A Day of Activities...

My work just tumbled on me when I reported from physiotherapy to work. As usual, apart from clearing my own work, I helped others clear theirs. In the process, I hooked myself with a request to help order and carry food back from a food centre.

Ever since I was posted in, I never received such requests, because there was enough manpower in that section to handle such orders. That day however, was different as an NSF has recently been released into national service, and the other was enjoying himself in the US. Leaving one sad NSF behind, he has no choice but to seek for helping hands. Out of curiosity, I learnt that he actually had no intent of leaving camp in the scorching sun. It was his kind heart that gave way when his supervisor politely asked that he did her a favor. Before he knew what was happening, almost everyone else in that and a nearby section jumped on the opportunity and expected my stunned friend to buy for them as well. “It’s on the way,” they proclaimed, but to me, that was a simple typical everyday scenario of exploitation in that section. Helping people is one story, but helping people who stabs your back when you are of no use is another altogether. That is one disgusted fact in office politics. It is fortunate for me at least that I did not suffer the upsetting fate of my friend, but I do hope that in the future when I hold a position of higher authority, such things will never happen.

After we brought the food back, it was just a mad rush of leftover work, and then it was time for my first time to trek up Telok Blangah hill. Half-way up the hill, my friend and I deviated from the designated pathway and we went up to the peak of the hill. The scenery was quite breathtaking, but sadly there was not much of nature left in the horizon. We all know that land is scarce here, and that conservationists are fighting a losing battle when it comes to securing pieces of land for future generations to see. If such a battle is won somewhere, it is synonymous to a story of a traveler wishing for a bridge and the genie created segregated segments of a bridge instead. Not long after we descended from the peak, it was about to rain and the officer-in-charge hurried all of us back to camp.

Upon reaching our office, we packed our documents and left for Bedok for our dinner. I ordered some mutton noodles at the Bedok food center, and never will I order from that stall again. What happened was that my friend explicitly told the stallholder to not add any celery to his meal. He responded by nodding his head and a rumbling hum, but the meal was prepared by a lady and she just added the celery to my friend’s meal without hesitation! The stallholders seriously need to enroll in some communication skill workshops. Customer service is so widely advertised by the government that I feel that even the food centers should not provide anything less than restaurants. Many might argue that there are no service charges in food centers, but who would enjoy their meal if the one who prepares or delivers their meals is mean? Besides, service charges in restaurants do not necessarily end up in the attendants’ pockets, so you should consider tipping them the next time their service is good.

My friend purchased a portable speaker while some of us were still eating. He was thinking of attaching it to his bag while we cycle later. The effect would be almost the same as a Subaru with external speakers attached such that the driver has to wind down his windows to listen to his own music, and that everyone will turn their head when the car passes by, just to throw praises the sports car and groove to the rhythm. The difference is that when he rides by, people will most likely hurl expletives at him and puke to the music. Luckily, there were only a few tracks in his MP3 player that would produce such violent reactions.

Yes, we were going to cycle at night. The proposed route was from East Coast Park (ECP) to Lau Pak Sa, and back to ECP where we would head out to Changi Village and rest at the beach. After watching the sunrise, we would once again return to ECP to return our bikes.

We reached ECP via bus and the underpass, and hanged around in the fast food restaurant eating salty and oily fries dipped in hair-dropping and cancer-causing red or white sauce while waiting for the rest of the cyclists to arrive. I guess many people, including myself, misinterpreted the quote “we only live once”, by subconsciously adding the phrase “so we live it short and good” behind.

When all had gathered and our tasty but suicidal snack consumed, we collected our bikes. For just $7 each, we get a 7-gear manual transmission rear-wheel drive, with 20-inch tires, dual suspensions, sporting 1 man-power with acceleration and top speed of as-fast-as-you-can-pedal. It also comes equipped with superb rubber grips for powerful steering and pulsating front and rear lights for grabbing the attention of other road users. As soon as we had checked our bikes and emptied our bladders, the 12 of us set off for Lau Pak Sa. 10 are my colleagues and the remaining 1 is a lady who was invited by one of those 10 colleagues and had a previous personal connection with him. I was feeling confused but that feeling morphed into something else later.

It took some time before everyone assembled for a final check at the end of ECP, because someone was lagging behind. At first, I thought that it was due to a lack of stamina, as it was a long distance from the bicycle shop to the end of ECP. Being understandable, we moved off to the streets at a moderate pace. We breezed past the first few junctions without delay but stopped when we realised that some of the cyclists have gone missing. Initially, we guessed that they were stuck at the traffic junction, so we waited patiently. However, someone rode in our direction is a wobbly manner, thus instantaneously changing our moods and our expressions. Nope, someone was not injured, and neither was the bicycle damaged. It dawned upon us that if someone did not know how to ride very well, it might actually compromise our entire team’s safety and speed that we can travel. Looking at the assistance of someone’s closer friends, we felt that we could still reach our checkpoints with only a slight delay. Hence, to make someone to not feel left out, we continued the trip.

Life is always full of regrets. After countless stops, hours of traveling, and multiple photo shots, we arrived at Lau Pak Sa. We were way behind schedule, but we needed some food, so we just helped ourselves to desserts and drinks. At the rate that we are traveling, my friend calculated that we will not be able to make it to Changi Village on time to make the return trip to ECP. Therefore, he adjusted the route to insert some shortcuts and thus, shortening the trip.

We continued our trip back to ECP after we are done with our desserts. Experiencing again the same situations of waiting for someone, we began to feel agitated and displeasured. Someone’s attitude of giving up cycling fuelled our annoyance so much that we longed for someone to stop at ECP so that we can still make it to Changi Beach for our breakfast, but somebody had already asked someone and the answer we got was that someone will tag along all the way. The saga did not end so early. The slower paced amongst us took a different turn at one junction and by doing so we have two groups at each corner of Geylang. This time, it took even a longer time for us to assemble as the lead rider from our group had to ride out to look for the lost riders. After much patience and tolerance, we finally arrived at ECP, and were riding towards the other end. It was at this moment that we were enlightened by the fact that someone suffered from night blindness. Our jaws just dropped right there. It was disbelieving that someone went cycling with us all night and did not even inform us of such medical condition. Well, at least someone finally did update us, for it was always better late than never. But then again, it was extremely insane for someone to ride during the night on the streets! It was like asking a deaf man to operate the fire station, which is suicide!

Before we reached the other end of ECP, my colleague pointed out to us that someone was turning pale and that they would wait for us to return from Changi Village at the fast food restaurant. We do not wish to be mean, but someone is one whom locals would classify as “not automatic”, which is also known as someone without initiatives. Someone knew that we were going on night cycling, and should be wise enough to know that it was dangerous to not know now to ride on the streets. The bottom line was that we welcomed her to join our activities but someone should have taken the initiative to let us know that someone did not know how to ride well before we started cycling. However, who would know how well one cycle? There is no classification out there that determines one’s ability to cycle. Let us say we give someone the benefit of the doubt, that someone did not know it was so difficult to ride on the streets and that someone’s current skill level is inadequate to engage in such high risk activity. In any case, someone should have volunteered to back off when we returned to ECP. However, someone did not do so and still wishes to continue to Changi Village with everyone else. I do not sense that someone felt any remorse or guilt in holding back the entire group, which is a character trait that I doubt anyone can tolerate.

Therefore, when someone finally gave up because of physical constraints and not by choice, everyone was overjoyed, but also exhausted by the constant starting and stopping that we had to go through. That was why when we reached the beginning of the infamous “road that never ends”, 5 of us gave up and made a turn back to the fast food restaurant. The remaining 5 continued to Changi Village. Okay, I know that I am one of the 5 who gave up, but I am no sissy. Instead, if I continued riding, I might turn into one when my shorts are reduced to nothing by the never-ending friction and pressure with the bicycle seat. In fact, all of us were already emitting orgasmic sounds when we raise our bottoms from our seats once in a while. They should invent those seats that moulds to the shape of your bottoms, such that riding long distances will no longer be a pain in the ass. There were many reasons that spurred me to not carry on cycling. Firstly, it was already 3:10am. There would definitely not be any time for us to enjoy the sunrise nor the beaches. Secondly, it was going to rain. Lightning strikes were seen in the horizon, and it would not be long before we experience heavenly water. Thirdly, as explained earlier, my bottoms hurt like I had been spanked 1000 times, and that I still wish to celebrate my father’s day. Fourthly, I was about to sleep. I could feel that I am already in hyper-drive mode and that everything I was doing bypassed my central system. I just needed a break and decided that I should just end my trip there.

On our way back, it started to rain. Having sensitive eyes, the rain got the better of me and I had to stop to wipe by eyes. I told my friend to go ahead while I tried to wash away the rainwater with my tears. When I picked up from where I left off, I entered a wrong path and ended behind the chalets. Interestingly, when I “reappeared” on the right track and reached my destination, one of my friends was worried that I was lost, as she did not overtake me but knew that I was in front of her. It sounded like some Copperfield act, but I was too tired to make any humorous comments at that time. I just stepped into the place and slept with my soaked clothes on. My friends asked me to change out but I refused, simply because I was too worn out too do so. Fortunately, I awoke to find myself shivering and not sneezing.

I had my breakfast and we all waited for the 5 to return from Changi Village. We never mentioned anything about someone, but I believed that our feelings are unanimous. Before we returned our bikes, I saw this young lady who could balance another bicycle beside her with one arm and still could ride easily around the park. Originally I thought she was a professional, until another of my friend saw a man who carried a bicycle by attaching in the wheel to his handle and carried the whole freaking bicycle chassis on his shoulder. He rode around with more flexibility, and thrashed the lady I saw hands up. It was a pity that we did not manage to see a kid trying to balance a bicycle on his forehead while riding, or else I would have called all my friends to witness a free acrobat show. Once we returned our bicycles, we bid farewell to each other, and found myself in a cab with 2 of my friends. The next thing I knew, I had showered and was lying on my bed, about to fall asleep. It is fascinating to know that our mind still functions even when we are very tired. It is detrimental to our health, but at least our mind ensures that we still live to tell the tale.

This is my story, described in less than 2500 words and not 8000 as previously mentioned to some of my colleagues. I was looking at the number of characters by mistake, and with my mind not fully functioning, I read that number as the words I had written. I am really sorry to you guys if this was too short. I will try to write more when we have the chance to go out together for such exciting activities with interesting some ones.