"There was this little incident in the Mep Room. How should I put it?
As vice-president of Infocomm Club, I suppose I can forgive people who assume that I know computers inside out and that I have dated and slept with every technical equipment that comes randomly to mind.
So we were doing an Mep paper Miss Tsien had for us today, and the relief teacher waltzed in and out of the room, checking on us periodically. Needless to say, she left the track running.
And like the guileless innocent angels we profess to be, we sat down to do our work, presenting the perfect picture of studious students in their element.
We were listening to the African track with the ridiculously long Kora introduction, when someone nudged me to play the track again. Ah yes, of all the people in the room, it had to be me. GASP. Can you believe they were urging me to do something so illegal, fiddling with the TEN THOUSAND dollar system just to push the music back by one track and doing this all with the knowledge that the relief teacher may just waltz back into the room at any moment and catch me cheating? Ah my perfect record. Not. haha.
After a reasonable amount of pushing and nudging, I went hesistantly to the front, tried to make some sense of the five or six buttons, and finally pressed the left arrow, followed by play. I walked back quickly, filled with the sweeet sweeet taste of victory when my friends, namely Letitia, Yu Li and Deirdre, exclaimed in horror that I had paused it. Apparently I was not supposed to press the play button.
All thoughts of victory gone, I rushed back to the front to press the play button. But unlike my usual meticulous self, in my panic, I pressed the stop button. And the wonderful thing is, I didn't realise it at all. I was walking back to my seat when..
That's when I saw their even-more-horrified expressions. "You stopped it!" "Oh my goodness, you pressed the stop button!" "That's the stop button!" "Now the teacher will know that we touched it" "How to make it go back to the African part?!" To say my heart sank would be the understatement of the year.
I rushed forward yet again, and pressed the play button, but obviously it was the modern track that was playing. Suggestions of tracknumbers flew in all directions, richoetting off the walls and plunging into my heart, making it seem as though I had been viciously attacked by an overenthusiastic Cupid. Of course, I was doing most of the panicking.
Then Letitia saved the day. SHe said it was track 48. HOW she knows that, I have no idea. And I had other things on my mind at that point in time. Quite important things I must say, like trying to come up with a good enough excuse as to why the player had suddenly, seemingly, malfunctioned on its own, and started playing the tracks all over again. But I just quickly pressed the button 47 times to make it go to track 48, and almost teleported back to my seat.
Two minutes later, the teacher waltzed back in. After a while, she gazed at the time numbers on the player. Casting a surreptitious glance at her, I saw her counting on her fingers, with the most confused expression on her face. I nearly burst out laughing.
