Chicken Rice War

I got the following message this morning just as I returned from lunch.

Why did you pass my no. to someone else? If you don't wanna msg me anymore, just say so, dun have to pass my no. around!!

Just for the record, the person sending this isn't some aquaintance i made in Geylang. She was a bandmate that I hadn't contacted in six months, except for some exchanges over the IRC. As I frantically went through the list of people I might have sent her business card to, I considered what exactly made her so mad which frankly speaking, sounded ludicrous.

According to her I passed her number to someone else( which was a good accusation since the number of people I might have pass her number to was insurmountable) because I did not want to message her. Frankly speaking if hadn't wanted to message her I would simply have just stopped messaging her. Sending her number to someone else was quite another matter. If it weren't for the exclaimation marks I would have deleted the message out of sheer exasperation of being robbed a few seconds of shut-eye.

But there was more. Cautiously, I scrolled down.

PANIC!? Hee.. Happy April's Fool! ;P

******

As one might have already guessed the above incident isn't really the crux of the entire post.

Some time ago(Last week actually), I went to guitar lessons in Eastpoint and got myself a rude shock. I was the only one, besides the teacher that is, there. Usually, Cedric and I would reach at approximately the same time and the teacher, a middle-aged man with an annoying ringtone set on his handphone would beacon us into Room 3 and commence his lessons. This time, however, I was alone.

Usually when I played wrong notes I could attribute it to Cedric or some other random factor. Today, I could hear how perfectly the clashing notes that I played bounce off the walls and inevitably into our ears.

After the lesson, I sauntered to the nearby foodcourt which was right below the School. Owing the lack of imagination to all the creative juices I've poured into the "My life" posts, I stood in line for Chicken Rice. I watched as a balding man in his forties deboned a pale white chicken. When I got to the front of the queue and placed my order for Roasted Chicken Rice, I realised that I was staring into the face of my Primary School Classmate, JiaXian. One of the reasons I remembered her was her unusual name, meaning Add Salt in chinese.

" Shao Ji Fan " I ordered.

"Chi Hai Shi Bao?" eating in or take-away? she asked methodically, frowning a little. I guess that she must have found me familiar.

"Chi" she frowned a little more at my monosyllabic answer and proceeded to scoop some of what I assumed to be Chicken Soup into an empty bowl while grabbing a palm full of spring onion and liberally sprinkling them onto the hot concoction.

At this point of time, I was about to ask if she was from Fengshan Primary School whe she cut off my thoughts,

"San Kuai Ban"$3.50.

I fished out two crumpled four dollar note. Without missing a heartbeat, she punched in some numbers into the cash register and gave me my change.

Seeing that there were other people behind me, I decided not to hold up the queue and took my soup . In the process I dragged the mat it was on into the chilli sauce. Feinting ignorance, I nonchantantly picked the mat up and placed it, soaking wet onto the glass support and hurried off to my seat.

During our Primary School days she was everything I was not. Ring Enforcers pasted on Pets worksheets, New Times Romans Script on her exercise books - if it weren't for her average grades, she would have passed off as a top student. And now, I found her working in a Chicken Rice Store. What are the odds, even if it is only part time? I would have guessed she got into a premier Junior College and studying her psychology degree by now.

Finishing the last piece of chicken, I decided to have a little catch up with her, even an exchange of phone numbers. Alas, it did not come to pass as her manager sharpened his cleaver and the queue grew ever longer.

Quickly, I made a U-turn and started for the escalator.

Maybe I'll ask for a free meal the next time.