The Crazy Lady in the Taxi Line

I lost it in public today.  Really, really lost it.  I was *that* woman. 

It all started when I arrived at my physical therapy appointment two hours early.  It was supposed to be at 1pm, I showed up at 11am.  Mistakes like this are in no way abnormal for me, so I laughed it off and decided to run some errands.  After finally getting around to canceling my yoga contract (boo!) and browsing the bookstore (a new Thai cookbook - yes!), I made my way to the Mount Elizabeth Medical Center to visit one of my best friends in the world, my orthopedic surgeon Dr. Raj.  I am pretty sure he spends more time with me than his kids.

So after 30 minutes with Dr. Raj, I was reeling from a BIG ASS injection in my knee, and having to hold a conversation that included the words "quality of life" and "possible knee replacement".  Oddly enough, I was able to hold back the tears (a nice change of pace for my dear doctor) but was not in the best mental state when I limped out of his office. 

Although I usually take the bus home when I can, I thoroughly deserved a cab ride home today (Dr. Raj made me cancel my PT appointment).  I was pleasantly surprised to see no one in the taxi line outside of the main entrance and hobbled to get in the (non)queue first. 

What happened next unglued me.  It felt like an out-of-body experience. 

Three groups of people exited the hospital behind me, and instead of playing by the rules and getting behind me in the OFFICIAL line, just moseyed right up to the cabs to wait while the exiting customers paid.  I couldn't stop the first two, but when the third group (a family of three, all adults) literally stood right next to me outside of the roped-off queue and started approaching the cab pulling up in front of me, I went berserk.

BATS#%T CRAZY.

If you were there you would have observed a crazy-eyed, middle-aged lady in workout clothes YELLING somewhat incoherently, arms flailing and of course, limping slightly.  I believe I said (screamed) things like, "I can't take you rude people another minute", "Don't they teach you manners in your country?" (they were not Singaporean) and a few other good ones that I either can't remember or I subconsciously don't want to.  Oh yeah, at least two times I LOUDLY demanded to know, "What is wrong with you people???"  In my attempt to get out of there as soon as possible, I practically tripped over my bag of books, somehow flung open the taxi door, hit it on my leg and slammed it shut as hard as I could.

FOR THE RECORD, I AT LEAST ABSTAINED FROM FOUL LANGUAGE.

And then I had a wonderful cab driver, who talked it out with me and agreed that this is all too common, for foreigners and locals alike.  He truly sympathized with me and we had a nice chat. 

Do not take this post as Singapore-bashing.  For those who know me, you know that is the last thing I would do, and it irks me to no end when I hear other people doing it.  I would take a lie detector test to prove that I have never had a day in two years that I didn't want to live here.  And I'm dreading leaving in 37 days.

Okay, writing this has raised my blood pressure again.  Time to go youTube the puppy bowl or something.  I guess I should just be hoping my meltdown doesn't end up on youTube.

Until next time...