On Huddled Masses

Panic not those ye that are worried that I’m about to recite the full poem from the plaque on the green copper lady in New York harbor. Those that know me are aware that I am more likely to sing the praises of the humble masses featured at People of Walmart. And full marks to Diz for pointing me to the website where my old high school has posted pictures of the reunion.

No unlike Liberty Island (or Walmart) this island has a predisposition for sudden rainfall. So there I was with kids in the back seat, steering the Syphilis to Upper Seletar Reservoir (more commonly known as the location of the Singapore Zoo), when a light shower reduced the stifling 33 degree temperature (about 90 degrees for those of you up north in my old trailer park), to a pleasant 30 degrees (around 85 degrees for you, Jeb and Cletus … well let me make it a bit easier for you boys – about as hot as the hinges of Hell).

Now those that have read some of the early work will know in fact that there is no such thing as a rain shower on The Island.

Within 30 seconds it felt like I was the captain of the Andrea Gail navigating the tempestuous seas of the Perfect Storm.

Ruing the loss of the Crustymobile for the 1,432nd time, I began to wonder whether the low slung Syphilis was able to keep forward momentum in the river, which a moment ago was the PI Expressway. The reaction from the tatertots in the backseat was slightly different – wild exuberant Oooooohs! and Aaaaahhhhs! as the buses pass us and giant waves of water surge over the mighty 1.5 litre Nissan powerhouse.

The fact that buses are passing us may give you a sense for the ripping pace at which we are driving … the correct verb may be “floating”.

So feeling a bit sad and sorry for myself all round, I am suddenly put in my place as we head under a flyover (“overpass” for you Jeb). Under the flyover there must be 150 motorbike riders and another 100 scooter riders. This impromptu assembly of the Singapore chapter of the Hells Angels is all off the bikes, huddled together, trying to keep dry. (Or maybe wondering how long a cubit is, and which animals to take on board.)

And then the heart string (yes, Diz - I do have one) was really yanked when we approach a pedestrian walkway that crosses over and above the expressway. Underneath the thin, two meter wide scaffolding, standing tightly shoulder to shoulder, next to their scooter, is a feller and his lady friend that must been riding on the back … absolutely, thoroughly soaked. I think the Irish hope for “walls for winds”, “tea beside the fire”, “laughter to cheer you” … but I think those two missed out on the “roof for the rain” part of that blessing.