strange affairs befall me at inopportune times, like movie outtakes that happen to me in real life. and i see them as inevitable, these anecdotes that color my world at such a frequency (and unerring accuracy!) that over the years they've become - through endless retellings and much shared laughter - my token introduction, offered in equal parts shyness and defiance, to who i am in a nutshell.
some months ago, i was on the train on my way home from work when it made its stop at the shaw mrt station. it didn’t surprise me to get dragged out by a wave of "womanity" like i was a bottle carried along by ocean currents. what did surprise me was finding myself a second later half-dangling in the air, my left leg inside the crevice between train and platform. and then my shoe fell into the void. it all happened so fast that an uncharacteristic, crispy curse word escaped me before i could stop it.
pu**ng ina.
i shot straight up and felt the gaze of all of shaw’s rush hour traffic. and that was how my latest twilight zone episode began, in a life where ridiculousness seems the only rule of law. i was cinderella then, thrown out of the ball, with no fairy godmother in sight. i was shoeless in shaw.
grin and bear it, grin and bear it, i told myself like a mantra. and here we go again.
ignoring the stares, i squared my shoulders and marched straight to the nearest uniformed guard to ask for his help. of course i did this before realizing i still had my earphones on. sigh. grin and bear it.
i took my earphones off as nonchalantly as i could and repeated my request for help. as the murmur of gossiping commuters grew, it was then that i decided to make the most of it and heck, even enjoy it. the guard, who looked helpless himself, vaguely instructed me to go up and state my case there.
so up i went, while videotaping my feet. i wandered around before i approached another guard for help. this time i pointedly looked at his own pair of polished footwear in mute appeal while doing so. in sympathy, he led me off to the side and pointed out tiangge stalls outside where i could buy new shoes.
go outside shoeless? aghast, i turned my full charm on him and asked, rather piteously: could i be directed to the mrt office instead? or was it possible for them to send somebody else to buy me new shoes, any shoes at all?
it worked! he led me to the mrt office where more staff, it turned out, were eager to help. they even traced the outline of my foot as a size reference (which so touched and amused me) and soon, somebody was dispatched for the dubious honor of being my prince charming (but not before i was thoughtfully asked what style i preferred).
it was a short wait until my prodigal shoe was retrieved, dripping but looking none the worse for wear. my new fake black havaianas slippers arrived soon after that.
slippered and ready, i thanked the staff profusely and videotaped my way back to the platform, glowing from the unexpected kindness of strangers.
i got on the next train and went home, amazed and grateful for a new story to tell - about colorful, nameless, unsung characters who are, in fact, the real heroes to these tales.
some months ago, i was on the train on my way home from work when it made its stop at the shaw mrt station. it didn’t surprise me to get dragged out by a wave of "womanity" like i was a bottle carried along by ocean currents. what did surprise me was finding myself a second later half-dangling in the air, my left leg inside the crevice between train and platform. and then my shoe fell into the void. it all happened so fast that an uncharacteristic, crispy curse word escaped me before i could stop it.
pu**ng ina.
i shot straight up and felt the gaze of all of shaw’s rush hour traffic. and that was how my latest twilight zone episode began, in a life where ridiculousness seems the only rule of law. i was cinderella then, thrown out of the ball, with no fairy godmother in sight. i was shoeless in shaw.
grin and bear it, grin and bear it, i told myself like a mantra. and here we go again.
ignoring the stares, i squared my shoulders and marched straight to the nearest uniformed guard to ask for his help. of course i did this before realizing i still had my earphones on. sigh. grin and bear it.
i took my earphones off as nonchalantly as i could and repeated my request for help. as the murmur of gossiping commuters grew, it was then that i decided to make the most of it and heck, even enjoy it. the guard, who looked helpless himself, vaguely instructed me to go up and state my case there.
so up i went, while videotaping my feet. i wandered around before i approached another guard for help. this time i pointedly looked at his own pair of polished footwear in mute appeal while doing so. in sympathy, he led me off to the side and pointed out tiangge stalls outside where i could buy new shoes.
go outside shoeless? aghast, i turned my full charm on him and asked, rather piteously: could i be directed to the mrt office instead? or was it possible for them to send somebody else to buy me new shoes, any shoes at all?
it worked! he led me to the mrt office where more staff, it turned out, were eager to help. they even traced the outline of my foot as a size reference (which so touched and amused me) and soon, somebody was dispatched for the dubious honor of being my prince charming (but not before i was thoughtfully asked what style i preferred).
it was a short wait until my prodigal shoe was retrieved, dripping but looking none the worse for wear. my new fake black havaianas slippers arrived soon after that.
slippered and ready, i thanked the staff profusely and videotaped my way back to the platform, glowing from the unexpected kindness of strangers.
i got on the next train and went home, amazed and grateful for a new story to tell - about colorful, nameless, unsung characters who are, in fact, the real heroes to these tales.
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