As he made a left turn into the smaller road, he heard the Mercedes Benz horn at him from the back. Frustrated and annoyed, but can't be bothered, he shook his head in an act of disappointment and pointed at his helmet with his index finger, conveying to the driver behind him that he wasn't thinking. Unwilling to relent, the driver sounded his horn again at the cyclist in front of him before turning into Traders Hotel. This got him fuming, and he stopped his bicycle abruptly at the roadside and stomped to the car in an attempt to confront the asshole of a driver who sounded his horn at him, twice, for what might be a rushing tactic. As he started bellowing and pointing his middle-finger around, the Mercedes Benz left hastily as soon as it unloaded its passenger, without the driver giving a fuck at the seemingly mad man, and I walked into my office building, somewhat unamused by the sequence of events.
The drama episode this morning on my way to work really put me into perspective. What could annoy a person as much as for him to display contempt for a stranger in the morning? I could understand the cyclist's anger, and given myself in the same situation, might have flown into a rage as well. Have we grown too impatient to realise that in relativity we are in fact faster than everyone around us, and perhaps not everyone appreciates the haste? Have we been too haughty to think that driving an expensive car around instantly gives us the right to be rude and offensive, fueled by a self-projected sense of superiority?
I never felt like I was in a mad rush to reach anywhere, if it was appropriately scheduled. I know we have been taught to manage our time wisely, and to make sure that as little time as possible goes to waste is the quintessence of this virtue. But we all know why the MRTs are so packed at 8.30a.m. and 6.30p.m. everyday. We all know why being fashionably late has become a culture in most Singaporeans.
I fret we might be a generation of the impatient.
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