So last Saturday I attended my my driving class in the Bintawa area. I got there early so I had to wait for about half an hour before my instructor showed up.
So there was this pretty handsome yet awkward looking guy, dainty and was at least 2 years older than me. I have no idea what method did I use to derive that guess on his age from. So he was talking to this proportionately anorexic lady who turned out to be his mother. At least that's what it looked like anyway. Apparently he was there to see that her driving class go well. They were speaking in an unfamiliar language so I hazarded that they must be people from the minority racial groups.
I'm not done with the visual analysis of this guy's physical appearance. He was almost scrawny, not very much unlike DJ Qualls, you know that redhead who pretended to have Tourette's in The New Guy. His hair was barely there, as if it was made of a clump of hastily clustered together mess of pubic hair. And then his skin was quite fair except for this coin-sized birthmark on his neck that didn't look very natural. I mean instead of a black blotch or something that was at least dark brown, the thing was greyish, almost as if it wanted to be invisible but couldn't. Almost like the color of a fat person's neckline when he just had a good evening aerobic.
And then his teeth ~~~ Jesus motherfucking Christ! His front teeth I swear were almost completely pulverized by caries. There were clear scintillas of very dark matter discoloring what could have been a beautiful smile. Typical case of someone addicted to methamphetamine. It was repugnant. I was sort of angry. LOL.
Yes I said he was handsome. It's because he had the most beautiful round eyes ever. They were brown and bright, which made him look almost innocent. Too bad.
As I was busy admiring him in semi-disgust out of nowhere a man I presume was in the final year of his fourth decade came up and sat next to me. He was bald, his teeth were irregular, and he had this shoddy tattoo on his right hand just above the knuckle of his thumb which spelled the name of a woman, though the age of the tattoo made it illegible. It was probably Juliet. It was ugly, but somehow it felt sentimental.
And then he became chatty. The intercourse revolved around how it had been difficult for him to obtain a valid motorcycle license because of bureaucracy. He explained how he had to travel all the way from Serian just to do this only to have the person in charge of his application postponing it to Tuesday. Apparently he was also illiterate, and from his quick confab with this authoritative person who interrupted us it occurred to me that they were unable to contact each other because his mobile service got cut off. He spoke with an accent, and quite frequently I had to "ah?" because what he was trying to convey was simply foreign to me. Since he said he's from Serian, I gathered he must be of a Bidayuh descent.
I said my goodbye and left. So at that moment my general xenophobic discomfort morphed into sympathy. I imagined being him, and I felt sad. It brought my realization of what people in the remote places experience to a personal level, having spoken to someone coming from that kind of background who had no expectation of how I would react to his story.
It's time to go get lunch, so toodles.
So there was this pretty handsome yet awkward looking guy, dainty and was at least 2 years older than me. I have no idea what method did I use to derive that guess on his age from. So he was talking to this proportionately anorexic lady who turned out to be his mother. At least that's what it looked like anyway. Apparently he was there to see that her driving class go well. They were speaking in an unfamiliar language so I hazarded that they must be people from the minority racial groups.
I'm not done with the visual analysis of this guy's physical appearance. He was almost scrawny, not very much unlike DJ Qualls, you know that redhead who pretended to have Tourette's in The New Guy. His hair was barely there, as if it was made of a clump of hastily clustered together mess of pubic hair. And then his skin was quite fair except for this coin-sized birthmark on his neck that didn't look very natural. I mean instead of a black blotch or something that was at least dark brown, the thing was greyish, almost as if it wanted to be invisible but couldn't. Almost like the color of a fat person's neckline when he just had a good evening aerobic.
And then his teeth ~~~ Jesus motherfucking Christ! His front teeth I swear were almost completely pulverized by caries. There were clear scintillas of very dark matter discoloring what could have been a beautiful smile. Typical case of someone addicted to methamphetamine. It was repugnant. I was sort of angry. LOL.
Yes I said he was handsome. It's because he had the most beautiful round eyes ever. They were brown and bright, which made him look almost innocent. Too bad.
As I was busy admiring him in semi-disgust out of nowhere a man I presume was in the final year of his fourth decade came up and sat next to me. He was bald, his teeth were irregular, and he had this shoddy tattoo on his right hand just above the knuckle of his thumb which spelled the name of a woman, though the age of the tattoo made it illegible. It was probably Juliet. It was ugly, but somehow it felt sentimental.
And then he became chatty. The intercourse revolved around how it had been difficult for him to obtain a valid motorcycle license because of bureaucracy. He explained how he had to travel all the way from Serian just to do this only to have the person in charge of his application postponing it to Tuesday. Apparently he was also illiterate, and from his quick confab with this authoritative person who interrupted us it occurred to me that they were unable to contact each other because his mobile service got cut off. He spoke with an accent, and quite frequently I had to "ah?" because what he was trying to convey was simply foreign to me. Since he said he's from Serian, I gathered he must be of a Bidayuh descent.
I said my goodbye and left. So at that moment my general xenophobic discomfort morphed into sympathy. I imagined being him, and I felt sad. It brought my realization of what people in the remote places experience to a personal level, having spoken to someone coming from that kind of background who had no expectation of how I would react to his story.
It's time to go get lunch, so toodles.
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