Airplane Toilet ‘Adventure’

Don't know if anyone noticed, but living in this modern age, especially if you live in the city, precious little moments that allow our mind to do a bit of wondering are, really, quite rare.

Just the other day, while flying (on a plane, of course), there was this odd momentary reminder that one such precious instance is when we are sitting in the toilet, simply waiting (to put it mildly). It is truly quiet and it is, strangely, serene; these are moments where we can actually forget about our worldly worries, and simply let our mind wonder.

And wonder I did.


As we know, most flights these days are non-smoking. So, as taking a commercial flight goes, you are reminded time and again that "... this is a non smoking flight ... we like to remind you that smoking in the lavatory is prohibited ...". Well, OK, OK, point understood.

If you happen have to attend to nature's call and had to take a dump while flying, and, if actually open your eyes while you try to soothe your bowel, you'll notice the very prominent in-your-face 'No Smoking' sign in the lavatory. Well, fine. But I looked again, and in this case, not far from this sign, I saw an ... ashtray! Yes, an ashtray, no doubt about it.

Now, I was thinking, what came first: the 'No Smoking' sign or the ashtray? OK, OK, some planes are old and some of these ashtrays are probably legacy items. But the plane I was on, it was new; the non-smoking flight policies must have been around for quite years already. For such a new plane, it is curious indeed.

As I couldn't quite figure out how the ashtray got there, there was really not much I could do inside such a boring place, so I continued to looked around while I continue to wait.

Hmm, what’s this, paper cups? What for? My eyes instantly darted towards the tap, perhaps trying to mentally link the paper cups with something in order to make sense of it. But hang on, right above the tap it says 'Not Drinking Water'.

Now, I got really curious again. If the water is not fit for drinking, why provide paper cups in there, right next to the taps? What if someone cannot read!

Strange place this is, I thought.

I tried to finish my business in there as soon as I can, and, as these things goes, you end up cleaning yourself up, and you try to clean the toilet up – by flushing that is. And, you know, some days, maybe because of what you have eaten, some of these things your drop into the bowl, they are just stickier that usual – so sticky that even an aggressive airplane air-jet enhanced flush will not dislodge the stubborn piece of … thing, from the bowl.

What now? I don’t really want to leave this place like this and have the next person come in here and be totally disgusted by the sight! Panic? No, not really, concerned, yes! What do I do now? What do I do now! Frantically, I look around the small little space hoping that a miracle will somehow appear.

Then, I saw it … Aha! That’s what the paper cups and not-fit-for-drinking water are for! Sometimes, when something doesn't make sense to us, it does not mean it is really meaningless.

Immigrant needs to be fierce for survival?

From the fierce woman in my Really Fierce post, I do realize this kind of attitude is not at all uncommon in Singapore; perhaps it does exist elsewhere too but I noticed this to be particular prevalent amongst fellow Singaporeans.

I recall many years ago, when I was a younger adult, a friend of mine told me he was unexpectedly admonished by his father when he, nonchalantly, gave way to another car filtering into the lane in front of him. Huh? (Yes, I don't think this is at all unfamiliar to Singaporeans.)

He thought nothing of it at first. He was driving the car and someone else wanted to filter into the lane in front of him so, as one would normally do, he let the other car into his lane. No issue, or so he thought. His father, who was sitting in the car too, was upset when he did that, and out came a sternly Hokkien-version of "Why you so kayu?" (kayu: lousy in Singlish)

Where did we learn to be so ... kiasu? (kiasu: In this case, in the 'I don't want to, or appear to, loose out even if it does not matter a teeny weeny bit' kind of way.)

Did we inherit this innate fear of coming across as the weakling from our forefathers? No?

Having had the chance to travel to a number of countries, including South East Asian countries, I couldn't help but notice that such peculiar crassitude is more common in fellow Singaporeans.

Another time, in a Bangkok restaurant, my wife and I noticed a Singaporean family on the next table. Well, as things sometimes go in Thailand, the food took a while to be served. Not that they were extremely slow, but in this case, it was slow enough for us to begin to wonder. My wife and I was just about to worry about our food and if our waiter had gotten our orders right; note that this is a mid-range eatery where the waiters are not that fluent in English.

This was when we heard the family at the next table calling for the waiter, in Singapore accented English, and probed, sarcastically, "Where's our food? You still cutting the vegetables ah?" The waitress went, in a dutifully compliant tone of voice, "Ka, ka" and something else, then scuttled away towards the kitchen. Five minutes later, our Singaporean family was at it again. This time, it was after they had their dishes, but the rice took a while longer to arrive. "You still boiling the rice ah?", went the lady of that family, like she was barking at her maid. Again, the waitress hurried into the kitchen.

Note that all that happened in the presence of their kids. I'm sure the kids will learn from this that it is perhaps their god given right to bark at people!

My wife, who by then was wearing a frown on her face – rolled her eyes in apparent disgust. I responded with a slight shaking of my head, hoping to, telepathically, tell her, without being too obvious, that these are the people who make us Singaporeans look bad. Well, after the dinner, just to be sure, I told her what I thought while we were having a little talk about the unpleasantness that we saw.

Come on, you are in another country! It doesn't look like you even bother to learn a little of their language, and you talk to them like you are their superior. Yes, you are a paying customer – so what!

Should I have told them off in their face? Honestly, I did entertain that thought, but that would make me no different to them. Besides, my wife and I were on a holiday and we were trying to relax.

People do need to realize that when they travel, their behavior, good or bad, reflects on Singaporeans in general.

The curious question is, where is the source of our aggressiveness? Did our forefathers, who were mainly immigrant, had to deliberately be bolder than thy neighbor in order to deal with the challenges that face new immigrants? Perhaps, to deal with possibly bullying from the early immigrant turned residents here? Plausibly?

Why so fierce, we Singaporeans? Something to do with our immigrant heritage, perhaps, or is it something else?

Really Fierce

This blog, strangely, was inspired – no, more like stirred up – by a rather unpleasant woman I almost had the displeasure of banging into.

This happened just last week, in Toa Payoh Central, just outside of the HDB Hub. It was a quiet weekday evening, with hardly anyone along the – I would say, wide – walkway. I was on my own, having done my chore and was walking briskly back to the hub. I had something that I wanted to throw as I was nearing the entrance of the hub. "Is that a dustbin?" I thought. "Eh no. Ah, it's over there."; momentarily, I couldn't decide which direction I was going as I looked right, half went left, then turned right.

Hey, it was a weekday evening and there was hardly anyone on the wide walkway, not much wrong with that, right? Wrong, it seems.

"uhhh, uhh, uh, Oy, oy, oy oy", I heard someone mumbled as I finally, somewhat abruptly, decided to turn right. Suddenly, as I realized the source of that mumbling, I found myself inches from this woman's face – wearing that what-the-hell-are-you-doing look. I shall not describe further what I think of her look.

I swerved, of course, and avoided banging into her. Not thinking too much of it, instinctively, I was mumbling a quick "Oops, sorry." But, almost at the same time, I heard a stern "Don't know how to see ah!"

"Wah lao eh!", was my exact thought – and also happened to be my exact words. She, nonchalantly, went her way, like it was nothing more than a sneeze what came out of her mouth a moment earlier.

Wah lao eh! Why did she have to walk so closely behind me in a wide walkway when there was hardly anyone around? And, without eyes at the back of my head, how to see behind? Of course cannot see lah! There is absolutely no need to be so fierce right? My goodness! It was infuriating, and that was all because, for that split second, I couldn't decide which was a dustbin. Wha ...

For no reason at all, out of the blue, I was left boiling. Of course, for a while, many versions of stupid this stupid that kept swirling in my head.

As I calmed down, I was left with this burning question: why, instead of letting go of something that is really nothing to begin with, some people would rather utter stupid things and perhaps escalating it into a possibly, ugly confrontation? Pointless bravado, or plain stupidity?

Fiercer than thy neighbor – is that part of Singapore's culture? Hope not.