Eh, bro, let me tell you one real story. Last weekend, I was super bored, single and available, right? So I decided to do what many Singaporean guys do: drive across the Causeway into JB for a “short getaway.” My original plan was just to relax a bit, maybe get a massage. Then I remembered one of my friends mentioned this legendary “magic spa” near the city center—the kind with special services, if you know what I mean. Basically, chicken in the spa lah.
So I turned on Waze, drove in, and navigated my way there.
Bro, the moment I turned into the shoplot carpark, I almost choked on my own saliva. I swear to you, 100% no exaggeration, the carpark was literally a mini Singapore Motorshow. Everywhere I looked—S-plate, S-plate, S-plate! Honda Vezel, Toyota Altis, Mercedes, even one auntie-style Nissan Serena. I thought I accidentally drove back to Tampines Hub multi-storey carpark or what! Out of 30 cars, at least 25 were Singapore registered. I was standing there laughing to myself, like wah, our Singaporean patriotism really very strong, even go spa must support in full force.
When I walked inside the spa, the real joke started.
The waiting lounge was PACKED. Inside got at least two dozen men, all sitting around waiting for their turn or waiting for the “lineup.” And guess what? Virtually ALL of them were Singaporean! You can just tell by the outfit—dri-fit Uniqlo shirt, Bermudas, slippers, and that distinct, stressed-out Singaporean facial expression, English speaking uncles.
The best part was listening to them talk. Most of the uncles there were easily late 40s, 50s, some even looking like pioneer generation with white hair already. One uncle in a blue polo tee was holding his phone with maximum screen brightness, nervously refreshing WhatsApp every two seconds. He turned to the guy next to him and said in super loud Singlish, “Eh bro, must ask the receptionist speed up a bit leh! I tell my wife I coming JB to buy Rotiboy and do car wash only. If I late go home, later she suspect then die!”
The other guy, also around 50-plus, replied, “Ya lah, my one even worse! She tracked my location, so I off my phone and say no battery forgot charge. Must finish fast fast and on my phone!”
I was sitting in the corner trying so hard not to laugh out loud until my stomach hurt. All these high-level ninja tactics, all just for one quick session! Here I am, single and clear-minded with zero guilt, while all these uncle legends are playing Mission: Impossible just to escape their wives for two hours.
In the end, JB is not just for cheap petrol, SG50 grocery shopping, or Rotiboy. It’s actually a sanctuary for Singaporean uncles undergoing middle-age crisis. Next time if your friend say he going JB “car wash and buy groceries,” don’t be naive already bro!