A dose of reality

I popped by Takashimaya today under the pretext of paying my library fine, the reality being I wanted to pay homage to the tomb of the tent. I was expecting a total dismantling of the tent, sort of like King Tut's tomb. You know, with a level plain above and bundled memories beneath the surface. But when I got there, the skeletal remains were still there. So I bought my Old Chang Kee currypuff to stimulate the last 10 days, sat down near where Julius vomited and watched the workers take the boards apart bit by bit. Each time the sledgehammer hit, a memory rammed home.

Julius and his too-small shirts.
Nurul and her Rocky saga.
Sal and his seal sounds.
Debra and her ranting.
Cindy and her skirts.
Iqbal and his sweets.
Sam and his shakes.
Erica and her "but we were meant to be!"
Michelle getting high.
Bryan hitting my eye.
Models and boobs.
Shahida's green green eyes.
VIP guests and tai tais.
Many bottles of water.

I tried scanning the workers, hoping I'd see someone I know, but I didn't.
I wished someone from the show would happen to make the pilgrimage, but no one did.
I sat there and analyzed each stepboard going, "That's where the office was", "The dressing room ended there", "Oooh, backstage!"
And all the time, the workers just continued on their work, oblivious to my soulsearching.

Sal was right, the office was home.

And now I feel sort of lost.
Like a routine has been ripped out of me, a routine that was much loved and appreciated.

I even walked to the toilet we always used and remembered Simran twirling her hair, the queues after every show and the hurried breaks during the shows.

And besides all the reminiscing, I even had time to reflect on other stuff.

This may turn out to be just a tiny, insignificant crush I'll forget in a couple of years, but thank you for shaking me out of my tepid and exceedingly dull fantasies.