Water Ration

There was a little "adventure" on my flight back to SG last night. Guess what? The plane ran out of water! The passenger announcement came some 4 hours after taking off from Tullamarine Airport and it was kinda funny,"...please try not to go to the toilets. If you can cross your legs, please do, if not, please try your best. I don't know what else I can say..."

I bet the faint-hearted UK-bound probably almost freaked out upon hearing that. Fortunately, the plane will transit at Changi and the Captain promised to fill up the water tank.

Of course, there was no coffee or tea either for the next 3 hours.

Shhh...I can hear ya

1. 7pm on bus 754 from Glen Waverley to Stud Park: "Pick me up now!" Asian boy retorted into his cellphone and that's all he said before he hung up. My guess is, he's probably speaking to his mum. Er, okay...what's your point, you ask? My point is, manners and values aren't race/ ethnicity-inclusive. It doesn't matter who or where; it's about how and what.

2. 1pm in Kimchi Grandma Korean Restaurant at Carnegie: "I don't care what the f***, man. I don't f***ing care. They can f***ing do whatever the f*** they want..." Well, as much as I love using somewhat perturbing adjectives to glacé what I say, this is waaaayyy too much for me. I was in the restaurant for one hour and you bet I've had my annual dosage of hearing the f-word for the coming one year!

3. 5pm along Turramurra Drive: "I saw the girl that lives in that white house over there and she's so hot!" said boy of not more than 12 years old, I reckon, cycling with 2 other friends around the neighbourhood. Who says the male species only get horny after puberty? This pre-teen boy's libido is gonna give Pfizer a run for its money.

13 August

5.30pm. 12 degrees. Chadstone. Where on earth is Princes Highway? I need to locate the bus, and of course the bus-stop, that'll bring me back to Rowville. That, or I'm going to be dead, literally, since I'm 17km from the city and 19km from Rowville.

Palpitation. Clammy palms. Mental paralysis.

Come on, Jo Yeow, think! I only have one number in my head: 900 - that's the bus I have to take back to Rowville. I don't even have a map with me! For a split second, I felt my heart stop. Great, just great, I thought. And I was pissed too. The reason is simple - if there's anyone who cannot get lost, that's me, me, me! I pride myself at map-reading and directions, of course, being a Geography fanatic since Secondary 1 until now, your beloved (I guess) ex-Geography teacher. Me? L.O.S.T? This is so not happening.

Ah-haa! IDD. The magic of technology. What the heck, between extra dollars spent on an SOS phone call and stranded with a frozen arse in ulu-land, I chose the former. 2 minutes later, with renewed confidence, I hop onto the first bus I see that'll take me to a train station somewhere which'll bring me to the city, where I know I'll get a ride safely home by midnight.

7pm. Swanston Street McDonald's. The first bite into my McOz burger... ahhhh...bliss...

Dear Mr Policeman

Do you remember what you've been taught at Primary 3? Well, I do. Other than moral values, I remember Dear Mr Policeman, which I believe was part of the CME component. Dear Mr Policeman says to never trust any stranger nor talk to them. And this has stuck in my head for the longest time, even after almost 20 years!

Last Saturday, I went to Macau and I kinda lost my way. And while retracing my tracks, I had to walk past quiet residential neighbourhoods. Along the way, you'll keep reminding yourself that you have to be really alert because the unfamiliar neighbourhood is unsafe and the people you see are bad guys. You'll hasten your steps (ready to run) while walking past these characters, because deep inside of you, you think they'll do you harm. And never, ever talk to them, not even to ask them for directions!

Why? Dear Mr Policeman says I can't trust strangers. In retrospect, I can't help but think that Dear Mr Policeman was really effective.