A fifty dollar cake for a thousand dollar smile

A fifty dollar cake for a thousand dollar smile
One of the perks of working at AMP Radio Networks is that you get two hot beverages delivered to your desk each day, prepared the way you choose to have it. The woman who makes this happen? Auntie Mallika. And she never gets your drink wrong.
Each day, Auntie Mallika prepares over a hundred cups of tea, coffee or milo. All you need to do is give her your personal mug from home and answer some basic questions she’ll ask you.
1. Would you like a drink in the morning or afternoon or both?
2. Would you like coffee, tea or milo? (You are allowed to pick a different drink for a different time of day)
3. Milk?
4. Level of sweetness.
Over the first few days of receiving your brew, Auntie Mallika will query you on it so she can make the necessary adjustments to get your beverage DNA right. The amazing thing about all this is that she doesn’t take notes. She just stores it all in her head.
There are some house rules. If you are not going to be in, you have to tell Auntie Mallika beforehand. She has the ability to remember multiple dates. So you could just tell her, I won’t be in Monday morning, Thursday afternoon and all of Friday, and she will remember it.
A sea of mugs. Hundreds of drink combinations. Changing schedules. How does she do it? She just does. One face at a time.
~.~.~.~.~
This morning, I had a real bad toothache and had to make a last minute trip to the dentist. I got told off quite badly by Auntie Malika when I got into work–for not informing ahead of time that I would not be in. Picture a large Italian grandmother doling out choice Italian while chasing you with a rolling pin… yeah, it was kinda like that. She even threatened to not make my afternoon drink.
I tried to keep my cheeky smile in, but some of it escaped as I pulled out a birthday cake from the box I was carrying. I got smacked in the arm. She could not believe that someone had remembered. A couple other people happened to be in the pantry at the time, and we sang her a song.
“So auntie… petang ni? Ada kopi?” (So aunty, this afternoon? Got coffee?)
“Ada, ada.”
You should have seen her smile. So glad I was, that on this day, I had remembered the lady who never forgets.

One of the perks of working at AMP Radio Networks is that you get two hot beverages delivered to your desk each day, prepared the way you choose to have it. The woman who makes this happen? Auntie Mallika. And she never gets your drink wrong.

Each day, Auntie Mallika prepares over a hundred cups of tea, coffee or milo. All you need to do is give her your personal mug from home and answer some basic questions she’ll ask you.

  1. Would you like a drink in the morning or afternoon or both?
  2. Would you like coffee, tea or milo? (You are allowed to pick a different drink for a different time of day)
  3. Milk?
  4. Level of sweetness.

Over the first few days of receiving your brew, Auntie Mallika will query you on it so she can make the necessary adjustments to get your beverage DNA right. The amazing thing about all this is that she doesn’t take notes. She just stores it all in her head.

There are some house rules. If you are not going to be in, you have to tell Auntie Mallika beforehand. She has the ability to remember multiple dates. So you could just tell her, I won’t be in Monday morning, Thursday afternoon and all of Friday, and she will remember it.

A sea of mugs. Hundreds of drink combinations. Changing schedules. How does she do it? She just does. One face at a time.

~.~.~.~.~

This morning, I had a real bad toothache and had to make a last minute trip to the dentist. I got told off quite badly by Auntie Malika when I got into work–for not informing ahead of time that I would not be in. Picture a large Italian grandmother doling out choice Italian while chasing you with a rolling pin… yeah, it was kinda like that. She even threatened to not make my afternoon drink.

I tried to keep my cheeky smile in, but some of it escaped as I pulled out a birthday cake from the box I was carrying. I got smacked in the arm. She could not believe that someone had remembered. A couple other people happened to be in the pantry at the time, and we sang her a song.

“So auntie… petang ni? Ada kopi?” (So auntie, this afternoon? Got coffee?)

“Ada, ada.”

You should have seen her smile. So glad I was, that on this day, I had remembered the lady who never forgets.

Happy Birthday Mr Pressiedent

I don’t care much for presents on my birthday, and my only requirement on 12.18 each year is that I be treated to a meal I enjoy, which Alhamdulillah, did materialise.

I received 2 gifts this year, both of which almost brought me to tears. The first was from Sophie, an iPod Nano, a replacement for my iPod which met its demise a month or so back. For those of you who don’t know me, I draw a tremendous amount of strength and comfort from music. Initially, I thought the break would do me some good, would allow me to find my own voice in the silence.  Find my own voice I did. It was cool at first, being able to hear myself think. But what I realised a little later was this. I just wouldn’t stop talking.

Incapable of just being blissfully lost in the silence, I’d been ‘clownily’ dragging my laptop everywhere with me… earphones attached. For me, the past month has been one big, oversized dildo in the ass.

The Nano, in my jurassic opinion anyway, is a technological marvel. Equipped with a touchscreen, and wafer thin, it warehouses 16GB of music or whatever else you may choose to throw into it.  ‘Sleek’… if I had to describe it in one word. Sophie chose the Hot Panty Red for me and inscribed this on the back, “What a Jem.”

nano

The second gift I received came in the form of a birthday card. From my Dad. He is the only person I know on this planet who still buys cards. The card reads:

Parents seldom realize
Until their son is grown
The many ways
He’s touched their hearts
Or how the time has flown

He learns so much
Too fast, it seems
You can’t believe the pace!
Then suddenly the boy is gone
And who’s this in his place?

A young man
Filled with more than dreams,
But hope and promise, too
Facing life on his own terms,
With visions to pursue

And though we always trusted
You’d be second-best to none,
We never knew how proud we’d be
To say, “There goes our son.”

Brian Murray’s birthday

The whole of last week was dedicated to keeping Su Ling as entertained as possible, a task both tiring and weirdly entertaining; tiring because I work in the day and all I want to do on weekends or when I get home is be brain dead on the couch; and weirdly entertaining because, eventhough I’ve done the LA tour like a zillion times, it’s interesting to see the reaction or non-reaction to LA by someone new to LA. I met up with Su Ling fairly recently when I back in Malaysia last summer but it was nice to see her again so soon. Plus I think a break in work life monotony did me some good.

Hui Chin and I headed for San Diego after dropping Su Ling off at the airport on Saturday. We reached at 2 in the afternoon and headed straight for the ever charming 976 coffee house in Pacific Beach for hot chocolate. Hui Chin and I got into a lengthy discussion about religion and it got dark in a blink of an eye. We dashed over to the Grossmont Mall to get Brian’s birthday present; 4 bags of Hershey’s Hugs & Kisses stuffed into 10 pairs of white socks. Pick Up Stix, a Nouvelle Chinese food place, served up a pleasant surprise. We had Chow Mein and the House Chicken.

Hui Chin and I made a late entrance at the Other Side where RCR was performing, and missed Brian’s birthday drum-off in the process. It was interesting how this one young girl was so taken with the band members and was trying her best to get noticed by Brian.

Oh, Ketty has a new nose ring. Nope, not a stud that goes onto the meat of your nose, but a double-balled hoop that is driven through the center divider that connects your nose with your upper lip. Kids these days. I never thought I’d find myself saying that.

We adjourned to the apartment after the Other Side. The whole gang was there. Dan looked bigger than the last time I saw him. Hui Chin was really exhausted so she retired to the back set of my cramped car after meeting the bunch. There were lots of goodies this year as compared to last year – Sayre’s sinful, semi gooey chocolate cake and Jen’s lemon crusted pie that just made your eyes pop open with a look that says it all.

Jen did not pour beer on my face this year.

Ketty danced around in Brian’s glittery G-string, a birthday gift from Victoria, who wasn’t too amused with the fact that someone else was wearing the present she had bought specifically for Brian. I didn’t see a reason for her disamusement given that Brian was probably never going to wear that piece of cloth, and that the gift’s worth was the shock value that it possessed.

The party was winding down when I met Gavin, a long-haired Filipino guy that works with Brian. He was okay to talk to at first but his mouth was like a train that had lost its brakes. Gavin was proud of the fact that he knew how to say “I love you” in 22 different languages and never hesitated to demonstrate his language skills, over and over and…

Hui Chin rejoined the party at 3 in the morning when it was just about time for bed. Mama Skanky laid out a nice cushy make-shift bed smack in the middle of the living room for us. Duracell mouth Gavin, Carlos and some drunk chick who were still in the apartment obliged us with a loud annoying argument on who would be able to stay up the longest. Brian moved us into the bedroom and it was lights out.

Iron Chef Justin and Iron Chef Brian had breakfast going at noon. Bacon, eggs and cinnamon pancakes as we watched Terminator 2 on DVD. The guys were planning to play football at 3:30. We had planned to pay Thom a visit in his new home but he was at the flower farm in Carlsbad. So we got on the 5 and the compass needle pointed North for the next two and a half hours.

5 times 5 is…

Happy Old Age to me. I’m a quarter of a century old.

World’s longest rollercoaster ride
Act 1: The Delay
I take my place at the end of the long TWA line at the airport. 50 minutes till departure. The 100 foot line was moving two footsteps every 10 minutes. The reason for the long line was that weather in the midwest was a little messy so a bunch of people had to reschedule their connecting flights. And kudos to TWA for assigning two whole ticketing agents to handle a fully booked plane.

Act 2: Surprise!
Surprisingly, flight 720 passengers were scuttled onto the plane in pretty good time, although one or two had to leach on to the front wheel and pull themselves up through the undercarriage as the airplane withdrew from the gate. The fasten seat belt sign was turned on, and we were shown the safety video. I still prefer it when the safety demonstration is performed by a real life person at the front of the plane. It would be really cool if airlines passed a law making it mandatory for all passengers to act out the safety demo as it is performed at the front of the plane… kinda like an aerobics class. On a flight of frequent fliers, the safety demo would be executed glitch-free like a Janet Jackson music video.

We were running 15 minutes late but the airplane eventually undocked and we progressed towards the runway for take off. There was excitement, joy, optimism, delight and relief on the faces of almost every passenger on the plane.

“Psshhhhhkkkkkk! This is a yer Captin speakin’. We’ve just received news from St Louis about its weather situation. We will not be taking off for about another hour.”

Crowd starts to mumble.

“I’ve just turned off the seat belt sign so feel free to wander up and down the aisles of our spacious aircraft in a single file line.”

“Psshhhhhkkkkkk! For those of you who choose to remain in your seats please do pick up our inflight magazine that is tucked in the pocket of the seat in front of you.”

Long pause.

“In this magazine, you will find layouts of major US airports that should help you get to your connecting gate as quickly as possible. We apologize for this delay. To make it up to you, as captain of this plane, I have ordered that passsengers of this flight be not required to purchase headphones to tap into our in-flight music. Instead we will be airing piano tunes of old Barry Manilow songs over our PA system for your listening pleasure.”

Ten minutes pass and passengers are growing restless and running around like chickens without their legs. Starting from the back row, people were lining up to slit their wrists in the the restroom.

Act 3: St Louis here we come!
At the end of the hour the PA crackles. “Psshhhkkk! This is your captain speaking.”

A lone voice erupts from someone in the center aisle, middle row. “Fuck you!”

“We’ve received confirmation from St Louis to take off. Please fasten your seat belts, and turn off all electronic equipment… including battery operated pleasure devices Amy.” Amy blushes. “Flight crew, be prepared for take off.”

Act 4: He said, she said
This is the coolest thing the air stewardess said to me on the flight as she was serving me lunch.

“Would you like the ham or the roast beef?”

“The roast beef please.”

“One ham sandwich coming up.”

“Never mind,” I thought to myself. “I’m so hungry I could eat my arm.”

And then this is what she says to me, “These sandwiches have been sitting here so long don’t be surprised if the meat is green.”

I mean, come on. I’m not the biggest flying fan and my stomach gets a little queasy on airplanes. The last thing I need is to have someone tell me that my meat looks like my vegetables.

Act 5: Touch down
Three and a half hours later, St Louis is at our feet. The plane lands, the aircraft door opens, and everyone darts out like a handful of marbles bowled onto the lane of a bowling alley. I check the departure monitor and my connecting flight to Lincoln is set to take off as scheduled, in 2 hours. I stroll over to the food court for an over priced 2 item Panda Express combo.

Act 6: And the crowd was silent
After my meal, which by the way happened to be pretty good, I stepped out of the food court into an airport atmosphere that resembled the NY Stock Exchange floor. I glanced up at the Arrival and Departure monitors and saw on almost all flights coming into and departing from St Louis: CANCELED, CANCELED, CANCELED, CANCELED, CANCELED . I panicked like a gay guy that just got a paper cut. I stared at the screen a while longer, trying my hardest to harness enough supernatural power to change my flight status with my glare. A couple minutes passed and I had to deal with the fact that I had to step into that monster line that was forming two gates away at the service counter.

It was an hour and a half later before I got to speak with William Beacham, one of the cooler TWA agents. All the flights to Lincoln were fully booked until 3 pm the next day. Willy booked me on a 10 am flight to Omaha instead and told me I need not get in line again if I changed my mind. I gave Hui Chin a ring to find out the exact time of her graduation. It started at 9 am and Omaha was an hour away.

Act 7: Disappointment
Upon finding out that I would be missing Hui Chin’s graduation regardless, I decided to change my flight and fly direct to Lincoln. In the 10 minutes I took to call Hui Chin, the 3 pm Lincoln flight got fully booked and the next available was at 6 pm. Willy booked me on that flight. I took a walk and reflected on the fucked-upness of having to stay overnight in St Louis.

Cab to nearby hotel: $15

1 night stay at hotel with stained sheets: $66

Cab from hotel to airport by cab driver that detects my Malaysian accent and decides to take the long route: $25

Ointment to treat strap burn after carrying my luggage all of the next day until I catch my next flight to Lincoln at 6 pm… and that’s if the flight doesn’t get canceled: $3.50

Spending the night in your own warm bed without running the risk of catching someone else’s skin disease: Priceless.

There are some things money can’t buy. For everything else there is Mastercard.

Act 8: Enlightenment
“Yo Willy!,” I yelled out to my favorite TWA agent.

“Oh, you again.”

“When’s the next flight to LA?”

“Let me check.” Tap, tap, tap on the keyboard. “Ummm, there’s one leaving right now.”

With two hands, I yanked him towards my face by his shirt collar. “Get me on that plane… Nowwww!”

“This plane boarded 5 minutes ago. You’ll have to run to the gate as though you had the Village People behind you.” He handed me my boarding pass.

“Thanks Willy. You the man.”

Act 9: The scramble to the gate
They were withdrawing the bridge from the aircraft as I ran towards gate 35. With everything in my wake exploding in Indiana Jones style, I doubled my momentum and lunged some 40 feet to barely land within the confines of the aircraft.

Okay, okay. Here’s the real story. I ran to the gate as fast as I could, having to stop several times along the way to rejuvenate my old muscles. They let me into the plane without a hitch. There was a delay in take off time because they were waiting to unload passengers from another plane onto this one.

Act 10: “Hey, it’s you again!”
32B. That was my seat number. I walked down the aisle until I found my seat. It was by the exit door. Exit door seats are the coolest because you’ve got a ton of leg room to stretch out and air your crotch. To add to that, the seat on my right and left were vacant.

The lights were dim. Hula music was playing over the PA system as I drifted off to a light sleep, seated in my roomy 32B seat like a turtle on its back or a willing virgin with the words “Take Me” written all over her face. And then I got an elbow shoved into my rib as one of the passengers from a connecting flight boarded the plane and took his seat beside me. I opened my eyes and saw that the entire aisle was filled with people clicking open and scrounging the overheads for room to rest their bags. Beside me in 32C was a burly white guy from Seattle. An Asian girl later took the other vacant seat on my left, so in the span of 5 minutes I was demoted from the King of Siam to a piece of meat on a kebab.

The flight took off 30 minutes late. 30 minutes feels like 1 nanosecond once you’ve been subjected to a whole day of TWA time.

Act 11: Three and a half hours later
LA looked magnificent from the air, and as the plane descended, you got the illusion that you’ve just been abducted by aliens and that they were taking you back to their home planet. And as you get a little closer you see thrash on the sidewalk and know you’re still on planet Earth.

The landing was smooth, and compared to the LA to St L flight, the passengers were a wee bit more civil to each other when retrieving their luggage. I shuffled to the front door in disbelief that I was back in LA.

The flight attendant cheerily greeted me as I was disembarking the plane, “We hope you enjoyed your flight. Do fly with us again.”

“Hell yeah! I enjoyed the flight so much, I flew to St Louis, got in a 2 hour line and flew back. Just like they do at Disneyland.”