That Much Needed Gaiety: A Sequel to Mile Marker 418

The participants of ICMSM 2011 are already pouring into the island but I don’t really care. They’re either the avaricious academics I so often denounce or Facebook-addicts in lab coats. The latter are a common sight in most labs from 9 to 5 each day; present company excepted.

Included – in the exodus of the educated – are two very special people who worked shared their life together with us more than a year ago (and still do, virtually). Meet Kelvin Swee, the dude who says ‘yes’ to everyone and the same guy who spent an inordinate amount of time cleaving MUNANA using neuraminidase to yield methylumbelliferone. The two groups of people in paragraph 1 should be ashamed. Boy, is he a sight for sore eyes when I walked into the lab during lunch hour. Didn’t know he’d be there today since I’ve agreed to meet with the other fellas.

Immediately, that marketplace feel I missed since their departure came back. Funny how the situation quickly turned out to be like speed dating on epinephrine and it was cacophonous at time. Handshakes. Pats. Lots of laughter. Conversations in English, Hokkien, Mandarin, and Malay. Rarely anyone completes two sentences in one language. I wonder what the Syrian dude, who was with Kelvin, thought of us. I wonder, too, what 'rojak' is in Arabic.

As I’m typing this, some of them decided to get together at Straits Quay. I’m giving that a pass since I’d be meeting Kelvin and Wen Tyng (the second dudette who will be giving an oral presentation) during the congress’ opening tomorrow. Due to the inept handling of my registration and payment (processing took 1 month!), I was told two weeks ago that payment didn’t go through yada yada... And I found out today how much they have to worry about spending for work-related activities: imperceptible. USM 0 — UM 20.

Hopefully, meeting them and attending conference together as presenters would alleviate that feeling of despair. I’m optimistic about this ☺. I should turn in now. Too much jocund repartee, guffawing, and a hot afternoon are giving me a raspy voice.

A sequel to Mile Marker 418. I ought to think harder about the title next time.