Sunday, June 14, 2009
Keeping it Cool
Ok, I know I'm not cool. Damn, never tried to be anyway. I've always known I would be somewhat of a social outcast. Well, not outcast per se, but not entirely built to fit into a mould either. I just manage to contort myself into a social circle if I need to, albeit reluctantly sometimes.
But as usual, I digress. I'm not talking about being 'cool' as in walking the walk and talking the talk. No, I'm talking about being cool under pressure. But even that kinda cool, is something I have yet to master; because anyone who knows me knows that I sweat copiously, til I am drenched. And so, despite my placid expression or my non-panicky demeanor, a telltale sign that I am pressed, worried, rushed or desperately scared, is the sweat that drips of me like I just got out of the shower.
Last week on Tuesday night, I was put in a situation that left me sweating like I was in a sauna. I had decided to lepak for a few hours at Oldtown around 8.30 pm so that I could use the wireless net access, since my new place has yet to have an internet connection. And so I drove, and when I got there, I saw that the carwash place was still open; and thought it'd be good to have my car washed and vacuumed since it's just really dirty. So I drove to under the tent, parked, handed my keys over and went to Oldtown.
I got quite carried away surfing and uploading pictures, so it was already around 10.30++ pm when I rememebered to check the time. Deciding that I should probably get home and get ready for work the next day, I packed up and then walked towards the carwash. My heart leapt into my mouth when I saw the carwash closed. But I saw my car parked in the corner, so the immediate thought that my car was stolen was cancelled out. But then I started thinking about where my carkeys could possibly be...and that's when I noticed the note on my car. It said:
I opened every cupboard door and pulled every drawer. I even opened up a pot, only to find stale rice in it. But my keys were nowhere to be found. I think I went for about 20 minutes like that. I was sweating profusely and was ready to call Juliana to come pick me up so that I can get my spare set of keys at home. That was when three black (I wanna be politically correct and all and say African American, but I'm quite sure they weren't from the States... Ah well, you catch my drift) guys showed up in their huge Beemer looking all that.
They asked what was the matter and I tried to brush them off by nonchalantly saying that I was looking for the keys the carwash guys kept. They offered to help but I was reluctant, both out of wariness and pride. They sensed my hesitation, so instead pointed to the note in my hand and asked what it said. I translated it to the guys and just simply said, "Cooler is there", as one of them pointed towards the bright flourescent sign above a quaint little bar in the corner just about 20 feet away.
*facepalm*
I spent almost half an hour looking for a cooler box, those styrofoam or insulated boxes that kept stuff cool but to no avail. Or, if not that, then a fridge at least. But of course I couldn't find my key, because 'cooler' is apparently a bar and not at all a box. And that said bar was just next to the carwash and had a sign that announced its name in electric blue. Pandai, pandai...
How in the world would I know? A bar isn't even a blip on my radar since I do not consume alcoholic beverages, therefore a bar would not warrant a second look from me. Let alone have me remember it's name even if I did. And there was no reason for me to look up and see that bright sign that said 'Cooler'. Why would I? Since the carwash is in one corner and the bar in the other, why should my eyes be anywhere else but around the carwash place?
Malunye....
And so I said my thanks but not before... Ah yes, this wouldn't be the first time dudes like these ask for my number. And yes, they did ask for mine. And no excuses like my husband would not appreciate that or my husband looks through my phone would deter them. They 'just want to be friends', they said. *sigh* And dumb old me had my phone in my hand, and it was clearly on, since I was just about to call Juliana. So there was no way to lie and say I didn't bring my phone or it didn't have any batteries. Besides, it was dark and I wasn't about to upset three big guys. So I let them misscall my phone... But God knows I won't reply or anything. Sheesh.
So I hurried off before they could say anything else, retrieved my keys and drove off home. I was embarrassed and just plain cringing. So that's a few lessons learnt. Cooler is not a box, but a bar in Cyberjaya and please please please work on more excuses when guys ask for my phone number. This isn't the first, and won't be the last, so Linzy, once ago a excuse-giver extraordinnaire, please get back into the excuse game and work on it.
*sigh*
Keep it cool, indeed.
Love,
Linzy
- Tags cyberjaya, occasions, people
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