Aiyoh, you don’t know my Uncle Teck. This man, usually he is the most relak person in Toa Payoh. But last Saturday? Wah, his face black like char kway teow.
I saw him at the void deck, aggressively stabbing his kopi-O with a straw. I ask him, “Uncle, why so lan jiao face?”
He slam the table. “Siao liao! You see the ferry ticket or not? Last time go Batam is like peanuts price. Now? The price go up until can fly to Japan already!”
The Fuel & The Fury
Uncle Teck started opening his news app, pointing his trembling finger at the headlines. “All because of the war! The fuel price hike! I tell you, the ferry captain now is not driving boat, he is driving a gold-plated submarine is it? How to go like that?!”
To Uncle Teck, Batam is his “Secret Garden.” Every month, he tells my Auntie he is going for a “Religious Pilgrimage/Business Seminar.” In reality, we all know he is going there to:
- Eat affordable seafood until his uric acid scream for mercy.
- Massage until his old bones crack like prawn crackers.
- Karaoke with those “nieces” who tell him he looks like a young Andy Lau.
The “Nuclear Plan” Disrupted
“Boy, you don’t understand,” he whispered, looking around for Auntie. “I got a schedule one. It’s like your skin treatment plan—very systematic!
- Step 1: Reaching Batam Center, go for the cheap haircut.
- Step 2: Go Nagoya Hill for ‘special’ massage to ‘tether’ my back pain.
- Step 3: Night time go KTV for the ‘collagen dump’—meaning I buy many towers of beer for the girls.
But now? The ferry price increase so much, my budget all burst! If I go now, I only can afford the haircut and maybe one cup of Teh Botol. My ‘collagen dump’ become ‘wallet dump’!”
The Economic Tragedy
He started calculating on his fingers, getting more agitated. “Last time, $70 can return trip plus lunch. Now, the surcharge alone can buy two chickens from Giant! I tell the ferry counter girl, ‘Sister, I’m going to Batam to support your economy, why you suck my blood first?’ She just stare at me like I’m a sotong.”
He sighed, a broken man. His dreams of being a “Batam King” were sinking faster than a paper boat in a longkang.
“Now I stay Singapore, go Jurong East for massage. Not the same leh! The uncle there massage me until I want to cry. No ‘niece’ call me Andy Lau. Only the uncle call me ‘Uncle, your back very stiff, must add $20 for oil.'”