Duty.

This heard, after much staring at my chest. "Eh, Chan la. Maciam Melayu seh!"

At which point, I promptly made it known that I had seen her staring at my chest, overheard their conversation and settled their argument about my race. What, who says that you can't talk to the people you're supposed to herd? Being in uniform doesn't mean I can't smile and make small talk with the people heading up into the stands. It's much easier than simply being stoic and pointing your arms in the same general direction for two hours.


Now, my shoulders and calves are destroyed thanks to the combination of clubbing and duty immediately after. I can only walk like a penguin, I can't raise my arms properly and I'm sun burnt like crazy. Oh, the things I do for this country.