After a wary day at work, I boarded the usual bus 13 to head home for some rest, spotting the only completely empty seat on the bus, I made a bee-line for it and placed my firm butt on the seat closest to the window, following which, I lost myself in the wonders of buildings and vehicles passing me at a speed of 40km/h.
But all was not meant to be. Halfway through my journey, I spotted someone boarding the bus along with a group of random people and I had this strange gut feeling striaght away that I was going to be in trouble. I was keeping watch of him all the way, from the moment he tapped his EZ link to the point when he chose to place his butt on the empty seat next to me... Oh my god. I was within sneezing range of a fucking Bangalah! And a typical construction worker Bangalah at that! Dressed in the standard $10 pasa malam striped polo-T and woren-out pirated brand jeans.
And the smell... Oh my holy god. I couldn't even get a hint of my Hugo Boss perfume over his overwhelming "Natural Jasmine Tea Scent". I immediately turned away and stuck my nose as close to the window as possible in hopes of releaving myself of even the slightest bit of his smell. But as everyone will know, all that was in vain.
And that was only 1 bloody Bangalah. Imagine the power of an entire company of Bangalah workers boarding the bus together. I have decided, I'm never taking public transport during Deepavali. Yes, I'm racist, but on the other hand Bangalahism isn't really a race right? And they all look the same too.
Anyhow written on Nov 2, 2006 at 7:29 PM
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