the Rain is More Different Here
or, how i failed at walking this one time.
I've been living in Singapore for the past four months. Surprise! This makes me glad, for it means that I did not have to suffer through the strange cold and dampness that is a Canadian autumn. I got more than I bargained for when I escaped, though. Much, much more. I didn't even know. Well, I knew. I just didn't know that I knew.
A Tweet of mine from about a year back states that, “I didn't know cabbages had flowers. I mean, I know it has flowers, as it is a plant, but when I think of cabbages I just think of the cabbage part. Y'know, cabbages.” Or something along those lines. I'm paraphrasing Jack-of-the-past, I'm sure he doesn't mind.
That's how it was with Singapore. I know full well that it is a tropical, equatorial country, and that certain weather comes with that. What I didn't factor in was that tropical, equatorial countries experience two seasons: wet, and more wet. Yah. So although I escaped the cold, I've had to deal with about a million times the damp.
End preamble. Begin prologue.
God has millions of bottomless buckets up in heaven. Since the beginning of time he has been filling these millions of buckets with water. However, he is a kind God, and the water he uses is warm, only slightly colder than air temperature (which, when hovering at 30 degrees Celsius is a big deal). Sometimes, when God is feeling particularly mischievous and mirthful, he decides to dumb the entire contents of these buckets onto the island of Singapore. It is during one of these fits of celestial merrymaking that our story takes place.
End prologue. Begin scene.
Jack is hungry for some noms, and only one thing will stifle his hankering. He wants a sammich. Desperately. Looking out his window, he sees a thunderstorm gathered in full force: lightning painting the sides of buildings stark white, thunderclaps rolling through the campus like heavy bass (musical bass, not fish, like), and rain forming a new sea in the town green. A glorious day in Singapore, to say the least.
His desperation overpowers the weather, however, and he manages to gather a few friends to set out to the food-selling area of campus.
“I'm hungry for noms!” he proclaims loudly, mimicking the action of eating a burger. He does this often.
With his troupe he marches to the cafeteria, ducking under covered walkways whenever they can. Despite their efforts, the right side of their bodies become soaked due to the slant of the wind. Two friends make to dash into the cafeteria, encased in glass, but Jack stops them.
“I hunger not for Asian food!”
This sentiment in mind, the party shuffles past Hwang's Korean and the Bruce Cafe. Jack has his eyes on one particular prize: Subway.
“I have had exactly this many sammiches since arriving in Singapore,” he says, holding up three fingers to no-one in particular. “That is one a month. That is unacceptable.”
And so they go to Subway. Thoroughly soaked, but excited for sammiches.
I shall spare you the details about the delicious sandwich I enjoyed that afternoon and instead skip to the next important portion of the story, in which the subtitle of this chapter is invoked.
Jack and his friends are still in the Subway seating area, sufficiently satisfied. God's bucket seems to be finally spilling less water, so it is decided that now would be a good time to head back to the student residences. Heads nod in agreement, everyone stands, and moves are made to exit.
All except Jack.
One of the friends tells Jack to hurry up. Jack replies that he's trying. The friends respond with confused looks.
“My denim is soaked,” he mumbles. “I can't bend my knees. Cannot, lah!”
Suffice to say, Jack had to perform an awkward half-waddle in order to return to his room and peel the wet denim from his body. The end.