711 disaster

After playing badminton till 3 pm on thursday, I finally decided that it was time to head for German lesson. However, it turned out that when I reached there someone told me that there was no lesson. For having wasted such a trip, I felt a little discontented and so I decided to salvage the 'wastedness' of the trip to have lunch somewhere nearby.

I headed down towards Serangoon MRT station and had a quick survey of the locality map, looking out for any shopping center. I saw 'Upper Serangoon Shopping Center' a walking distance northeast to my current location and thus I made up my mind to try having lunch there.

After walking for a little while I felt rather easy. I wouldn't have mind taking a walk in the park, but walking along old roads, Serangoon Road, with the run down shophouses and light industries was not very comfortable. Hot, dirty air, having to constantly watch the ground for puddles of sewer, uneven floor, awkward pieces of rock and concrete jutting out from the curb and the need to manoeuvre your way round thrown out boxes and plastic chairs.

Finally I found Upper Serangoon Shopping Centre which I would have thought was a factory had I not seen the sign on the utilities room. After jumping over a drain and walking along a lonely alley, I reached the entrance. It was one of those old style shopping centers like Bras Basah, Lion statues all over the place, the nauseating presence of incense, either red bricks tiling the floor or grey concrete.

I wouldn't even think of visiting such shopping centers if I didn't have to. I doubt I would find a good lunch there. Disappointed, I walked out to the main road and proceeded to Kovan Station to take a bus home.

Along the way I had my attention caught by 'a sign of civilisation', a seven eleven shop front. It had a tiny entrance, just two glass panels for doors, with the counter just a few steps away from the entrance.

I reckon I should get a drink.

The counter occupied the top left of the shop, which already covered half its space. To the right of the counter, in what was pathetically called the remaining space, was lined with refrigerators which only had half a meter of space from the counter. Opening the doors was already difficult. I reached my hand in to get a drink in an awkward position. I tried to reverse my way out after closing the fridge, but something was stuck. Out of the corner of my eye I saw something teetering back and forth, but I did not think much about it as I was worried. I figured that I would soon find out what it was when I got out of my crammy space to have a better view.

Fright makes people do stupid things.

My bag dragged what appeared to be a plastic rack of assorted condoms and bottles of what I think were lubricants. The entire shop was covered in them, since the shop was tiny to begin with. I just remembered myself feeling very shocked at first, followed by fear, and no number of apologies I made was able to pacify my feelings. I did not know whether the male shop owner was feeling pissed or pitiful of me, but he was putting on a friendly front and told me that it was okay, although his facial expression was rather dull. What made it worse was that the plastic rack shattered into smithereens. The owner got a basket and we put the products into it. I picked up the pieces of the shelf with my bare hands with the childish notion that the owner was going to see how sorry I was that I go to the risk of injuring myself. Like I said, fright makes people think and act irrationally.

People who wanted to come into the shop opened the door and left. It was very embarrassing. Now, I had no money to pay for the broken shelf. I forked out $4.40 to offer to pay for the damage which I knew that he was reject, but I could not think of anything else to do. The least I could do was to buy everything I could worth $4.40, but irrationality caused me to put back the drink I wanted to buy when he asked me whether I wanted to buy it, and instead I replied 'never mind', and I just walked out like that.

At that point, just after I walked out of the shopfront, I felt a feeling I have never felt before, a tinge of embarrassment which refused to part with me concocted with guilt. A feeling that made me feel like I have just committed a crime, one that have tarnished my life forever. I have never blundered so greatly in public before. And even if I did not tell my parents; as if there was a need to, I regret the feeling of facing anyone at that moment.

Such unpredictable things happen in life. I lived in comfort for too long. Such a happening, relatively minute to others, has shocked me so greatly.

The only thing I kept on telling myself on the way home was to go straight home after school next time and not to wander about, especially into unfamiliar places. I would have been resting at home an hour ago and yet I was then still on the bus, filled with my concoction of fright, shock, embarrassment and guilt.

What made it rather ironic was that I saw Heartland Mall when I reached Kovan. Why did I have to stop at Serangoon?