National Experience

Amid rumours that I'm not cool, I would like to come out
of the shadows and declare that I really am not cool.
I'm just HOT.
Sizzling Hot.

Ok, now that that mystery has been cleared and dusted;
allow me dear readers to fill you in on my latest experience
serving my country, doing all I can to protect my nation's
best interests in the NS.
NS being National Stadium and serving my country being
shouting my head off( plus the occasional 'butoh's) to spur
my national team on in the 1st leg of the prestigious ASEAN
cup finals.

It was chaos right from Kallang MRT to the dinosaur that
is the Kallang, or National stadium.
The carriage I was in was packed and our bodies were
pressed so hard against one another I felt so secured.
No poles or arm grips were necessary.
For once, Singaporeans were there for one another.
To absorb and nullify each other's inertia (Physics?)

Then, there was the mad rush to the Kallang Stadium
where Ahmad (The Other Teck Whye Kid) and I
actually jogged and panted our way there.
Well, I jogged he panted but that aint the point.

An army of red, blue and very much any colour within
the colour spectrum greeted us at the grand entrance of
the stadium.
People were selling off their tickets and their wares.
Faizal and Adib (they had our tix) were virtually invisible.
But thanks to my mobile and my eagle-eyed,er, eyes I
was able to spot the mightily big Faizal and we got our
selves TICKETS.

The match kicked off to much fanfare and wave after wave
of Kallang,uhm, Wave.
I was reserved initially, stunned by the magnitude of
the gathering and the queer Malay family to my left
who basically utilised anything in their possession to
'chope' seats for their yet-to-be-there acquaintances.
Gimme five minutes and there I was in the thick of things.
Shouting instructions to Fazrul Nawaz.
Cursing the Malaysian referee.
Throw in a blazer and a tie and you'll prolly mistaken
me for Mourinho on stilts and a botched nose job.
I have never learn the art of sign language.
But on that day I was throwing in more signs than
a traffic warden on a busy street with faulty lights.
Damn the metaphors!

I tell you, the atmosphere was great.
The sound was deafening.
And the feeling was out of this world.
Who cares what the score was?
Who cares if the Thai team played like cissies.
Who cares how Thai sashayed out of the pitch
when the referee wrongfully awarded the Lions
a penalty?
Who cares .. when you have experience the Kallang
Rawwrrrrr ...

... and the airhorn plus the resounding 'butoh'
that ensued.

Such a magical night, too bad there's a 2nd leg.