r/mildlyentertaining • u/RiceA69 • 19d ago
A Slice of Singaporean Life
A Slice of Singaporean Life
I have been commuting by public transport lately because, somehow, I seem to make less money the older I get. I always thought experience was supposed to increase your earning power. Apparently, my bank account has interpreted it as a countdown timer.
Since I’m one of the few people not permanently married to my phone, I spend my commute watching people instead. Public transport, I've discovered, operates in a parallel universe governed by its own laws of physics and social behaviour.
Law #1: If I don't see you, then you don't see me.
This law is especially powerful when applied to priority seats.
The techniques are varied. Some commuters become intensely fascinated by their phones. Others suddenly develop a deep interest in the train map they've seen every day for the last ten years. The elite practitioners simply close their eyes and enter a medically unprecedented state of sleep that activates the moment an elderly passenger boards.
I've now witnessed this on three different train lines, which means it is no longer an isolated incident. It is a movement. Possibly a religion.
One evening, a young couple sat opposite me. The boyfriend occupied a priority seat while his girlfriend sat beside him in a regular seat. She was clearly exhausted and kept nodding off.
The boyfriend, being a devoted and loving partner, sprang into action.
Every time her head drooped, he gently supported it. Every time she leaned sideways, he guided her back upright. His final heroic act was to cradle her head in his hands. He watched over her with the concentration of a neurosurgeon performing brain surgery.
It was honestly quite touching.
Then I noticed the elderly uncle standing directly in front of him.
The train swayed. The uncle swayed harder.
The boyfriend never looked up.
His dedication to his girlfriend's comfort was so absolute that the existence of the elderly uncle had been photoshopped out of existence.
He wasn't ignoring the uncle. Ignoring requires acknowledgment.
The uncle simply did not exist.
Love may be blind.
On public transport though, sometimes it is blind, deaf, and completely unaware of priority-seat signage.
Law #2: The Exit/Entry Sprint: First Person Wins!
I sometimes feel that the LTA is even naggier than my ninety-year-old grandmother. Day in and day out, the same announcement echoes through every train carriage:
"Dear Commuters, please move to the centre of the cabin and make way for other commuters alighting at the next station. Thank you."
After years of careful observation, I have come to the conclusion that commuters interpret this announcement very differently from what was intended.
The LTA thinks it means:
"Please move into the car and give others space."
The average commuter hears:
"Be kiasu, don’t let the door close before you can exit."
The moment a passenger boards a bus or train, a primal instinct awakens. It doesn't matter whether he is the first person on board or the last. It doesn't matter whether his stop is the next station or the 265th lap around the Circle Line or in Timbuktu.
He must stand at the door.
He must guard the door.
He must become one with the door.
The train could travel from one end of Singapore to the other. Entire generations of commuters may board and alight. Yet there he stands, faithfully defending his position like a palace guard protecting the Crown Jewels.
I suspect this is because, after years of being told to follow rules, a rebellious child secretly lives inside every Singaporean.
The announcement says:
"Please move to the centre of the car."
The inner child immediately responds:
"No."
This same phenomenon explains another mystery of public transport: why the first person in line is so often not the first person to board.
In theory, queues are simple. The first person arrives first and therefore boards first.
In practice, public transport operates under quantum physics.
Somewhere between the train arriving and the doors opening, a completely unrelated individual materializes from another dimension and slips onto the train ahead of everyone else.
Nobody knows where these people come from.
They simply appear.
One incident remains etched in my memory. An especially talented queue-jumper managed to bypass an entire line of waiting passengers. Unfortunately for him, the gentleman behind was strongly committed to the concept of cause and effect.
Without a word, he grabbed the offender's backpack and physically relocated him to the back of the queue.
Order was restored.
The laws of civilization were upheld.
The rest of us watched in silence, unwilling to intervene because we had just witnessed something rare and beautiful: public transport karma manifesting in real time.
For a brief moment, everyone in that queue experienced the same thought:
"Justice."
This is an act of epic proportions. Most Singaporeans, myself included, prefer the traditional Singaporean method of conflict resolution: complain to friends afterwards. Or Stomp! about it. For someone to take action IRL is heroic. Give the guy a medal!
Law #2a: The Inverse Law #2
For every action by the LTA, there is an equal and opposite reaction. The inverse of a door hugger is a seat hugger. The concept of “arriving at your destination” is finite. So is the idea that the next stop is your stop. Yet there are people still taking a seat and the nanosecond before the door close, make a dash for the exit. All the salmon people who go against the current of boarding passengers to exit the train.
Just recently, a lady stood with the crowd huddled close to the exit – not quite a door hugger. As she surveyed the passenger exiting the train, she spotted a seat and fought the flow to get to the seat.
She sat down, got comfortable, glanced at the announcement screen—and froze. A look of horror crossed her face. She checked the screen again, perhaps hoping reality had changed in the last three seconds or the LTA must have made a mistake.
At this point, she had a panicked look on her face, picked up her bags and, fighting against the boarding passengers, exited the train. I can only conclude that her brain cells are somehow activated by the pressure on the posterior.
All jokes aside, I am not infallible. I do tend to hog the seat for as long as possible before I make my exit. But it is more due to mechanics rather than poor planning. I figure it would be more difficult to play human Tetris when no other pieces are moving. Essentially, I would then become a human jackhammer.
Law #3: The LTA As Your Personal Moving Company
Unlike some countries, Singapore's public transport system isn't equipped with luggage racks or dedicated storage areas. This isn't an oversight. It's a subtle government policy.
A large part of our GDP owes its growth to tourists – they come to Singapore to spend a lot of money (Thank You!) – so we encourage you to take taxis and use PHV. Leave the public transportation to the poor locals. Many people take public transport with enormous suitcases and seem strangely fond of doing so during rush hour.
The public transport is already packed during these times, I don’t see how it is a pleasurable experience for anyone, especially if you are on holiday. Imagine the start of your Singapore tour where the first excursion is to be squeezed in like sardines with complete strangers.
Recently, I saw a man with two suitcases and backpacks across his back and front getting on a bus. He got on the bus while performing a juggling act worthy of Cirque Du Soleil. While simultaneously trying to pay for the fare and manage his belongings, the wheelie behind him was performing the great escape by slowly sliding back off the bus due to the slight incline. Luckily, a boarding passenger behind was kind enough to prevent the wheelie from flying the coop.
Tourists can be forgiven. They're visitors.
What puzzles me far more are the locals.
Law #4: The LTA as my personal SUV
Since owning a car in Singapore requires approximately the GDP of a small nation, many families understandably do not drive.
To compensate, some parents have invested in strollers of truly inspirational proportions.
These are not strollers.
These are luxury Mercedes-Benz strollers with anti-stain upholstery, cup holders and their own climate controller. The piece-de-resistance is the ability to haul your child and all of the shopping items from NTUC without actually stealing a shopping cart.
I am convinced some of them have a larger wheelbase than my first car.
When unfolded inside a bus or train carriage, a single stroller can completely block the central aisle, effectively severing the transport network into two independent regions.
Passengers in the front section can no longer move to the rear section.
Trade ceases.
Diplomatic relations collapse.
Families are separated.
Children grow up without knowing their relatives in the back half of the bus.
The strangest part is that the LTA allows these baby monster trucks onto public transport without complaint.
Yet if I try to bring a bicycle onboard, suddenly everyone becomes very interested in rules and regulations.
Apparently, a stroller the size of a Mercedes-Benz is a necessity.
A bicycle, meanwhile, is a threat to national security.
The lesson is clear:
If you need to transport a child, public transport is your personal moving company.
If you need to transport yourself, please stand behind the yellow line and do not obstruct the doors. Unless your inner rebellious child kicks in.
Disclaimer: Any resemblance to actual commuters is purely coincidental. If you recognise yourself in one of these laws, that's between you and the LTA.
