Ever felt so lonely, so helpless, so lost in the city that you wish you could just squat down and cry? Amidst the crowd, everyone is completing their mundane daily routine, oblivious of your depression and misery.
Today has been the most unpleasant, uneventful day for me. Everything is so depressing that even my new bags and new clothes could not make up for it. Irony as it seems, in spite of the shopping bags on my hands, I was feeling empty and incomplete in my heart. It was as if I had never shopped. On the other hand, the weight of the bags soon became an add-on burden on my withering limbs. I cursed the fact that there was no one to help carrying my shopping bags. With that pair of wedges, my feet bone was on the edge of breaking apart. Nonetheless I collected my strength and continued every step, after each I motivated myself with a “GO”, “YES”, “GRR”, “AHH”, “SHIT”, “DAMN” which eventually made a full page of swear term.
I remember during those rainy days, when I was sitting on the cosy passenger seat with my seat belt buckled, feeling so safe and protected from the nasty rain. Most of the time I would start gazing at the motorcyclist and pedestrians through the side view mirror, my heart filled with sympathy as I see them struggling to make their way through the rain. This time however, I was the one walking in the rain. It wasn’t a downpour, just a slightly more than a drizzle. There, in my snowy white patent leather tote, lay the most bimbotic looking pink little umbrella from my undeserving class rep. It was a shame that he had been keeping the brolly (HAHA new term) in his tiny boxy room, fearing that someone would laugh at him if he ever use it. Yea, it is a HE, a he who owns a pink umblly! (umbrella+brolly=umblly?) Bewildered, I asked for his permission to be the new owner, and the next day, it was mine. As I walked down the street with one hand hooking my 10tonnes shopping bags, another holding the pink umbrella, I realized I had no hand to text someone about my misery. The pedestrian walkway was temporary closed for construction, which indicated that I had no choice but to walk on the tar road. With the water from the rain and the mud from the construction, it made the most perfect combination of natural feet massage essence. Being the pathetic pedestrian I was, I did not even have to ask, but as the vehicles drove past, BRAHHHHH, my feet, together with my
WHITE wedges was blessed with the mud water! I was so so so pissed I could have thrown my umbrella and break his rear view mirror! Then, I began staring at the drivers of the oncoming cars, one by one I gave them the my-wedges-are-precious-so-you-better-beware-or-you-will-get-it stare. It was a relief that they read through my signal, as all of them were driving very very slowly with their eyes planted on me, or my face to be precise. I dunno, weird it seems, I thought they should be looking at my feet.
The 100th time I boarded the wrong train this year. HA-DI-HAH. One thing I hate about Star Line, I can never remember the right lane I should go: Sri Petaling, Ampang, Sentul Timur??? While assuming it was Sri Petaling, I texted darl: “I’m not supposed to enter the Ampang train, am I?” And his reply was, “Why not?” As I received his reply, the Ampang train just closed the door and jerked off. Great. Too late. The next train came. Sri Petaling. I entered the train, hoping that it will take no time to reach my destination. However, I came to a sudden realization that it was going towards the opposite direction! *beep beep* Darl said: “Oh no, you should take the opposite line!” Too late. By then, I was filled with anger, sadness, confusion and extreme fatigue. Instantaneously I hopped down the train at the next stop and proceeded to the opposite lane. Why? Why do I have to go through all these? If only he was by my side, I wouldn’t have such painful experience. Drained in my thought, I subconsciously dwindled into a 5-year-old-pigtail-girl who relies completely on her big brother. Darkness was approaching. I felt lonely, helpless, abandoned. I forced back my tears, reminding myself that I am not a 5-year-old.
After what seems like ages, I reached the interchange. There was a ATM machine with touch ‘n’ go service available. In attempt to reload my card, I did as told by the instruction, but failed even on my second try. I gave up. It was obviously not my day. Peak hour was approaching. I endured the long queue and waited patiently for the train. Darl’s text: “You can reload your card at the counter there.” Ohh. Too late. I wouldn’t want to get out of the queue and then start all over again. After much pushing and shoving, I managed to get into the next train. To my utter disgust, my boobs touched the arm a typical kns Malay guy without his knowing. When he turned his head and noticed that, he quickly moved his arm away to save from further embarrassment. My hands were tied down by my shopping bags! I was so gullible, having nothing to shield my front. Yuck yuck yuck!
Dad called. “I was thinking if you want to have dinner with us.” Garn. They were at Hang Tuah. And I was already at Masjid Jamek. Too late. Again, too late. I’ve spent that afternoon together with mum and dad at the wholesale city (shopping paradise), and do not ask me why they did not offer to fetch me home. A question I’ve been asked for a thousand times. My dad never ever fetches me in KL. He expects me to be able to travel on my own by public transport, which in his mind, is supremely convenient. Take that! Or put it this way, he never knows the way in KL, despite the fact that he travels here every month. Simply as that.
My day had been so messed up that I thought I would die if I were to suffer any longer. Being the “Miss Very Wise”, I cut the long taxi queue that simply joined a stranger in a taxi. Yea-yee-hoo, it was heading to the right destination, and the best thing was I did not even need to pay in full. The dumb ass guy paid according to the price on the meter, while I simply handed two 1dollar notes to the driver. It was a win-win situation anyway.
I ate the warm murtabak, keropok lekor and karipap like a hungry ghost. Meanwhile, my shopping treasures were waiting impatiently in the bags, screaming inaudible melody at me so that I would embrace their beauty.
My day isn’t that bad after all ;)
