The Bobsleigh Ride

It’s hard not to feel crabby when you have a throbbing headache. Plus that dreadful scorching afternoon sun, I almost melted on my way home from another day of com service. I don’t even want to elaborate about my morning. At least I’m home now perched in front of my notebook, listening to some random podcasts. Anyway I thought I should discuss about train rides. I’m more of a bus person actually and each time I decide to take the tube, I wonder if there are basic etiquettes that exist on the sly? Here are four ground breaking questions (for the time being).


Q1. Where are you supposed to look when you sit facing a row of unsmiling people?
For instance, I had this totally absurd encounter when I was gazing out the clear window above some kid punk’s head. He probably thought I was watching him and on his way out, he actually had the nerve to tell me, "Sorry hor, 我有女朋友 already." Give me a break man! Can you just imagine? You are doing your thing and out of the blue someone comes up to you and tells you he’s not interested, when you can’t even see his face under that hideous baseball cap. Talk about sheer madness.


Q2. Are you allowed to sleep/nap on trains?
I guess not because there was this unforgettable incident when a thirty something aunty actually woke me up and basically shrieked at me for being ignorant to the elderly man who was standing sideways of me whom she felt could use a seat. I gaped at her with half closed eyes and did a physical run through; she reminded me of a very territorial parrot and I have no idea why I envisage that.


Q3. How do you identify an elderly folk?
Then there was this other episode. My day had gone well and I was feeling exceptionally nice. When I saw the first old lady (she dresses well but I guess she’s probably in her sixties and I actually thought she looked a little like Julie Andrews in The Princess Diary), so being the occasionally-good being, I offered my seat. You think she would be thankful, and give a refined queenly hand wave. However, the second she opened her mouth, she was the wicked witch from Snow White, “You think I’m old? I’m not wearing clutches you know?” and she pointed to her outfit. Christ. Wherever did those nice grannies go? Were they taking the bus? I wanted so much to retort back, we had successfully draw quite a few commuters’ attention and I don’t want to be labeled ill-mannered in such an unfortunate situation. She’s the edgy one, (and for the sake of the real Julie Andrews), I’ll be nice and let the matter rest by hopping off that lousy cabin.


Q4. Is there a rule that uniformed NS men should always give up their seats?
Maybe. My dearest had to surrender his seat for almost every candidate of all shapes and sizes. It’s like an invisible order that you protect the public and the practice goes all the way into all forms of mass transport. So basically after a whole morning of training and finally the book out, you still have to submit your seat and slouch your way from Pasir Ris to Boon Lay. Of course I continued to guard my seat, I couldn’t care less, I’m civilian.


Taking the trains can sometimes be so perplexing. They should really get TV mobile up and running soon, even if they play advertisements the whole day, at least I will have something to focus on my journey and hopefully stay out of the drama.