The Crowd-Sandwich-Que-Sandwich-Que-Sandwich phenomenon is, besides being a mouthful of non-twisty tongue twisting belligerence, a truly AWESOME way to start the day; let me break this long-winded phenomenon down:
- Who doesn't wanna begin the day with a step out of their place, into a warm, bustling crowd of lethargic faces and eager-to-board ninjas truly specialized in the skills of sneaking through any crowd to get to the front of any queue. (CROWD)
- Finally, once the ninjas have passed, it's my turn, as a big, bulky, slow-moving dude, it's understandable that,even if by some miracle I do squeeze my way onto the third or fourth bus that comes along, I'm gonna be that massive juicy burger getting squeezed into that finely packed bus, much like a multi-layer SANDWICH. (NO, no, honestly, you don't need an exceptionally high IQ to come up with that brilliant analogy)
- Then comes that brief moment of clarity once the bus is deplaned; the stroll amongst the ongoing construction works and narrowly-cordoned walking areas en-route to my next energizing endeavor; the MRT. Mass (yes, very very much mass indeed) Rapid (i suppose, when these things do move, they move pretty rapidly...WHEN they do move...) Transport (hmm...arguable...transport is defined as "a system or means of conveying people or goods from place to place" according to the Oxford Dictionary I found someplace online. Devastate, on the other hand, is described as "causing (someone) severe and overwhelming shock or grief". I'll be honest, some of these ninjas, older/younger/bigger/smaller, ALL consistently cause me shock AND grief - shock from their ruthless unleashing of the rage-monster who guides them blindly through the doors at any cost (often mine), grief from that sinking feeling that I'm going to have to wait out yet another train and risk being late to the next segment of my treacherous, I MEAN invigorating, leg of the journey.) SO, shall we? The obvious? Ok, here goes; Mass Rapid Transport?? More like Mass Rapid Devastation (of morale)! HAD TO BE DONE, it was right there, MRD. Maybe off-peak hours it can switch back to MRT, I don't know, let's be a little flexible on this here long-winded sarcastic rant, shall we? :) So yeah, right there! That ever-so-misguiding QUEUE! It's at the train, I join it, yet I never seem to enter in position that I queue...oh ninjas...
- Come on, you've caught on by now, what comes next? A jungle of arm pits attached to arms hanging off various sections of the roof, poles, what have you, OH and dreary ninjas seemingly disgruntled despite having, so strategically and with such amazing chivalry, secured their place on the MRD. This jungle, despite being a jungle of sorts, for the sake of the above abbreviation to live-on, simply must be the next, nasty, mashed up, pungent SANDWICH, assaulting every sense you could possibly have, even the sixth one, I don't know, probably.
- Then comes the unleashing of demons, the wrath of the Gods, the rush that makes The Gold Rush look like a slug-race; I call this sacred war-ground, The Interchange. Wait, no, that's what they call it. I'd go with Ground Zero or Blood Bath or something catchier. They also have many announcements on the MRD that give much very useful information like "Please mind the platform gap" and "Next station, *somethingortheother*" in that very familiar and comforting faux-Brit/American/Something accent, but for some reason, there is no announcement like "Please ready your arms for battle coming up at the interchange", or "Mind your belongings and body parts you deem necessary for survival as all can be lost at the upcoming rush". Changing trains on the way to and from work fall at the perfect hours, deadlier and more ominous than the much-dreaded witching hour (allegedly what, 3am? Something like that, some movie(s) told me so!) and changing trains at the Interchange is truly like attempting to reach up into your own chest via any orifice of your choice (I did say up, so your choices are limited - it simply must be the most painful choice) and grabbing onto your heart, pumping it manually and as hard and fast as you possibly can to supply the required blood to get yourself battle-ready to make the train-switch amongst all the highly specialized ninjas. Oh, yeah, here too, much like the initial train-mounting, there is that familiar and highly deceptive QUEUE.
- And (NO, do not EVER begin your sentence with THAT WORD!!!) at last, we come to the final bit of this agonizingly long-winded abbreviation; the final SANDWICH. No awards for guessing it; that final train, that final switch on the dreaded MRD; the one still packed as tight as the previous. The one still looming with the arm pits and dreary ninjas and so on and so forth.
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