Here’s an excerpt from a letter that showed up on the 2nd April’s edition of Today Online. Quite an issue that strikes a chord in many Singaporeans:
Where’s the space? Don’t convert motorists; solve train crush first (picture here from the article)
Letter from BRYAN ONG PANG CHAI
… As a daily public transport user, I cringe at the thought of more commuters joining the already large hordes of people who descend on our train and bus stations every morning.
I would like to stress to the Land Transport Authority (LTA) that despite compelling the train operators to increase the service frequency to three minutes, overcrowding in the carriages has not eased. Despite the SMRT’s constant “train load argument” that the number of people per square metre on our trains is far less than in Hong Kong or Madrid, this dismal state of affairs — in which commuters are packed like cattle into train carriages — is particularly bad at stations located in the middle of train lines.
Neither of us take trains much anymore these days. Actually, scratch that; Ling has never needed to take trains to work, while on my end, I was one such cattle every day during the seven years when my office was along Shenton Way.
There’s one incident though that (sort of) is fun to relate, as I did just a fortnight ago to some friends. This was in 1999 I think where I took the morning South-bound train from Yio Chu Kang station to Tanjong Pagar with a change at Raffles Place. The morning trains were usually packed with office workers, typically well-dressed and groomed etc., and most alighted at my stop. It’s standing room only when one gets onto the train.
So on this one morning, I was hanging onto a strap minding my own business and reading my copy of Newsweek when a well-dressed lady got onto the train and stood directly facing me. Now, the train was especially packed that morning, so our toes were practically touching. Yikes. Singaporeans love personal space, and I’m no different. Not only that, I remember that this lady was, er, but well-endowed (I’m sure you don’t need me to explain the context of this word!). So, for the next 15 minutes, I did not know where to leave my hands. i.e.
- Hold onto the strap and risk knocking my elbow into her head?
- Continue reading Newsweek and risk getting a tight slap if the back of my hand accidentally touches her blouse?
- Leave my hands at the side and wobble unsteadily when the train speeds?
There wasn’t really any choice, because she was standing so close that there was no space for me to read continue reading my magazine. Heck, I actually had to hold my breadth for fear that a train jolt would send her crashing into me, chest front (or worse, me into her!!). As comical as it sounds in writing this now, I was taking big gulps of air and holding my breadth to maintain ‘maximum distance’.
Funniest of all, the lady seemed quite nonchalant about the discomfort her proximity was giving me. In fact, maybe she was quietly enjoying seeing me squirm. I was soooo tempted to ask her “Er miss, I can’t breathe here – mind giving us a bit of space?”
But being the kiasi person I am, I didn’t, so there I was turning blue from holding my breadth until we finally both alighted at Raffles Place where I could finally take huge gulps of air to prevent any more brain damage from oxygen deprivation. Oxygen had never tasted so good before.:)
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