Meet the People (and the Pirate)

So I went to the Meet-the-People session (MPS) in my vicinity today, as in meet the MP. I decided I should be doing something to try end this 3-year ban on possessing my passport considering it’s only been freaking SEVEN months out of THIRTY SIX. I can’t take it anymore, this sudden impulse of wanting to go out of the country and realizing, DAMN, I don’t have a passport. And now that I’m planning the Yogyakarta trip for March next year, the threat of not being able to GO there is actually quite real.

The MPS is held every monday at 7.30pm at a block across the street, so at 6.45pm I strutted my way there. Boy… was there a queue or WHAT? My elder sis did warn me about it, and how I should come as early as I can just to get my name on the list.

In the room, which is obviously a kindergarten classroom in the daytime, was filled with about 30-odd people. As I looked around, I suddenly felt like I shouldn’t be there. There were so many elderly folks, some with equally old friends, probably appealing for waiver of bills or financial help. There were a few disabled folks, in wheelchairs, one visually impaired, There were also many couples with 3,4 kids in tow, probably also applying for financial help or subsidies. Babies? Aplenty. There was one, about 3 months old, with a severely cleft lip. His parents were holding on tight to envelopes upon envelopes marked with the KK hospital logo.

I actually brought a book knowing that I’d have to wait for a while, but I thought, maybe I shouldn’t take it out. Then I’d REALLY look like my ‘problem’ is a real joke.

What the hell am I doing here? I asked myself. There are people here with actual REAL problems, and here I am trying to get a passport ban lifted just so I could go on holiday? Sheeeeshhh.

I started having second thoughts about seeing the MP. The seats were filled up and everyone started chatting one another up, like ’so what are you here for?’ That’s when I heard all the problems… the old lady whose only source of income is her grandson in NS, the man whose flat’s monthly instalments are way over his head, the two old women who are appealing to HDB to allow them to rent a flat together… damn… they’re all gonna scowl (and maybe pummel me) if they know what I’m here for.

So I was about to back out… maybe I’ll try this again some other day. That was when my name was called up. I walked up to a booth. This old man was peering through his glasses at the computer screen. I curtly said ‘Good evening’ to him and he said ‘Ha? Your name what?’

Grrreat. Just great.

I didn’t even say much, just told him about my 3 lost passports, need to apply new one, and he nicely tried to squeeze in a snide remark, how the old folks he saw before me were so thankful to him: their wheelchair-bound daughter needs a letter to back her up in getting a job to support the elderly parents. ‘How can I not help them, kor-rect? This type of people need help, gahmen must help, kor-rect?’

Ya lah ya lah uncle…. I get it lah…. my bad.

‘So in this letter, I write, you promise not to lose your passport anymore, ok? I say you promise to be very careful with your new passport.’

‘Okay, I promise (un-kerrrr),’ I replied like the good girl I am.

He wished me good luck, nonetheless. And shouted out “The new passport must take care properly hokay!!!”
Thanks for blowing my cover man.

After that, I was called into the room where the MP’s No.2 man was in. Apparently my MP is ‘overseas’ so his No.2 will sign for him. This old chap was much better. Shook my hand, sure, he pronounced my name wrong (don’t they all?) but he bothered to listen to me. And he was somehow quite impressed (amazed?) that I actually am a teacher (‘wah, in Secondary school ah?’) probably wondering how a klutz like me could get by teaching without losing real human beings.

He signed the letter that the previous uncle wrote, smiled and said, good luck. Just wait for the letter from ICA.

I’m just keeping my fingers crossed, not getting my hopes up too high… still aware that I may eventually have to wait THREE YEARS. :S

On a lighter note, I’ve actually got my outfit for my school’s D&D which is this Thursday night. It’s a horrible theme, I think: Pirates. How much variety and creativity can there be? Everyone will be having an eye patch, a sword, a ruffled shirt, a hook, well maybe somebody will have a parrot on the shoulder (that’s me!). As much as I protest, I (grudgingly) bought an outfit- a red and white striped long sleeve t-shirt, big hoop earrings, a skull print scarve as a bandana, a pirate hat and parrot (thank god for Ooyah’s toy collection), but no eyepatch. Maybe I’ll make do without it. I might even buy a long silver chain with a skull pendant although I will never ever find a reason to wear it again.

So that’s my story about the meet-the-people session. And now, it’s time for YOU to meet the pirate.

Ye... sayalah lanun yang kejam!

 

Pirate wench: Kooooochi koochi kooo! Geletek perut dia!                                                                                                                         Burung parrot: *hheeheehaaahaa* stop! Tolong stop! Ampunkan saya!

 

Alamak, cameraman, tolong! Anting-anting saya tersangkut!

Pirate short-sighted terlupa nak bukak specs.