The Republic of Awesome

Over dinner back in Singapore, I sat around discussing with Kevin about the ‘Standout in Life’ contest. We realised we had to do something major. Something massive. Something… Spartan.

The conversation essentially went like this:

Kevin: “Hey have you heard about the Tiger Beer Standout in Life contest?”

He goes on to elucidate on the details.

Roger: “I don’t see why we shouldn’t join. We’re pretty much the ultimate in standing out.”

Kevin: “Yes!  But we need something extra awesome! I want to make this something that’ll standout above all others!”

Roger: “Hey remember that time I dressed up as a Spartan and ran around the hostel? Omg you still have the pictures right… don’t upload them on 4chan…”

Kevin: “YES! That’s a great idea! We can dress up as Spartans!! How about we make it more awesome than that…”

Roger: “How about we dress up as Spartans and run around somewhere public?”

I’m always coming with ideas faster than I can evaluate their possibly negative consequences. Oh well.

Kevin: “That’s exactly what we have to do!! When you going back? This Saturday can? I’ll call Chia Wei to photograph for us.”

Roger: “Set lah!! I’ll go get the stuff!”

Saturday came and went, thanks to much procrastination. Sunday rolls around and I decide it can’t wait much longer. I pick up the phone and call Kevin up.

Roger: “Eyh let’s do this man! I’ll by your place at say 4 then we’ll make it to 1Utama by dinner time. That’s when the most people will be there.”

Kevin: “What?? Don’t la weyh! What if I bump into someone who knows me?!”

I apparently couldn’t really care since my circle of friends stay a significant geographical distance from 1Utama. I bulldoze my way through and we agree to Spartan-ing at 6.

Yes I know. It’s a wonder I have any friends at all.

We have a final rendezvous at Chia Wei’s place. Kevin and I are on Spartan duty, Chia Wei’s the photographer, and Tysern’s there to be the anchor.

Yes anchor – every dangerous/socially unacceptable caper needs one. It’s the anchor’s job to keep hassling the others of the negative consequences of their actions.

Gathering our supplies in an abandoned trolley, we prepare for our trek to total embarrassment glory.

On the precipice of doing something likely to end in disaster, I seriously wonder how I made my friends go through with it. Oh right. Here’s how:

Roger: “Don’t pussy out on me man.”

Once again, I wonder how I have any friends at all.

A quick change in the bathroom, then out we went. No hesitation on our part.

One small step for a man, one giant motherf’ing Spartan flying kick for humanity!

We walk straight into a wall of stares. Whoever expects to get raided by ancient Greek warriors on a sleepy Sunday evening?

A little advertising for the competition’s sponsor, Tiger Beer, and we’re off.

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