Walk The Walk

A recent study has shown that Singaporeans are one of, if not the, world's fastest walkers.

Do you walk fast?

A part of me wasn't really surprised at the announcement, which of course made for a fairly interesting read when I did catch it enbedded between the half-page ads of slimming gadgets and hair implants.

Singaporeans, if anything, are kiasu. Wikipedia defines kiasu as "the fear of losing", which is pretty accurate I guess. Menopausal housewives with jade-covered fingers can be more daunting than The Undertaker when they want to grab that last free gift. Seriously.

So is it really shocking that we are a nation of power-walkers?

Everyone here is so obsessed with coming out on top, or at least keeping up. Kids barely into their puberty are lectured by their parents when they score a measly B grade on a class test, because the kid from the Wong family next door got a B+. Hordes of students and working adults crush everyone else on our public transport systems, defying the law of displacement when they squeeze into already-crowded buses and trains. Human sardine cans.

Myself, I usually walk fairly quickly too. Some might say that I don't have the best sense of direction, so the speed of me moving can be rather confusing. I try not to listen to the doubters, I just hate being inefficient. Same goes for eating. Why spend an hour munching on fries when I can finish the fries, burger and Coke in under three minutes?

There's a flip-side, of course.

I refuse to believe that the study ranks Singapore as THE fastest walking nation. I mean, sure, alot of people here are indeed kiasu and I wouldn't bat an eyelid if I see an elderly wheelchair-bound lady whoosh past just to save a few seconds on waiting time for the next train.

But there are so many people who just don't seem to get the concept of other people.

You know what I'm talking about. The ones that take their time walking. The ones that stroll along while you're fuming behind them. The ones you glare at from behind their backs, maybe clucking your tongue every now and then in the hope that that simple act will suddenly propel them to Brunei.

Of course, I get that sometimes you walk slowly. You don't sprint through an art gallery. You don't dash through the zoo. You don't bust a gut in the library.

But neither do you imitate a sloth at the foot of an escalator. Or start shuffling instead of striding when you see something sparkly in a shop-window, leaving the unfortunate souls behind you with a rather uncomfortable close-up of your rump.

It's just weird, and another one of my pet peeves, I guess. I told you guys before (and many times since) that I abhore crowds. Shopping, parades, clubs, whatever. Crowds. Anathema.

Especially when you're trying to get somewhere fast.