Last Friday Night

It felt like if someone had split open my skull and implanted a golf ball right between my brain. I had no idea where I was or why I was where ever I was. Suddenly something really bulky chafed right across my face only to wake me up from a dream.

Why was I at Yishun MRT at 7:01AM dreaming along a painful hangover?
Woah! This hurts!

It all got incepted at 7:00PM on a Friday night when I left my house to meet with an office colleague for a dinner; post dinner we were to meet up with another three of our friends and head to an Internations event at MINK. Everything went as it was planned except that the food we ate was lousy, we were running terribly late; Internations event was more like a prawning fiesta where the old uncles were prawning Asian women.

On the positive side of it, It had been really long since I last chilled out with friends other than the “Gangs of Singapura” prodigy. Talking about friends, I think I made few friends last night, I think…

Internations sucked, so we went to another private party at the “Hall of Owl” or the Owl bar. In Singapore Timeout it’s described as ‘This unpretentious and fully-loaded bar on College Road straddles the leafy environs of Singapore General Hospital and comes with the added perk of its very own pool.’

Exactly my point. We were fawning to loud music at a rowdy bar right next to Singapore General Hospital, apologies but this was legendary. It’s here where I met Conor, cool American, I think I will end up partying with him often. By now I was already a few beers down with variance of Heineken, Corona and Budweiser.

Our next stop, Bar22 where my friend Carlos aka DjBitten was doing his Hip-Hop stint starting at 1:00am. It’s here where all the madness escalated altogether to an exponential level. Elements of “Gangs of Singapura” prodigy too joined us at Bar 22 and so did some random people fawning to the tunes of Spanish hip-hop. By now my beer variance included Heineken, Corona, Budweiser, Miller and lot More Heineken.

Did I mention that a married Brit women was trying to make out with this cute Indonesian girl? Yaaup! the ultimate awesomeness benchmark threshold had been achieved. In fact, I have a picture of the Indonesian girl on my right and the awesome Brit lady’s husband on my left. Funny how things correlate.

When the above happens at a party, you know nothing more awesomer can happen here, so you move on. So did we,at around 3:50am our next stop was Arab St — Turkish Corner. What’s a Friday night without a Sheesha night eh?

And my beer variance added a Tiger to it.

The happening incidents above were simple, easy to digest (and consume) and awesome; it was what happened after Arab st. that is still puzzling my nervous cells. Habituated to an extent of being an expert in catching the first buses from random bus stops with the precise calculation in minutes, I left Arab St to catch the first 851 from Bugis MRT.

As programmed I was on the right bus in minutes and was eager to just close my eyes as I go home. I would have kept my eyes closed throughout the trip if it wasn’t for her knocking me out of my reality. She boarded the bus from the KK Hospital bus stop and was now the center of attention for the entire bus. She walked in shouting at the bus driver that he wasn’t parking the bus right and some thing else which I totally zoned out on as my ears cannot decipher mandarin.

None of the other passengers were pleased with a sight of a drunk girl walking into their routine morning bus. She was encapsulated in a white dress with a silver inner design running along her natural curves. Her long hair waived like a Sunday evening summer tide as she struggled walking across the moving bus.

I’m not sure if it was her long heels or the moving bus but something caused her to stumble real bad and fall on the Chinese uncle who ended up getting off the bus at the very next stop after abusing to the extent of infinity. If this was India, I would have helped the girl or at least tried since the very moment she entered the bus but I was aware that my actions might not be appreciated here, specially when even I’m under the influence of alcohol. Hence I too, just like other methodical passengers, decided to sit on my own seat and mind my own business – sleep.

There was small detail that was pinching my mind though; was she really that drunk if yes, why did she board the bus from KK Hospital Bus Stop at 6:10, was there a possibility that she was sick or both drunk and sick. Moreover why was she still standing even though half the  bus was empty…there was only one way to find out.

Hey! Are you okay?”

#^@%^$@% (something in Mandarin) – I felt I had seen her before or even had conversations for hours as her voice sounded substantially familiar.

I cannot understand Mandarin, if you open your eyes you would know,why don’t you take a seat?

I’m fine…ok now sha“, she mumbled as she struggled to maintain her balance on the bus. I really didn’t understand what she meant by “Ok now Sha” but I took it was as “I’m okay, leave me alone now”.

Minutes after I retired back to my seat; I heard a little whisper in my ears, “We’re here. Thank you for dropping me home, really appreciate it. Now you should also go home Sha, bbye

It has her; the girl in white, only that we were in a park which resembled Bishan park but a lot smaller in dimensions. I could feel tremors in my head causing sudden disorientation as I saw her walking towards the lift of her HDB right next to the park. It felt like if someone had split open my skull and implanted a golf ball right between my brain. I had no idea where I was or why I was where ever I was.

Where exactly was I? it said BLK 349 Yishun on that building.

Suddenly something really bulky chafed right across my face only to wake me up from a dream. I realized I wasn’t in any park nor was there any girl in white around me and that “bulky thing” was a big brawny Prada bag that this aunty was clasping as she stood right in front of me blocking my view from all angles. I was in a train halted at Yishun MRT going towards Marina Bay. I realized I was probably just dreaming. I tenderly assumed I must have slept in the train and missed Bishan.

The only weird fact about that assumption was, I had never boarded a train from Bugis, even if I did, I would remember transiting from Green line to Red Line.

I was too “hung over” to even think about it, I got off at Bishan MRT, queued up at McDonalds to grab some breakfast. By 7:45am I was home in my bed only to wake up hours later to realize, “Most of the happy stories in real life are always incomplete




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