Thirty Minutes Over KL
It was a hot day indeed. Taking shelter beneath the LRT station's roof might have shielded me from the sun's death rays, but not quite completely immune from the hot air that swirled around the enclosure; choking, suffocating all of us into a slow and painful death.
It was five-thirty, and rush hour was just beginning. As usual the train arrived after a few minutes' worth of waiting. To pass the time, one must either stare blankly at the snarling traffic down below or attempt to read something simply because the boredom will drive any sane person off the edge.
The doors of the train opened, and I stepped in along with thousands of other mindless drones, the million-mile stare the only common trait we shared. Finding an empty seat was a matter of pure luck and just how much you were willing to spill the other fellow's guts in order to attain that precious place to rest your ass. I was lucky enough to find one without having to resort to kiling anyone this time around.
Suddenly, my nose picked up a strange smell. It wasn't dog poo nor having a dead rat stuck to the soles of your shoes, but something more alarming. It was a cross between rotten eggs and Jay Chou (yes the smell was that bad).
Frantically my eyes started scanning the immediate perimeter of the train, expecting a mass stampede soon ala Resident Evil when the scientists discover the deadly T-Virus present in the air and merrily turning humans into zombies. It could only be me you know, detecting this foul odor in the air. The fact that the train's air-conditioner disperses the terrific stench evenly only makes things worse.
Sure enough, the two Malay ladies sitted across me started to shield their noses with their fingers. Somehow the way one of them momentarily cupped her whole palm over her nose reminded me of a fighter pilot jet caught 50,000 feet above sea level with no ammunition and fuel left. Maybe it's only me.
The source was eventually traced back to a tall, lanky fellow just right beside me! I kinda solved the foul (no pun intended) mystery and it terrified me to know he was only probably five inches to my right. He wasn't exactly a sloppy individual; in fact he was dressed so sartly in his work attire that if you put a clothes peg over your nose he would just be any other normal man. Tall, dark, handsome, and stinks to high hell. And to think that I forgot to lug along my Desert Storm-era gas mask. Of all the days, I tell myself.
He continued to be the source of our torment and misery as the train went past KL city and he continued to waft out poison fumes. A number of them originally standing a few feet away from him started to move to the adjacent carriage, all the while staring daggers at him. I stayed put, shocked and paralysed from the odor enveloping me. Pudu station. Great, maybe he'll leave by the next one or two stops, I tell myself. More people moved away from ground zero. It's amazing that everyone held on to their lunches so well.
Cheras station. Still he did not budge even a bit. Those nearest to him have already turned green from severe lack of fresh oxygen. Slowly and painfully I turned to see if he was actually decomposing. Perhaps that might explain that smell. One girl threw up. I think she had scrambled eggs for lunch, or maybe that's part of her digestive system heaved up along with the puke. I don't know.
Bandar Tun Razak. Mr. Smell-O was still firmly in his seat, probably smirking to himself at the sight of the body count rising. I managed not to pass out by regulating my breathing pattern and making full use of my nostril hair, acting as a filter in those desperate moments. I thought of writing a final letter to tell my mum and dad how much I love them.
A guy about three feet away from me developed boils all over his face due to the long exposure to the acrid chemically-charged air. It was undeniably horrible as those pus-filled abscesses blew up in clusters, spilling onto the floor. I think he died shortly later. Poor bastard.
And at the Sg. Besi terminal, when nearly 90% of the whole train's population was near-dead, he finally got up and left, leaving a trail of death and destruction along the way down the escalator as more innocent civillians just dropped dead like flies. I passed out shortly after.
That was the second time I was so close to cashing in my chips, the first time being at Pangkor. I hope not to meet that evil-smelling guy again as long as I live. God knows how many of my brain cells have died in that traumatic incident. Note to self: remember to carry gas mask always, come rain or shine. Add body deodorant to first-aid kit for spraying all future smelly suckers til they reek of something unlike Jay Chou anymore.
Failing which, as a last desperate measure, please insert claymore into offending individual's available orifice and detonate it. Death should be instantaneous.
TRIVIA
01: The title is a play on the movie (and book of the same name) Thirty Seconds Over Tokyo.
It was five-thirty, and rush hour was just beginning. As usual the train arrived after a few minutes' worth of waiting. To pass the time, one must either stare blankly at the snarling traffic down below or attempt to read something simply because the boredom will drive any sane person off the edge.
The doors of the train opened, and I stepped in along with thousands of other mindless drones, the million-mile stare the only common trait we shared. Finding an empty seat was a matter of pure luck and just how much you were willing to spill the other fellow's guts in order to attain that precious place to rest your ass. I was lucky enough to find one without having to resort to kiling anyone this time around.
Suddenly, my nose picked up a strange smell. It wasn't dog poo nor having a dead rat stuck to the soles of your shoes, but something more alarming. It was a cross between rotten eggs and Jay Chou (yes the smell was that bad).
Frantically my eyes started scanning the immediate perimeter of the train, expecting a mass stampede soon ala Resident Evil when the scientists discover the deadly T-Virus present in the air and merrily turning humans into zombies. It could only be me you know, detecting this foul odor in the air. The fact that the train's air-conditioner disperses the terrific stench evenly only makes things worse.
Sure enough, the two Malay ladies sitted across me started to shield their noses with their fingers. Somehow the way one of them momentarily cupped her whole palm over her nose reminded me of a fighter pilot jet caught 50,000 feet above sea level with no ammunition and fuel left. Maybe it's only me.
The source was eventually traced back to a tall, lanky fellow just right beside me! I kinda solved the foul (no pun intended) mystery and it terrified me to know he was only probably five inches to my right. He wasn't exactly a sloppy individual; in fact he was dressed so sartly in his work attire that if you put a clothes peg over your nose he would just be any other normal man. Tall, dark, handsome, and stinks to high hell. And to think that I forgot to lug along my Desert Storm-era gas mask. Of all the days, I tell myself.
He continued to be the source of our torment and misery as the train went past KL city and he continued to waft out poison fumes. A number of them originally standing a few feet away from him started to move to the adjacent carriage, all the while staring daggers at him. I stayed put, shocked and paralysed from the odor enveloping me. Pudu station. Great, maybe he'll leave by the next one or two stops, I tell myself. More people moved away from ground zero. It's amazing that everyone held on to their lunches so well.
Cheras station. Still he did not budge even a bit. Those nearest to him have already turned green from severe lack of fresh oxygen. Slowly and painfully I turned to see if he was actually decomposing. Perhaps that might explain that smell. One girl threw up. I think she had scrambled eggs for lunch, or maybe that's part of her digestive system heaved up along with the puke. I don't know.
Bandar Tun Razak. Mr. Smell-O was still firmly in his seat, probably smirking to himself at the sight of the body count rising. I managed not to pass out by regulating my breathing pattern and making full use of my nostril hair, acting as a filter in those desperate moments. I thought of writing a final letter to tell my mum and dad how much I love them.
A guy about three feet away from me developed boils all over his face due to the long exposure to the acrid chemically-charged air. It was undeniably horrible as those pus-filled abscesses blew up in clusters, spilling onto the floor. I think he died shortly later. Poor bastard.
And at the Sg. Besi terminal, when nearly 90% of the whole train's population was near-dead, he finally got up and left, leaving a trail of death and destruction along the way down the escalator as more innocent civillians just dropped dead like flies. I passed out shortly after.
That was the second time I was so close to cashing in my chips, the first time being at Pangkor. I hope not to meet that evil-smelling guy again as long as I live. God knows how many of my brain cells have died in that traumatic incident. Note to self: remember to carry gas mask always, come rain or shine. Add body deodorant to first-aid kit for spraying all future smelly suckers til they reek of something unlike Jay Chou anymore.
Failing which, as a last desperate measure, please insert claymore into offending individual's available orifice and detonate it. Death should be instantaneous.
TRIVIA
01: The title is a play on the movie (and book of the same name) Thirty Seconds Over Tokyo.
Labels: Imagination
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