Went night cycling last night with Temasek Hall people, none of whom I knew. This is not reflective of the hall but of me, because having stayed there for 1 1/2 years, I never really made any new friends. Correction, I really never made any new friends. So everyone was new to me, and though it was snail speed in coming, I finally did make conversation and get to know people.
Before this grand event, I was on the MRT home. On my right sat an army guy whose pungent odour preceded him. I literally could not breathe because the molecules in the air were choking my nostrils. In that moment I realized what poor lung capacity I now have (compared to previous abilities to hold my breathe for more than 1 minute underwater). Was trying to breathe through my mouth, then trying to hold my breath while taking intermittent gulps of air, but I was starting to feel like a panic attack was oncoming. Finally settled for breathing facing the opposite direction while plastering my relatively better smelling hands to my nose. Don't think he got the hint.
On my left was an old auntie who was trimming her nails (with nails flying).
Anyway, back to night cycling.
It was really fun, overall. But somewhere after the 3rd stop, I fully appreciated the importance of soft chairs, soft beds and cushions. A bike is not meant to be sat on for more than a few hours. Lance Armstrong would know.
The night is sort of broken down into a few phases. I mean my mental and physical condition, not cycling phases. At first, everyone starts off excited and their muscles are all limber. At the first stop, it's so exciting to see a sea of orange shirted people, and everyone wants to save their stomachs for better food. For the next few hours, you start getting really sleepy. At the stops, you keep checking your watch in disbelief that it's only 12am, it's only 2am. And suddenly you're ravenous. Started eating all the frog porridge and tau huey with abandon.
After that it's all a daze. All you can think about is how to not move too much so you don't get abrasion in the nether regions. But by then just getting on and off is a huge pain. You start to think you'll never walk again or have children. But at this hour (4am?) the traffic is zero in the East and suddenly it's so fun to whiz along the empty roads. Now I like the wanton mee place at Joo Chiat. It's quite different from the usual wet noodles in the rest of Singapore.
Nearing the end of the night, everyone's asking, 'Is this the last stop yet?' because we all cannot stop imagining the cooling shower, nice smelling soap, warm dry towel and soft bed covers that are close by. And finally, finally we reach East Coast Park just as the sun is rising. Everyone finally gets a good solid look at each others' faces, after having squinted through the night. And I wolfed down my McDonalds. Nothing new there.
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