Nithin and I

You can curse your fate and fight against destiny, but sometimes, when you least expect it, the divine conspires and offers you a treat or two, tantalizing you to believe in something bigger than yourself again. Synchronicity works its way to provide you the perfect timing to make certain decisions under some pretty doubtful circumstances but alas, to reap the rewards, patience is absolutely vital.

Outside the Apple Store at the Galleria Mall, I am pacing. I look at my watch every now and then and sigh. They are so late, I mutter. I open my book and read the eight page of Napoleon Hill’s Think & Grow Rich, but I couldn’t concentrate. When restlessness kicks in, I close my book, turn and see a familiar figure that I once used to trade travel and writing tips over a couple of milky hot teas.

“Hello,” he says, his face breaking into a big grin. “It’s so weird to see you. But I swear you were much taller before.”

Two and a half years ago, Nithin, an American Couchsurfer, and I were frequently caught engaged in heated pseudo-intellectual debates, under the umbrellas of street food stalls in Kuala Lumpur. He was part of the rising Couchsurfing cult that comprised of my crazy but well-travelled Malaysian friend, Ed, the Dutch who never quite made it to New Zealand ever since he stepped foot in Malaysia, Stef, fun loving Philadelphia, Matt, and yours truly. We met and said our goodbyes at different corners of South East Asia and did it so many times that I really didn’t remember when was it really the ‘last goodbye’. Our friendship has seen us through various misadventures in Malaysia, Thailand and Cambodia.

Since then, we have always kept in touch. An email every 6 months was pretty common. Last winter, he expressed desire to travel Europe again and asked me if I would still be in London. I shook my head no since by that time, I was expected back on the ship. And then, his plans fell through. This year, he sent me another email asking the same thing but unfortunately, for the very same reasons, I sadly shook my head no. But interestingly, he later wrote to tell me that his girlfriend and him would be doing a road trip to Miami before his planned trip to Europe. And what do you know, I happen to be on a ship that docks at Fort Lauderdale every weekend, which is just a 45-minutes train ride from Miami!
Who would have thought that of all the places, South Florida is the place where we’d see each other again?

Despite the wind and the cold, it was still a nice afternoon. Nithin introduced me to his very friendly girlfriend, who also seem to share his love for literature and travel. We reminisced about the past, reflected about the present and shared our anticipation for the future. I felt myself talking faster than usually, occasionally stumbling on long words, trying to say as much as possible during our brief time together. It was so heartening to connect with another like-minded, what more with one who’s an old friend of yours.

I love serendipitous encounters like this! I know it was a pre-conceived plan but I definitely didn’t choose to be in Fort Lauderdale to see him and neither did he plan to come to Miami to see me either. He and his girlfriend bought the tickets way before they knew that I was going to be there.

Sometimes, life can be quite sweet after all.

PS-Thanks for the book too, Nithin!

30 minutes to counting down, I was at Marco’s cabin, desperately wishing that he would do something that would help reassure me of my fears. But he did not. He said nothing and continued to pluck his acoustic guitar.

“So shall we go up to the pool to join Francesca and Moreno for the countdown?” I asked finally, when I could no longer take the heavy, draggy silence.

“If you want to go, you can. I’m staying here,” Marco said.

“Come with me,” I begged.

“You know how I don’t like small talk and random people,” he said. “But if you want, go. Don’t stay here and be stupid.”

I bit my lip to stop tears from rolling down my cheeks. His curt and insensitive comment had rendered me soulless and powerless to enjoy the night. I wanted him to like me, to understand me-so badly. He was the only person that I could relate to, on the ship. He was interesting, witty, intelligent and talented. It was his love for traditional folk music that drew me to him. I have always got a penchant for surly artists who live a bohemian lifestyle. While Marco was holding down one of the most boring and practical positions on board, a Desktop Publisher, only those close to him know that he’s much more than that.

For the past few weeks, while we have both each other’s company, it was clear that I was the only one, who was trapped in a romantic delusion, thinking that he was more than a friend. The relationship was toxic but addictive. In order to not be alone, I surrender to his cruelty. He used my heart whenever needed but refused to return any forms of genuine affection.
I knew it was dangerous but I was powerless. I couldn’t bear the thought of being alone.

Yet at that moment, when the new year is about to arrive, and no matter how much commercial significance has placed onto that one day, I still wanted to celebrate it with him. But even though he was there, I have never felt so alone in my whole life before.

I have learnt a great lesson from then on. I told myself that I will never let anyone hurt me that way again. I will never scrounge or beg for affection or company if it doesn’t fill me up with happiness. I will let go of relationships that are damaging. True friendship or love should never work that way.

And that’s why, this time round, I was pleasantly enjoying the self-induced solitude on New Year’s eve. I had books for company, the TV (Billboard Countdown was on) for distraction and thoughts of the lovely boyfriend to fill my mind with.

It was enough. It wasn’t thrilling but it was fulfilling in some way. I was finally enjoying me.

It was a navigation day (where the ship cruises across the ocean without stopping) and I had absolutely nothing to do. My morning classes finished even before some passengers were even awake. After running through a list of things I could do but without getting an infraction for, I decided to do my laundry.

Laundry business is the most annoying on the ship, simply because it takes too long to do it. How difficult can it be, you think to yourself. Well, for  ship that houses at least 958 crew members, they only have ONE laundry room with 5-6 washing machines and only 1.5 dryer that actually works. 1 works fine while the other takes 2 hours just to get some underwear hot and crisp. Go figure

I didn’t have much-just a bunch of socks, undergarments, a t-shirt or two and my pajamas (it helps if you wear your uniform at all times). I stepped into the Laundry Room and saw huge, industry strength machines rocking their steel forms off. A bartender was sitting on the huge washing sink, with headphones plugged in as he waited for his laundry. Two others from the Engine department were leaning against the wall, chatting but their eyes watched their washing machines like mothers waiting to punch those who dare touch their children.

The problem with lack of washing machines is, because there are way too much washing to be done but without enough facilities to do it, the natural survival instincts kick in. People with 14 hour work schedules will walk into the Laundry Room, scan for an orphan washing machine, stop it, take out the wet laundry that hasn’t quite finished yet and dump theirs in. Finders, keepers.

Then of course, there’s a mad rush for the dryer too. The same theory applies as well.

So when I walked in, I was lucky enough to find a free laundry machine. Like a rodent who’s found some cheese, I quickly pushed my way through a bunch of people, dumped my clothes in, sprinkled the washing powder over and waited. Thank god, I brought a book with me.

But even as I waited, my eyes scanned predatorily for an available dryer. There was a Philippino guy who was guarding his dryer obsessively but there wasn’t another laundry basket with wet clothes on it.

“Is there anyone waiting for your dryer?” I asked.

“Nope. I’ve got 25 more minutes to go,” he replied.

“Great. When you’re done, let me know.”

And I waited. In this case, patience is indeed a virtue. Or all good things come to those who waits. Whatever.

As the clock ticked, Raquel, an Animator Cruise Staff and her boyfriend walked in. I looked up from my book and said hi.

“No machines free, eh?” her boyfriend said.

“ Dunno. Tough luck.” I said.
I scanned around the room from my little corner to see there was anyone remotely close to having their laundry done….and then I saw it. This petite Philippino girl, who was still wearing her yellow Bar service uniform but with shorts and flip flops were in a midst of sorting her laundry out. She had like a Santa’s sackful worth of dirty clothings which she is now separating and putting into 4 different washing machines. Is that really necessary at all?

No wonder people are pissed off.