For those who was not aware,
On 15th December 2011, a train on the way from Raffles Place to Jurong East suffered a fault. Most of the lights went out in the cabins and finally, the train stopped, in between City Hall and Dhoby Ghaut. The distance was negligible, really.
In between the time when the train driver was busy answering to the questions the pesky passengers posted while running here and there from cabins to cabins to solve problems and checking the train and try to get it back into working conditions, I ignored the lack of air-conditioning, the darkness, and continued reading. Soon, I alternated between napping and reading, changing to the other when one did not suit me any longer.
According to the lady sitting next to me, who informed her friend on the phone, we had been stuck in the train for about 30 minutes. I watched as the train driver rushed back to the start of the train, where we were, saying that there’s no use for “you” to follow him, for he is as stuck as “you” are. The “you” was a man who persisted in following him, whatever good it did. In between all these, the Train driver continued to speak through the PA system, assuring us that he had contacted the stations, and apologising for the lack of air conditioning, and asking us to please be patient.
I will admit it, he did not have the best of tones, the nicest of voice, but his voice kept me from panicking. It was…. warm, in a way.
Then, banging was heard. Passengers’ hopes raised, and people got out of seats. More banging, and hope did came. The driver informed us that they will open the train and let us out onto the track, one by one, and lead us to the station. Excitement is now in everyone’s blood. We were lucky, being at the head, we managed to get out quickly.
I switched off my mp3, pulled my headphones away and enjoyed the mini excursion. There was a ramp, and the head of the train was missing, or it was camouflaged or hidden or something, but the cabin ended with a hole and a ramp, and men were there at the end of the tramp, offering their hands to us, even if they were strangers stuck on this job. The driver was there too, (and if he is not the driver, I am sorry for mistaking, but it is so much easier to call you the driver) and he told us to be careful, and to take photos when we are on tracks (meaning, be careful while walking down the ramp, and don’t lose focus just because you are taking photo on the ramp… take photo on the railway tracks instead) as it is a once in a lifetime opportunity. His humour was much appreciated. I thanked him jovially and he probably did not know why.
We walked the small distance towards Dhoby Ghaut station, and entered the platform of the station through the underground railway tracks that trains run on. Those of us who were stuck on that faulted train knew what happened and went straight for the circle line, though it was later (and with humour) when I entered into the next train, that I realised that the Circle Train faulted yesterday.
The detour was not appreciated, and I had been hungry and in need of the washroom before the journey, but halfway through, I had to wonder if I my stomach needed a filling more, or if my bladder needed a leak more. According to wifey, I can do both, except not at the same time. By the time I reached Bishan station, I was amused by the man who carried the sign saying that train service towards this place was down, and the blank to state when it is back up was not filled in.
We were told by the PA system, multiple times, (that they have to change people saying it) which line is still working, and the alternatives. Well, the people back from where I came were luckier, for they had free shuttle service. The rest of us had waited and waited for the next train to come, but it never did.
I decided to make another detour, and took the Circle line further up to the east west line, where I ended it and went to the north south line again. You could imagine how exhausted I was. When I reached the Circle line again, the staff was sure that the north south line was up (at least the end that I wanted to reach) while I was sure that the entire line is now disabled. In the end, I went back again, and it was disabled, like I thought it to be.
So the detour was made. When the train reached Farrer Park, I thought of Honey (Mad woman), and smsed her, in my own words what that became a portion of a poem, because, I had never thought I would land in this situation, and this experience reminded me terribly of my lonesome travels. I wished I could bunk in with her, but no, I can’t, so I made my way obediently back up, and onto the north south line again, which had recovered (at least in the parts I wanted it to be).
And the journey took 2 hours or so.
I am exhausted. Tired. Weary. I showed my tired face so maybe people know and don’t disturb me that much. Frankly speaking, the one thing I did not want to hear, absolutely, was how bad the MRT was, with the faults and etc, but it is also the one thing that I heard. I exploded. Imagine, this is only one small part of my trying day. I don’t even want to describe the rest of it. And yet, I was forced to listen to more negativity. How much more negativity could I hold?
This entire week had been trying on me, especially emotionally. I ended up more weary than I had expected to be, and why is the weekend not here yet?
So sorry for complaining, I need to release some negativity, you see, before my beloved family members fill me up more.
