nekomatta

Thursday, June 29, 2006

Past love, frustration and rage, something had snapped inside my conscience yesterday. After dodging rapid firing emotional shots, I had gone to bed with one resolution: if it does not cross the line of being potentially hazardous to my well being (and the people around me) or borderline stupidity (and I mean obnoxiously stupid), do one thing you're afraid of every day.

I woke up today, strong and determined to do one thing that scared me. That is, if the opportunity presented itself...

Actually, I had gone to bed without remembering I was supposed to drive somewhere today.

Let's get something straight. I'm not afraid of driving. As badly as my execution could ever be, I love to drive. I love playing in traffic (when it moves that is), the speed, the adrenaline rush, the fast and the furious! Well hey now, I just ripped off a movie title, fancy that.

And some might argue that I've nearly killed them in the process in my thrill to satiate my need for speed. List of near-casualties include (but is most definitely not limited to): Chris, Cina, Yees, Vee, Mei, Joo, Melisa, Noel, Paulo, Nico and uhm... well, basically anyone who's sat in a car with me as the driver and has screamed out loud or have visibly lost a healthy dose of color by the end of the journey ;) Oh yeah, Josh and Gary don't really count. They're too busy nodding off to the rhythm of their yawns for the most part to realize they've even boarded a moving vehicle. Which is quite a feat if you think about, considering they have to walk to my car.

I don't think I'm as scary as Aaron though, really.

No, it's got nothing to do with the fact that I'm an Asian woman.

But I digress! Granted, changing lanes on the highway in the midst of Malaysian traffic itself gives you the same five nanosecond heart-stopping action you'd get from initially getting dropped free fall off a twenty storey building. Think I'm bluffing? Have you ever tried changing lanes while a Kancil is seemingly blocks away? Just as you hit that signal... before the circuit even has time to react, the Kancil flies past you at vehicle rattling, earth shaking sonic speed fueled by unseen demonic forces that leave an imaginary trail of blazing hellish fire... missing you by a pitiful hairsbreadth.

So keeping in mind the latter condition of my resolution and promptly forgetting my first one, I embarked on my adventure.

The only problem with today's route: the bloody, god-forsakenly chaotic Rothman's ROUNDABOUT.

Clashing with modern thoughts of sophisticated infrastructure and the civility of unambiguous architecture is the abominable, bastard-child of a roundabout.

Despite being spoiled by avant-garde quality highways and effective traffic control systems, 80% of the Malaysians who drive STILL have piss poor road manners. Keeping this in mind, I clung on to the steering wheel for dear life as I approached the roundabout. During lunch break too.

Ah, the traffic at the roundabout can only be described as a symphony of semi-coordinated confusion.

I swear to God and whatever else is holy and dear to you, driving in Malaysia requires telepathy to know who plans on going where without leaving a fat dent on every car that passes by.

Also, keep in mind it's been four long, blissful years since I had encountered a roundabout.

After fifteen seconds of watching traffic pass and a dully calculated risk of entering without incident before the dusty white Mercedes 240E could swing into my quarter, I had let go of all inhibitions and proceeded to enter the swirling mass of cars.

It was a living, moving, breathing piece of art. No car horns or nasty looks yet, I was proud of myself.

Now leaving this living, moving breathing piece of art was another problem.

I had to take the junction right opposite where I entered the roundabout. Naturally, this meant making way for the cars who wanted to exit sooner... which also meant that I was on the second inner lane... which ultimately meant that I had to switch lanes. In a roundabout.

I nearly made it out without even blinking (or breathing) but alas, at the final moments, when the satisfaction of a miniscule sense of achievement was just within grasp: a sleek and shiny, black Toyota RAV4 decided not to take the exit before mine (as I assumed he would since he was on the outer lane) and headed straight my way.

No, no. There was none of that frantic, intense and abrupt brake jamming that would've undoubtedly leave a hole where the pedal was supposed to be, loud cursing or nasty flip offs.

I had cruised to my exit despite the single short and crisp horn from the RAV4 who was forced to unwillingly albeit gracefully yield and slow down a teeny bit. At the sound of the horn, I had winced inside, silently apologized and went on my way seemingly cool and unfazed to the untrained eye.

There. My first roundabout experience in four years.

To my credit, the trip back was as smooth as a baby's bottom.

Beautifully executed with no mess and no fuss.

After one gentle horn, I had become a poser veteran roundabout goer.

Regardless of how proud I am to tackle my fear of the day and sticking to my resolution, giving it a memorably smashing initiation, I don't ever want to cross that roundabout EVER. Only unless they've paved it down and replaced the concrete block of circle with flashing lights; namely the red, yellow and green.

Until then, there will be alternatively longer routes to take but happier people on the road.

What else could a girl ask for?

Labels: madness