The Night We Eloped

Sometimes, you can be so stupid as to tempt the universe. As I lazily woke up on Friday, I thought, my life had been very quiet as of late. And then as I got ready, I thought to myself, ‘Gee, life has been very quiet lately. If only it were a bit more exciting.’

The Universe heard me and declared, ‘Challenge accepted’.

Which explains why, on Friday night, in the heart of Kuala Lumpur, the husband and I were stuck by the side of the highway, me in our pretty baju kurung and Eizwan in his baju Melayu complete with his sampin, waiting for Eizwan’s cousin to rescue us. The rain was getting heavier, and I was trying very hard not to feel low.

‘This is my fault, you know,’ I say to Eizwan. ‘I tempted the universe.’

‘You did what?’

‘I said my life was unnaturally quiet the past two weeks. The universe responded.’

‘You what? No-lah! These things happen. It’s not your fault.’

I pause, and thought about what he said.

‘You’re right, I said to Eizwan. It’s your cousin’s fault.’

‘Syeda? Syeda’s fault?’

‘Yes, the last time she got engaged, we got locked out of our house. Twice. Now, on the day she’s getting married, our car broke down in the middle of the highway, and we’re standing here with no way out.’

‘Hey, that’s not true. I mean, this is just a coincidence right?’

‘Maybe.’

‘…Or maybe she secretly does not like me very much. Maybe I’ve wronged her somehow and this is punishment.’ Eizwan replied miserably.

‘You know what this means, right? This means that the next time a major event happens in her life, like if she has her first baby or something we’re staying far, far away.’

***

Our car died the way the universe would, not with a bang but with a whimper. Well, actually, it died in a spectacularly creepy way – the lights started to flicker, the radio came on and off before it all started to dim down and faded away. Despite Eizwan’s insistence that he could coax the car forward and that we CAN get to the wedding on time, 100 metres before the toll on the AKLEH, it quietly said good night.

We handled the situation fairly well, you know, like motherfucking adults. We called the insurance company which then called up the tow truck company. And then we called Eizwan’s parents to come rescue us. The tow truck came after half an hour, and the super nice tow truck driver gave us a lift to the waiting area on the other side of the toll where it would be safer to wait. Eizwan’s parents said that his cousin was on the way, and that he would get there in about 20 minutes.

Of course, as everyone knows, the best-laid plans are always obstructed certain Mr. Murphy. We might be only 20 minutes away from Syeda’s home, but Eizwan’s cousin decided to play it safe and take a route that he was familiar with to where we were. Unfortunately for both him and us, that route was Jalan Ampang. On a Friday night.

He was joined by about a million other people on that 1km stretch.

But despite Eizwan and I being stranded by the roadside, Eizwan and I were in surprisingly good mood. I was determined not to feel low, a car breaking down was already stressful for Eizwan – no one wants to spend any more money on a car, and we were bound to miss Eizwan’s cousin’s solemnization – so I did not want to upset him any further.

We kept ourselves amused by identifying cars, talking about everything and nothing and taking random pictures with the camera.

‘I don’t get why people are staring at us,’ Eizwan said. ‘You see that guy there? And that other guy there? They’re all staring at us.’

‘Maybe they’re not used to someone as hot as me being stranded,’ I said, flicking my hair to the back.

‘Modest…. Hey, stop staring at my wife!’ Eizwan shouted.

I shrug. I really did not care if people were staring. But it really bothered Eizwan that everyone was staring. And it was kind of funny that they were. We were not the only ones stranded by the side of the road – but the ones gathering the most attention was us.

‘I suppose it’s because we’re dressed the way we are. You know, we look nice, we look like we’re going to a dinner or something.’

‘Yeah, I suppose.’

But after a while, even I could not keep my spirits high. I was starting to get hungry, the fumes from the cars whizzing by were horrible and my throat was starting to dry out. Eizwan noticed my shivering. It was getting cold from the rain and he pulled me closer. He pulled out my t-shirt from the rucksack that he was holding. And I covered myself in efforts to cover myself from the rain.

People finally stopped staring. I think they were starting to think we’re kinda creepy.

Eizwan and I finally got to the wedding 3 hours after the wedding was supposed to start. By the time we were picked up,  Syeda and her boy, were now man and wife.

Of course, nothing was more comforting than arriving at a wedding 3 hours late, looking like the cat dragged in than your relatives cracking up at you the moment you walk in. And Eizwan finally got his answer as to why people kept staring at the two of us.

‘Oh my God. Did you really stand by the roadside dressed up like that?’ Abang Khalid sputtered in between giggles.

Apparently, as Eizwan’s cousin pointed out, the two of us, in our themed baju kurung and baju Melayu, me in my pretty make up, Eizwan with his rucksack on his back and standing by the side of the road looked like we were about to run away and elope.

Sigh.

The KL Curse

If I leave here tomorrow, would you still remember me?

So about two weeks ago, a friend asked me out to dinner at a restaurant I was not familiar with.

If you know me well, you would know that new places and Adlina driving are generally two non-mixy things. I may wash my own car, will attempt at assembling my own furniture, drilling and other manly things – but when it comes to driving and getting lost, I’m a stereotypical woman.

I am so good at getting lost, my record for getting so spectacularly lost was on the way from KL, I ended up in Puchong, headed towards Cyberjaya.

My family has a nickname for my disability – they call it the KL curse i.e. if Adlina is in the car when we’re driving to KL, rest assured even if you LIVE in KL, you’re bound to get lost when I’m in the car with you.

I refused to give in to this curse of mine when my friend asked me to dinner. Though she offered to pick me up, the husband offered to come back all the way to KL and then send me to dinner – I was adamant. I spent a good one hour before leaving memorizing the way there – I studied Google Map, wrote down the instructions in my trusty notebook before heading off. My friend kept calling me to make sure – seriously, I’m that notorious. Like getting lost from Mont Kiara to One Utama notorious.

But surprisingly, I DID NOT GET LOST. WAHEY! I may have driven like a turtle, annoyed all the cars behind me but I arrived on time! Said friend was well impressed.

Dinner was good, the company as always was lovely. After a long conversation, we hugged each other goodbye.

Of course, so gung-ho was I on studying the path to get there, I did not actually find a path to get my way home. Was I nervous? Yeah, sure I was, but come on. If I could get there, surely I could get back.

At the first wrong turn, I did what most idiots do when they get lost. Panic. And keep driving. Keep driving straight until I reach somewhere familiar. Hopefully. And of course, as all idiots do, I won’t stop to ask for directions. That’s the manly part of me. Asking for directions are for sissies.

The first 10 minutes was okay. I was blasting Free Bird by Lynyrd Skynyrd on repeat and feeling quite a lot like a reckless renegade, driving free and easy. The next 20 minutes however, I was getting rather grumpy. And edgy. Did not help that the tank was empty and the light was flashing. And I wanted to be home with the husband and even poor Lynyrd Skynyrd’s voice was starting to annoy me. I could change music but the only music I had in my car was a mix from 2005 and seriously, what on earth was I thinking back then, listening to “Because of You” by NeYo. I should be ashamed of myself.

It was in the midst of potentially stalling my car in a dark creepy alley in the middle of the night in an area I was not familiar with, I decided to do some things that was unlike myself. I stopped to fill up my car, as opposed to hoping I could find my way home with a minute amount of gas (I hate filling up at non-familiar stations) and secondly…I asked for directions.

The dude at the station looked at me with surprise. ‘Long way from home!’ he said.

‘Well, yeah. Not used to this place,’ was my miserable answer.

He gave the directions and then offered to fill up the tank for me. He also insisted that I fill up the competition form to win RM 30,000 (my friends in Shell, I’m still waiting for your ahem, inside help here).

‘Mana tau? Boleh menang! Banyak duit!’ he said to me. (Who knows? You might win! Lots of money)

I’ve given up on these competitions because, heck I never win anything. But I thought so far tonight, I’ve done some things that are unlike me. Firstly, I studied google map like I was studying for an IB exam. And I did not get lost to the restaurant. Secondly, I asked for directions. Who knows? Perhaps this new change in attitude would lead to me miraculously winning RM 30k. I filled up the form gladly and almost, smugly.

I left the petrol station, feeling rejuvenated. My spirits were soaring and I thought. Yeah. That is what has been wrong with me. My attitude. Eizwan was right. Unlike the rest of my family, he never believed in the KL curse. He always believed that it was in my mind – that things can always change, that things can get better, if only I wasn’t so insecure of myself.

So true, I thought as I drove down the road. With newfound confidence, I found my way through a series of complicated roads back onto the Federal Highway. I put on Free Bird at very high volumes that my car shook. I Looked like a teen on crack. But it doesn’t matter. Because I am Free Bird. Won’t you fly high free bird, yeeaaaaah!

…

But of course, in true Adlina fashion, I took the wrong turn as I was getting onto the Federal Highway and got lost again….

Lord help me, I can’t chaaaaange.

Looking for a Patron

A few weeks ago, one of my dear sponsors called and asked me for a wish list on what I would like and they’d get back to us. But of course, since then, they’ve disappeared of the face of the planet and our kooky production team of five has been struggling blindly in the dark and surprisingly, hey, we haven’t fallen into a river yet and drowned. So there is some hope for all of us yet!

There are though, moments of darkness that passes through my soul occassionally and this morning I got up, feeling wistful and a little sad about some of the things that we’ve had to do. We’ve done plays in the UK and I think in terms of difficulty, I think Malaysia ranks as one of the most difficult for independent productions.

MORE DIFFICULT THAN INDIA.

Ahem.

Anyway, so this morning, I was sitting down and watching Sabrina, the one with Humphrey Bogart and Audrey Hepburn (yes, ENVY ME PEOPLE, I AM AN ENTREPRENEUR WITH MY OWN TIME AND I BOW TO NO OFFICE TIME, MUAHAHAHAHAHA…ahem) and I was thinking, how incredibly, incredibly wonderful if I had a Linus Larabee who could easily lend his name to our production to make it more “credible”. Ah, well. Shame on me for not kissing ass, sucking up, make nice to all the big-wigs in the country earlier. Do I sound bitter? No, no, not at all. Not bitter at all.

I suppose if you could look at it from differing points of view, I am inevitably, arrogant and full of pride. I’m like Darcy from Pride and Prejudice…save for the wealth and not being a man and not bearing any resemblance to Colin Firth at all. I should have been able to consort (or at least scrabbled my way and tried) with the upper echelons of society and therefore making it very easy on me to be “known”.

On the other hand, considering that I did not choose my parents very well, and that they are merely hardworking yet very unknown business people, I’m still back to square one. I’ve nothing to offer them and therefore, they have nothing to offer me. Actually, now that I put that way, my greatest error is dating Eizwan who is also from a family of hardworking yet very unknown business people. See, I can’t choose my parents but I can choose who I choose to date. Damn me for falling in love with a good yet unknown person.

So this morning, I started day-dreaming about the various people in Malaysia and otherwise that I admire ridiculously who I think I’d collapse from joy if they decide to “endorse” me. So on with the list:

1. David Tennant

Because he’s Doctor Who. If Doctor Who endorses me, I don’t care if the play doesn’t do well. Because dammit, I’ve been endorsed by the Doctor himself. I consider myself having been made.

2. Russell T Davies

I stopped writing creatively for ages until I started watching Doctor Who. And suddenly, it came back and I really have to say, it’s all due to this man. I admire Russell T Davies greatly. For those of you who aren’t familiar with his writing, he is the executive producer of Doctor Who and he wrote the critically acclaimed series: Queer as Folk.

3. Ashley Pharoah and Matthew Graham

Because I think these two come as a pair. Or at least I hope they do because they’re incredible together. Ashley Pharoah graduated from the school that I can only dare to dream about: NFTS. The two of them created and wrote Life on Mars and my current favourite: Ashes to Ashes, worked with the team at Kudos who created Spooks and Hustle.

Alexander McCall Smith

For writing the Number One Ladies’ Detective series.

Looking through my list, it looks awfully pretentious. It isn’t really. They’re all British. Unless liking British thing is all pretentious. And they’re all TV related. Would it be a horrible thing now to confess that I don’t really read that many plays? Yes, it would be. I’ll shut up now.

Ah well.

Anyway, I’m still looking for a patron. So, if you’re a great writer (playwright is a terrible bonus, actually writing skills isn’t that necesarry), terribly good looking (because I am terribly shallow) or you’re just famous for no apparent reason (this like Keanu Reeves, heck, if you’re Keanu Reeves, BE MY PATRON NOW!), please message me and I’ll make you my patron. You’re not going to make much money out of me but at least you’ll feel really good about yourself, helping a struggling theatre company in a third world country do well (alongside with your other various charity commitments). Now, imagine how good that sounds to your friends? I help poverty and art in the third world.