Tinker, Tailor

I don’t usually do film reviews, but I have to do this one.

It’s a documentary film. *yawn*

It’s a documentary about a spelling bee (spelling competition). *YAWN!!!!*

You must be wondering what the heck is wrong with this tinkertailor guy. Yeah he’s weird, he’s got strange interests, maybe he’s been working too hard or sleeping too little, or has been deprived or been encountering too many interested guys or something… but why the heck is he blogging about a documentary on a bunch of kids trying to spell words that normal humans never heard of in their lives, let alone know how to spell?

Give me a chance - hear me out - I promise to keep it short.

Spellbound introduces us to 8 kids with different backgrounds from different parts of the US, all eventually competing in the 1999 National Spelling Bee in Washington DC. Only 249 out of almost 9 million kids make it to the nationals.

By the time we reach Washington, we’ve learnt to like at least some of these 8 kids.

Like this girl whose parents have been working hard at a cattle ranch since they emigrated from Mexico 20 years back. Her dad still doesn’t know English, but he decided to go up to Washington to support her anyway.

Or this cute boy who talks way too much but in a cute way. You watch him grimace and frown while trying to figure out how to spell “banns”. (I would never have guessed the spelling.)

The tensions during those moments were intense, excruciating even.

Like when this boy whose parents emigrated from India tried to spell “darjeeling”. He had been training for this competition hours everyday - on the computer, with his dad, with his spelling teacher (you’ll think Singaporeans are really not kiasu). And he’s never heard of “darjeeling” (his dad’s blood pressure was probably dangerously high then).

Or like when this girl was given a word she obviously never heard of. You watch her eyes widen in surprise and horror, then watch her fidget uncomfortably. Very uncomfortably for a very long time. In fact it looked like she was having stomach cramps, and she was on the verge of breaking down. It was painful.

Maybe I haven’t watched enough sports, but the tension and suspense of this film beats any sports game I’ve watched. Yes, kids trying to spell words can actually be more exhilarating than watching sports. And I love sports.

You don’t have to be crazy about words to enjoy this. You don’t even have to be a good speller.

Why are you still reading this? Go steal the dvd already!

I bumped into a friend quite by chance on the bus just now, but because there was a girl sitting between us, we couldn’t make proper conversation. But thankfully, she soon moved to another seat so that my friend could join me for a short but nice chat.

But that, of course, is beside the issue, but useful to give the background and setting of the incident.

I soon realised that the bus was already at my stop, and I was still stuck beside my friend, so I naturally had to make my way to the exit quite quickly. It didn’t help that my friend had gained a bit of weight since the last time (I told her she’s not THAT fat though).

As I soon found, the path toward the exit was filled with people, and the bus was ready to move off. In my haste, as I moved past a particular woman standing along the isle, I kicked her leg quite forcefully, rather unintentionally.

Kicking someone, you may quickly come to realise, is more akin to assault than to molest, even if that someone is a lady, to which I completely agree. So that, as well, is beside the issue, but it’s certainly relevant to the event that followed.

Some of you may have observe that some people, when they need to apologize to you for some wrongdoing, may also feel the need to place their hand on your arm or shoulder, probably to convey their sincerity, whether real or manufactured.

I suppose every now and then I fall under such a category of people, especially in that aforementioned bus incident, after I kicked the woman.

After kicking her leg, and in my haste to get out, and in my urgency to convey the sincerity of my sorriness, my hand instinctively placed itself on her. But instead of placing it on her shoulder or arm, it went on the shortest and most efficient route towards her. This meant that it landed, rather firmly I must say, on the region of the gluteus maximus.

Ok, I grabbed her ass.

* * *

What followed was a bit of a blur. I know I said a “sorry”, but I can’t remember if that was for kicking her leg or for grabbing her ass or both. It was probably meant for the kicking, but must have thought that it could be carried over to the grabbing part as well. Fortunately for me, she reacted to the kick but not to the grab. Or maybe I didn’t see the grab reaction because I was already fast on my way out and I didn’t even look at her face, although it looked like she was in her 20s. Perhaps it was good that I didn’t look at her, so that it would be harder for her to create a photofit for me. Not that I thought of that - I was simply in a hurry to get out.

And I did get out. And I’m still a free man. And still able to blog about it.

Our eyes met, and we both paused for a split second. Then he smiled and extended his hand, offering me his business card.

I took the card and shook his hand.

He had this slight sashay when he walked and my gaydar would have been blaring if I weren’t trying to figure out where and when I had seen him.

“Were you from…” then he named my school and the programme I was in. That was a long time back.

“Yeah…”

“I still remember you!”

“Okay… actually I don’t really remember you…”

We had to go for this meeting together, and when the meeting was over, I asked him,

“So how come you can remember me so clearly?”

“Oh that’s cos you were the cool guy. Still quite cool now leh…”

“Ermm I was cool then?”

“Yeah you were always that cool guy sitting alone…”

He thought for a moment, then continued,

“If I were a girl, I surely would have fallen in love with you already.”

“Erm… ok…”

I wonder what he was thinking.

Postscript

He also asked me to give him a call the next time I was in the area to have coffee and “catch up”. We were in the same lecture group, but never classmates - what’s there to catch up about? Besides, he’s not a financial planner or insurance agent…

Update

My friend tells me it could be a childhood crush thing. The more I think about it, the more I think she might be right. *SIGH*

I was browsing around in Borders as usual, when I ended up at the Philosophy section. A man in his 50s in a red polo T was seated on the carpet at the shelf area, making it difficult for others to pass through.

As I stood near him, I noticed him reaching for a book from the shelf behind him, then placing it against his back so he could lean on the book, as it was uncomfortable leaning directly on the shelf.

I didn’t like what I saw.

“Hey, what’ you trying to do?” I said to him.

He quickly pulled away the book, probably thinking that I was a Borders staff. Then when he looked up at me and realised that I wasn’t, he gave me his most sneering look.

“This has nothing to do with you!” he sniffed angrily.

“This is not about me. You shouldn’t be doing this. You shouldn’t even be sitting here.”

I towered menacingly over him. It helped that he had a small frame. I could have lifted him up just like that and pinned him against the self.

“This is none of your business! Get lost lah!”

I stepped back a little - my fear was that he might grab me down there. But I kept looking at him. Just looking at him, waiting for him to react.

“Get lost lah, you busybody! Go get the security if you dare!”

“Not a bad idea.”

So off I went, intending to drag a security guard along. Then I figured it would be much more fun to take his photo, since I haven’t been posting photos on this blog lately.

Too bad he was already gone.

Phone rings.

“Hello is this mister [my surname]?”

“Yep.”

“Hi, I’m calling from this yada yada blah blah financial planning yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah… Hello mister [my surname]?”

“Yes?”

“So when would you be free to meet this week?”

“Did I say that I would like to meet?”

“So when would you be free to meet? It’s yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah yada yada blah blah.”

“I didn’t say I would like to meet.”

“So would you be interested in our product?”

“No, I’m not interested.”

“Thank you sir for your time.”

Click.

I would have told her earlier if she gave me a chance to speak.