Flat Out

National Day, past midnight, and I'm still working. This is the first year I've scrambled around in the crowds while not being one of them, trying to get close enough to the action without being jabbed in rib and eye. Interviewing people about each tiny nuance of the parade doth a crabby journalist make. Is the sun too hot? Are you scared it will rain? Do you like your seat? Now that it's actually raining, are you kicking yourself for not bringing an umbrella?

Since you have an umbrella, how long are you going to continue holding it up in everyone's face so that our already limited view of the Black Knights soaring around in the sky is further obstructed, hmm, you self-centered, over-prepared bastard?

Well, you know me, I say I hated being out there, but believe you me, when the aerial displays were roaring above our heads and the flag thundered past under the giant belly of a chinook in a glorious stream of colour, I was screaming myself hoarse with the rest of them. Work or play, I'll always have a soft spot for this country.

Xenu bless Singapore.