Life, exemplified by a Tampinesian incident

Pictured: Not Tampines

(via @victorllc)

Ha ha. MacPhersonian losers. Not the main focus of this post. (Like they ever were in anything in the first place)



Today, just like any good Tampinesian would, I stood up to the man and decided to boycott large money-grubbing corporations, making a conscious decision to patronize the local barbershop instead. Okay fine it was a hair salon. Alright alright I went there because they give haircuts for $3.80. Happy now?

Since back-to-school haircuts are part of the national culture, there was a crowd and I had to wait. You know the cheap fifty cent a ride machines that deface neighbourhoods islandwide? Fifty cents as in half a dollar, not the rapper. They call them kiddy rides the last time I checked. Imagine the paedophiles that poorly crafted term would attract.

Where was I again? Outside the barbershop. Just testing you. So I was sitting by one of those machines when a kid no more than 5 and a woman no less than 500 came along. Judging from their faces, she should have either been his grandmother or he her grandson. Which is actually the same thing. Event that followed shall be summarised in point form, for my narrating skills are worthy of a Pulitzer's and should not be wasted on you.

1. Boy gets on the kiddy ride
2. Boy simulates driving, although I was quite sure he thought he was actually driving. Kids these days are dumb.
3. Boy pesters granny
4. Granny, "You must be kidding me on the kiddy ride, kiddo."
5. Boy, "Though a kid I am and a kiddy ride I am on, I kid you not for this is one of the best ride kit a kid can ride and the greatest kite I can bid"
6. Granny, "Fair enough, here you go."

She promptly inserts a shiny coin into the coin slot, much unlike what you can do at the casinos, except that there is bound to be no payout. Silence. She investigates and everything seemed to be in place. Except that the damned music won't start and a good half of her dollar is consumed by the machine. Anguished, the lady bemoans cruel fate.

Then, the game is reversed and she chides the child. A string of I-told-you-sos and now-my-fifty-cents-is-gone followed. Read the six points above. Nowhere in hell did the lady tell him so. The boy was silent. Indignant to the harsh words of the elderly matriarch, he swivelled the steering wheel furiously, determined to get his ride by hook or crook. And determined he was, for I swear that if not for the hinges on the vehicle, the boy would have went all Tokyo Drift on them amateur motherbitches in the car/motorbike park up ahead.

Maligned and torned apart, he staged his protest. He sat there, vroomvrooming with a stone heart, oblivious to her desperate pleas for him to go home. After 20 minutes and when I'm quite sure he completed 50 laps and was in pole position, he finally decided it was time. What moved his strong-willed ass, you ask? The granny, tired from NTUC bag carrying had a stroke.

Of ingenuity. Stroke of ingenuity. She moved that descendant by acquiescing to his unwavering motor-madness. By successfully convincing him that they will get a bigger, better, and shinier ride that actually works "tomorrow, at Tampines Central", he was pleased and decided to seal the deal. He trudged home happily.

Only one minor detail.

Tampines Central has no kiddy rides. Not a single one at all.

At least the child got a headstart on the countless instances of injustice and disappointment that will plague his later life. Hold on tight, kid, for it's a hell of a ride.

Then I went in and got my haircut and it's terrible as usual.

PS: Kids are like apples and grandparents like worms. They are spoilt rotten.
PPS: Analogies are like the Italian team. They don't really work.