the public address system issued warnings “Doors closing, doors closing!” And the train doors were the only thing that behaved. It started closing as instructed. One canoodling couple was separated – the girlfriend out  on the platform, screaming hysterically and crying her heart out – as if she was not going to see her love again. The boyfriend, still on the train, oblivious to the  separation, body and limbs wrapped around a grab pole, eyes closed and smiling. I couldn’t take it anymore. I was about to throw up. And the well-trained train driver, ever willing to help make it easier for passengers to throw up, accelerated suddenly.

The long awaited journey has begun.

My eyes darted around at top speed. No seats.  Eyes darted around again and then I saw it!  My lucky day. Must buy 4D. Maybe put $5 on the circumference of Mighty Mouth's mouth. 

Yes, the all precious hand-grip, hanging unclaimed, swinging invitingly. I  gave my body one final push, put my hand upwards to claim my prize – and found myself holding a rough and hairy fist! I wanted to protest that I saw it first, but the  owner of the fist smiled at me and asked “Share share?” No, I rather have a battered body, thank you very much. And as if on cue, the driver braked abruptly again and amidst another round of shrieks and screams, my battered body found itself standing right in front of  a reserved seat, clearly marked for the  pregnant, the aged and  the sick. It was occupied by an obviously able bodied young man, eyes closed tightly, head swaying to the music blaring from his headphone.

I may not be pregnant, my youthful looks may belie my status of senior citizen but my by now contorted body, tremoring to the beat of “Beat It” surely shows I have priority. I grunted to catch his attention. I retched loudly, as if I was going to vomit on his branded attire. My knees touched his knees but didn't touch his heart. Maybe he doesn’t have one. He continued snoozing, or pretending to snooze, his head still swaying.

What in the world is happening here? What is going to happen to Singapore if the young and able bodied refused to yield to the aged and the sick?  Our late Founding Father, Mr. Lee Kuan Yew, cried for Singapore when the country was kicked out of the Federation of Malaysia. The least I could do was to whimper loudly for Singapore. Mr. Lee's tears unified the people and built a Nation. My whimpering moved a heart and maybe saved the Nation he built! For at that point of time, another young man appeared out of nowhere, tapped the  comfortably seated young man on his shoulders. Very hard. The illegal squatter of the reserved seat opened his eyes, looking bewildered. My hero did not utter a word, but pointed to the “RESERVED SEAT” sign which said it all. Everyone glared at him. But only one person stood up for Singapore that day. Sigh. Thank you, young man. It was not just about one seat. It was about the future of Singapore. And the comfort of this grumpy, still not very old, man.

 And this grumpy not very old man will keep his promise that the ride on the MRT ends at Part 3. It is only Part 2.5 right?

CHAPTER 7: DISCOURTESY ON THE MRT (PART II)

And so I found myself on the train, courtesy of Dolly Parton, and no thanks to Samson. The alighting passengers simply had no chance. Samson dragging me and Dolly pushing me. I felt so loved. You may want to try it sometime. Sigh.

Now let the journey begins. But let me prepare the uninitiated, the naive, the inexperienced, for this longest short journey of your life.

Firstly, let me ask you a question but you must promise me to tell the truth, and nothing but the truth because your well-being may depend on this.

Are you into kung fu? Chinese martial arts? Have you had kungfu lessons? No, you don’t really need to learn how to fight, not unless you have a mother-in-law like mine although I hasten to add that even if you become a Shaolin master, you still cannot fight that woman! Honestly! No, you just need to learn the “Horse Stance” – the basic foundation of Chinese kung fu. Simply put, you learn to stand like a horse so that no one can move you unless you wanted to be moved. I should have used my horse stance earlier when I was sandwiched between my new found friends Samson and Dolly.

Anyway, once you have mastered this stance, you become immovable, very stable on your feet. Nothing can make your pair of legs give way – except a kick from Mighty Mouth. This means that when the train driver brakes a bit too abruptly, or even slow down suddenly, and they are happening with increasing frequencies, you remain standing with your dignity intact. And watch the weaklings around you falling all over the place.

Before I mastered the Horse Stance, I was always losing my balance on the train. When it is standing space only, the most that could happen would be that you knock against the bodies of some of your fellow passengers, and you find yourself in an awkward position, hanging on to the first thing or things you could get your hands on to stop yourself from falling. Because, usually, the first thing you can get your hands on is not something you would usually want to get your hands on. I am talking from experience. When it happened to me, I apologized a thousand times to the fine looking lady. She added to my embarrassment by not saying anything, just smiling shyly. I alighted at the first opportunity. What if she decided to take me home to meet the parents? Bigamy is one thing. But the thought of having to contend with a second mother-in-law scared the hell out of me.

When it is off peak, and there is plenty of space, losing your balance may mean a different outcome. It happened to me once and I am going to tell you about it. But please keep it to yourself, okay? Promise?

Although there were plenty of seats as it was off-peak, I had decided to stand. And because I was standing, the driver decided to brake suddenly. It has to be a conspiracy I tell you. I have probably been marked by SMRT as Complainer of the Year and they were out to get me!.The train screeched and the women screamed. Not sure which was louder. And I was sent flying to a destination I had not paid for. You see, some idiot was fast asleep, his very long legs protruding into the middle of the aisle. I tripped and went headlong towards the softest landing I had ever experienced. I found myself on the lap of this lady of very ample proportions. She could have put my new found friend, Dolly Parton the Pusher to shame. I looked up from her lap but my views were completely blocked . Twin Peaks came to mind.. I was reluctant to leave my newly acquired comfort zone. But I did not want to overstay her hospitality so I picked myself up, stuttering “So…soo..ry..hope I did ..did..not knock into your t... t…tits……no, I……I mean your ..your ….teeth”.

And everyone laughed. They, my fellow passengers, they all laughed at me! I couldn’t believe that was happening. Surely that has to be the peaks of discourtesy! Sorry,, I meant the peak of discourtesy.

So, ladies and gentlemen, go practice your horse stance. Then you can really join me for the rest of that MRT ride!

CHAPTER 6: DISCOURTESY ON THE MRT (PART 1)

This one’s my favorite, so pardon me for being long winded. There is a Chinese saying “A journey of 10,000 miles starts with one step.” For us to get to the MRT, we have to start on the escalator before we get to the train platform. And that’s where the discourtesy starts too………

Most people stand idly on the escalator, as it goes up or down, surveying the rest of the world. They are not in a hurry. That’s fine with me. Take your time. BUT PLEASE – I beg you, please stand to the left and allow those who are in a hurry to walk on the escalators if they want to. Never mind their reasons being in a hurry, whether it is to meet their maker or for their reincarnation. That is not your business. Your business is simply to keep to your left. On behalf of the myriads of commuters who are forever in a hurry and I was one of them not too long ago, I beg you again, I implore you, PLEASE STAND TO YOUR LEFT. YOU UNDERSTAND!

And canoodling couples. My God! They are always hogging the escalators. They do not have the sense to stand on different steps, with both keeping to the left and keeping their hands to themselves. They will stand next to each other, holding hands, hugging and occasionally kissing. They are probably at courting stage. The quarrels and the fights have not started yet.

I am married. So I can share my experience on how to behave on the escalators when you are with the wife. When going down the escalator, the wife goes first. Then you follow 3 seconds later which means you are at least three steps behind. Both of you keep to the left so that your fellow human beings who are in a hurry to meet their maker will not have to elbow their way through. Or having to repeat “Excuse, excuse” a thousand times so that they will not be late for whatever they are trying not to be late for.

When going up an escalator, you go first. Then your wife follows 3 seconds thereafter. At this juncture, you may pause to wonder why the wife has to go first on the way down but you go first on the way up. Let me tell you. It has nothing to do with “ladies first” on the way down or “male chauvinism” on the way up. It is because if you say something wrong and she decides to practice her punching skills, you are safely out of reach. Unless your wife has long hands to match her mother’s big mouth, in which case 5 seconds is recommended. My dearly departed father-in-law needed a full 10 seconds.

But sometimes you find yourself standing on the right for reasons beyond your control. When that happens, and you hear impatient “Excuse! Excuse!” or some weirdo breathing heavily down your neck, please return to your left as graciously as possible. Do not glare back at them. Unless you want to start a fight. We are human beings with certain tolerance limits so sometimes we do glare back at them. My tolerance limit is high. It’s my upbringing. But when MM is with me, it goes down to zero. I then not only glare back. I taunt them. I challenge them! Not to fight with me, of course. I am a gentleman. I challenge them to fight with Mighty Mouth, standing quietly besides me. It’s so fun to see her manhandle three grown men. And with just one hand.

And while they are still fighting, I found myself on the train platform. I count to 5 and MM appears, cursing “They don’t even know how to write the word “death” and they want to spar with me?” Once I had to count to ten before she appeared, dragging two of them. The third one could be heard shouting for help.

Anyway,  you are now safely on the train platform. And as you are about to breathe a sigh of relief, you are bombarded with a series of announcements, “PLEASE ALLOW PASSENGERS TO ALIGHT BEFORE BOARDING. PLEASE ALLOW PASSENGERS TO ALIGHT BEFORE BOARDING.” "DO NOT STAND IN FRONT OF THE DOOR". About 50 times. Reinforced with the yellow box in front of the car door.

The announcements and the yellow boxes are no brainers. I know they are no brainers because Mighty Mouth understands them and politely stands at the side of the doors until all alighting passengers have alighted before she boards.

SO PLEASE TELL ME, THE REST OF YOU WITH MORE BRAINS, WHY CAN’T YOU UNDERSTAND THIS VERY SIMPLE INSTRUCTION? WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS RUSHING IN WHEN THERE ARE PASSENGERS TRYING TO GET OUT?

WHY CAN’T YOU WAIT? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?

I better calm down. I am about to get a heart attack. Breathe in. Breathe out. Sigh.

It is just so sad. It happens every time. It happens every day.

Anyway, there  I was,  waiting for the train, keeping out of the yellow box, queuing  behind at least 3 others, determined not to take a step  forward until  alighting passengers have exited. The train stopped. But just before the doors opened,  passengers appeared out of nowhere, jumping queues, standing inside the yellow box. Shouts of “Fast, fast. Train here already!” could be heard. The three of us plus a few behind me, I am sure, glared at them but do they care? No, they don’t. The young man in front of me, built like Samson looked angry, but said nothing. The young lady behind me, of even more ample proportions, (she reminded me of Dolly Parton)  mumbled to herself but said nothing. So it was left to yours truly to stand up for Singapore. But before I could even open my mouth, the train doors opened and the ones on the yellow boxes rushed in. Samson stood his grounds. But Dolly pushed forward, screaming “Must not let them win!” And when Dolly pushed,  even Samson lurched forward, with me holding on to him for dear life! So what do you think happened to me? I will stand up for Singapore next time. I promise.

And so I found myself on the train, courtesy of Dolly Parton and no thanks to  Samson. The alighting passengers simply had no chance. Samson dragging me and Dolly pushing me. I felt so loved. You may want to try it sometime. Sigh.

Now let the journey begins. But let me prepare the uninitiated, the naive, the inexperienced, for this longest short journey of your life.

But  I need sometime to rest after that arduous journey on the escalators. So please bear with me  till  then.........