"Hello?"
"James, you free tomorrow morning?"
"Yea... Why?"
"Tomorrow you're gonna come with us for the march back to the new BP campus!"
"I am?"
"Yeah! It'll be like before, meeting in the morning... taking the bus... Then we can tour the new campus."
(Thinking of having to wake up at 6.30am...)
"Sigh.. Alright then. Meet you at the bus station. What bus did we use to take again?"
*
So at 6.30 am, my annoyingly accurate cellphone alarm began playing 'Don't Love You No More', and I reluctantly allowed Craig's voice to pull me out of unconsciousness. It had been almost 2 months since I last woke up so early, and more than 2 years since I woke up this early with BP as my destination. I dressed and ate slowly, giving my blurry head some time to clear up before I tried to leave the house. I could get myself killed if I tried to cross any roads in this state.
Damian was already at the bus station by the time I reached. If it had been 2 years ago, we would already be panicking and rushing about trying to decide if we should abandon the bus queue and try to look for a taxi. But since we were returning as the all important and precious alumni, we didn't have a care in the world about time as we took our time getting to the boarding berth and onto the bus to our favorite seats.
The bus ride was much longer than I had grown accustomed to. The five minute rides that I took to school now seemed so much (and was in fact very) short as compared to the 25 minute ride. As per usual, one of us would supply the music (through a player, not through singing), and we would sit in the freezing bus listening to the songs.
The walk to the school from the bus stop was exactlly how I remembered it, though, again, if it was 2 years ago, we would be running to school instead of strolling to it, as the morning bell (a spastic version of 'Somewhere Over The Rainbow'') chimes merrily, as if mocking us with its false cheer.
The students (oh bless their little colorful selfs!) were all sitted in the assembly ground by the time all the alumni (there were probably more alumni than there were teachers) got there. The principal was talking about how the march was a tradition, but I wondered if it was the right word to use, since we had never marched back before. Nevertheless, the little students lapped it all up and drank in all their lies about how the alumni took time off studying (yeah right) to come visit them and support them. All we wanted to do was see what the school built, using the money we raised.
And so the march began, and the students set off. We all felt strangely nostalgic to that rundown jungle of a school as we see the students walk right out of it. We contemplated stopping them and making them all come back. They thought I was joking.
The alumni were the last to set off. It was after we set off did we see what a pathetic march it really was. Everyone was constricted to the small sidewalks, and the crossing of roads made progress so slow. A disabled, paralyzed old man could have challenged us to a race, and he would have won.
Two minutes after setting off, we began plotting our escape. The craving for bubble-tea was getting to our heads, and so we abandoned the march at the first traffic light and took off. After getting out delicious apple-green teas with the nice and chewy black tapioca balls, we hopped on a bus that took us all the way to Lot 1. Seeing how we were already cheating, we decided to cheat some more and took another bus that took us all the way to the school.
We were on the bus when we saw the first glance of the new building. The admin building was expanded, and it looked just like in the poster (before the colors faded) they hung at the holding site. Since we were so much faster than those slow poke alumni, we had to wait 'till they were right in front of the school before we cut in and pretended to be walking all along.
It was an unbelievable experience, stepping back into the school that was both familiar, yet foreign. The lobby was crowded with people, and we managed to find Joanne, who cheated even more than us (she went straight to the new school). We tried to move in, but the chinese HOD, as vibrant as I recalled, stopped us and told us that alumni had to wait there. We eventually got sick of standing there with all those other people, and they probably forgot about us, so we wandered off. Finally, I got to see what we had sacrificed so much for. The buildings were refurbished, and everything was brand new. The canteen had been relocated, and there was now a sports hall in its place. Everything was just so new, yet underneath it, we could still see traces of the school we had spent three years in.
As Damian said, it seems that we have come full-circle. Starting off at this campus, then moving away to the holding site, then coming back here again when it was all new and beautiful. I just wished that we could experience life here as a student, even if for just one day.
Damian was already at the bus station by the time I reached. If it had been 2 years ago, we would already be panicking and rushing about trying to decide if we should abandon the bus queue and try to look for a taxi. But since we were returning as the all important and precious alumni, we didn't have a care in the world about time as we took our time getting to the boarding berth and onto the bus to our favorite seats.
The bus ride was much longer than I had grown accustomed to. The five minute rides that I took to school now seemed so much (and was in fact very) short as compared to the 25 minute ride. As per usual, one of us would supply the music (through a player, not through singing), and we would sit in the freezing bus listening to the songs.
The walk to the school from the bus stop was exactlly how I remembered it, though, again, if it was 2 years ago, we would be running to school instead of strolling to it, as the morning bell (a spastic version of 'Somewhere Over The Rainbow'') chimes merrily, as if mocking us with its false cheer.
The students (oh bless their little colorful selfs!) were all sitted in the assembly ground by the time all the alumni (there were probably more alumni than there were teachers) got there. The principal was talking about how the march was a tradition, but I wondered if it was the right word to use, since we had never marched back before. Nevertheless, the little students lapped it all up and drank in all their lies about how the alumni took time off studying (yeah right) to come visit them and support them. All we wanted to do was see what the school built, using the money we raised.
And so the march began, and the students set off. We all felt strangely nostalgic to that rundown jungle of a school as we see the students walk right out of it. We contemplated stopping them and making them all come back. They thought I was joking.
The alumni were the last to set off. It was after we set off did we see what a pathetic march it really was. Everyone was constricted to the small sidewalks, and the crossing of roads made progress so slow. A disabled, paralyzed old man could have challenged us to a race, and he would have won.
Two minutes after setting off, we began plotting our escape. The craving for bubble-tea was getting to our heads, and so we abandoned the march at the first traffic light and took off. After getting out delicious apple-green teas with the nice and chewy black tapioca balls, we hopped on a bus that took us all the way to Lot 1. Seeing how we were already cheating, we decided to cheat some more and took another bus that took us all the way to the school.
We were on the bus when we saw the first glance of the new building. The admin building was expanded, and it looked just like in the poster (before the colors faded) they hung at the holding site. Since we were so much faster than those slow poke alumni, we had to wait 'till they were right in front of the school before we cut in and pretended to be walking all along.
It was an unbelievable experience, stepping back into the school that was both familiar, yet foreign. The lobby was crowded with people, and we managed to find Joanne, who cheated even more than us (she went straight to the new school). We tried to move in, but the chinese HOD, as vibrant as I recalled, stopped us and told us that alumni had to wait there. We eventually got sick of standing there with all those other people, and they probably forgot about us, so we wandered off. Finally, I got to see what we had sacrificed so much for. The buildings were refurbished, and everything was brand new. The canteen had been relocated, and there was now a sports hall in its place. Everything was just so new, yet underneath it, we could still see traces of the school we had spent three years in.
As Damian said, it seems that we have come full-circle. Starting off at this campus, then moving away to the holding site, then coming back here again when it was all new and beautiful. I just wished that we could experience life here as a student, even if for just one day.
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