On Internet Connections and Go-Karts

I’m now brazenly sitting on a rocking deck chair on someone’s front porch, leeching off their internet connection because the one at my place systematically broke down (again).

Can’t believe I’m paying USD80 a week for this hellhole while my friend working at another theme park only pays USD55 for his. His weekly pay is almost twice mine, which kinda sucks when both of you are basically doing the same shitty job.

On a better note, I got transferred to the go-kart racing track, and I consider that, arguably, a “promotion” of some sorts. I get new gear, like this cool red plastic whistle attached to a cool Teva-patterned lanyard. I mean, how many jobs actually allow you to blow a whistle at people? Makes you feel so much more powerful and authoritative, doncha think?

Which made my wandering mind start on the really cool jobs that all of us wanted as a kid. I’m sure everyone wanted to be a go-kart operator at some point in their lives. Like c’mon, who doesn’t like to experience the thrill of a F1 racer, less the likely explosions, deadly flips, vertebrae with multiple fractures, broken skulls and champagne showers? And being the operator gives you the power to “eject” anyone from the race track, which is pretty cool when you say it loud over the PA system.

“Red car number 36! This is your only warning! No road hogging or cutting off other cars!”

“Red car number 36! Find your brakes and stop! Your race has been terminated! And er, enjoy the rest of your stay at the park.”

I’ll keep you people updated on this cool new job of mine. Just to make y’all jealous.

I Speak (Profound) English

It’s inevitable that when you work in a theme park, on the same ride, in a small backwater seashore town busy only during the Summer, for over a month, you are bound to meet parents and their kids who frequent the place for their weekly family outings.

And although I must admit I don’t remember most of them, some faces get priority recall, because they either look distinct or visited my ride more than a comfortable number of times. There was this particular parent whom I’ve seen week after week, I remember him because he had this Kevin Bacon from Footloose thing going on,

and so I said “Hello again Sir”, as one would normally do if they saw someone persistently.

He looked surprised that I remembered him, picked himself up rather quickly though, apparently he remembered me and offered to shake hands, introducing himself as “Ed”. Obviously Ed doesn’t pack as much punch as a Kevin -Bacon- but heck, he was a cool and nice guy. And of course I know my manners, I told him my name’s SQ, which was quite redundant because I had this big employee badge attached to my chest that put those two meaningless alphabets elegantly across for anyone who bothered.

He asked what it stood for, I said it’s a long Chinese name & SQ’s just fine, he insisted, OK my name’s Shangqian, Shangquin? Typical, and I just smiled and gave a nod of approval like that was exactly how my name sounded.

After the ride he told me my English was “very profound”, which could mean I spoke excellent English, or that I had surpassed his imagination of a Chinese guy speaking English, but it doesn’t matter. For someone who actually uses “profound” to describe someone’s standard of spoken English, he has to be pretty profound himself, making the compliment more valuable. I didn’t forget my daily act of patriotism mind you, I told him in impeccable Singaporean English that I was from Singapore, and everyone there studies English. And he said that’s great, he’d love to visit one day.

Well, see you around in Singapore, Mr Ed Bacon.

Samaritans in the States

Ok there are really nice people in the States, and I think that’s really understating it.

The moment I lost my wallet, we waited for the next bus service and asked the bus operator if she could help me radio her colleague. She did, patiently parking by the bus stop to get help over the phone, but of course not EVERY American is nice so some passengers started ranting from the back of the bus even though she only stopped like the all of 4 mins, ok whatever you impatient bastards, I felt bad and said I’d just get on the bus, and she said she’ll drop us off somewhere further down while she attempted to communicate with the bus station.

To cut the story short, she dropped us off at this super ulu place and said that at 7.30pm the same bus will loop by that bus stop, which was great, except that it was only 5.30pm. So what did we do? Sat down and sunbathe, not that we had any alternatives. Now after baking in the Sun for half an hour, Samaritan #2 parked his car on the opposite side of the road, came over to us and asked if we were lost. The action sounds very simple but if you consider the thought processes and motivations of a person to actually do something like that, you’ll blow your brains out. In true samaritan fashion, he offered to drive us back to a much less ulu bus stop to wait for the same bus so we could shop around in the meantime. If I was sissier I’d probably have shed a tear, however I did feel so much goodness and love that I kinda forgot how bad I felt about losing the wallet. Thank you Armen from Armenia.

And the icing on the cake; I was informed by my office the next day that someone returned my wallet, intact. That’s Samaritan #3, however anonymous, thank you so much.

I’m starting to feel like “My Little Pony” opening credits.

Freakzing Weather

The temperature today dipped to an all time low since I came. It’s less than 10 degrees celsius and most of us worked without gloves on, since we this was a SUMMER work and travel programme and people don’t naturally wear gloves in Summer, unless you scoop poop at the local zoo, which in this case would be Cape May County Zoo, which is free, btw.

That’s irrelevant though. What’s relevant here is that your fingers cramp up and you find it difficult to bend them, your feet hurt when you walk because it’s so freakzing cold and all you can do to keep warm is dance to the outdated pop music they blast intermittently over the speakers. That was pretty amusing, not just to you; the bypassers probably stifled a snigger as they further ingrained their stereotype that Asians dance like penguins waddling on hot coals.

On a plus side, I’m quite certain tomorrow will be warmer, because it’s either I get a raging fever from the freakzing cold or it couldn’t get any colder than today, since I’m sure as hell not working somewhere in Antartica the last time I checked, else I would be asking for more than just USD7.17 per hour.

The First Post

Location: Wildwood, New Jersey

I’m sitting on my oversized bunk bed, shoes, bags and used tees strewn all over the already limited floorspace, and forever feeling short of breath in my room of claustrophobical proportions.

Not the best conditions to blog I’m sure. Heck, I’m not even sure why I started blogging again. I left the old one abeyant for more than half a year, and the longer I neglected it, the harder it was for me to log in and update it. Guilt maybe, the sense of denial of this lingering fear that readers had abandoned the blog, or that I didn’t really have much to write about my life. Probably all are true, but I don’t think I’ll spend too much time philosophizing about it.

Then I started skinnygiraffe. Out of the blue, unprepared, uninformed. Bam. It just happened. And in New Jersey no less, where I’ve been freezing my butt off for the past 3 weeks, a far cry from the sunny shores of Singapore. Drastic climate change does strange things to a person, but I would like to make a more intelligent postulation how the Big Bam happened. I believe it is the witnessing (for the the first time) the change in seasons. You feel the biting winds breezing through your 3 layers of clothing, 2 layers, 1 layer as days progressed, and now I sit with a thin Timberland linen shirt (purchased at USD 9.99, long live America and your ruthless price cuts!) and a pair of brown shorts. You start to see the cyclical nature of, well, Nature, and perhaps life itself.

Not that I’m complaining Singapore’s so blazin’ hot all the time, I love warm weather btw, it’s just that I’ve never experienced something like this before. And normally when you experience something you’ve not experienced before, you get an epiphany, or somewhat an enlightening moment, like the time when I found out that the addition of all the numerals in a number that is a multiplier of 3 is divisible by 3. Like wow.

Anyway, the gist of what I’m trying to say is that when a blog dies, another one pops up. So here it is. Ok, maybe that wasn’t a very good explanation. Aiya, just know that I have a new bloody blog la. I’ll be writing kinda like a travelogue since I’m gonna be staying in Pizza Land for another 2 months.

Bookmark me. I spent 1 hour doing up the header image. Jolly well show some appreciation, dammit. I mean, if you love/adore me, that is.