Butterfly Hates Jurong Point

There aren’t many things in life that can actually piss me off. I might be guilty of being critical of many things like obesity, non-alcoholic drinks, Chihuahuas and Michael Jackson, but very rarely am I actually compounded with irritation on a singular entity.

Sure I hate rain, but I think they are great for sleeping in. I hate pain, but I'm addicted to tattoos. I hate Whales, but watching them dance has such intrinsic humour in it. I hate laughing at disabilities, but have you guys actually seen Rugby on wheelchairs? I hate Jurong point, PERIOD.

Despite people telling you how small Singapore is, it is not. Not when there is Jurong. I swear, it is in a whole different time zone. As I am typing this, it is 11.30pm from where I stay - which is central-, it is 10pm in Jurong. That’s right, if you are travelling from the East to Jurong, you actually reach your destination ahead of time. That’s how you get daylight savings.

How people in Jurong actually get to work in other parts of the island on time is a mystery to me, because I believe they get up at about 5.00am Jurong time (6.30am standard time) and they make their way to town.

I’ve only been to Jurong Point twice in my life so I have no clue as to why people would actually go there unless they stay there. I would have told you that it’s a dead town, but I was wrong, because there were so many people, I thought I took a wrong turn and ended up in Orchard Road.

The only reason why I actually went to Jurong Point was because my usual hair stylist got transferred there, I was too lazy to find a new one and I thought it’ll be nice to take a drive there. Three words to sum it up.

Worst.Decision.Ever

For one, the journey took forever. I was driving for what I believed to be 2 days and I was expecting to see a welcome to Penang sign by the road anytime soon. When I finally got there, I couldn’t find a parking lot. No parking lot at a neighbourhood mall only says two things to me. Bad architectural planning or supermarket sale.

I finally found a lot and I got up the nearest entrance only to find the place packed with people. It puzzled me, but I was late for my appointment since I didn’t expect Jurong Point to be somewhere near Guangzhou, so I rushed off to find #B1-42.

The bad thing was that people walk VERY slowly there. This is something I am not accustomed to because in Raffles Place, everything moves in double quick time, even the escalators work like it’s on Speed. In Jurong Point, everyone seems like they all came from a mass weed festival, because even Terry Fox would whip their ass in a 100m sprint.

I can’t even begin to use the word ‘strolling’ because these people are stopping to look at every other shop. My gawd people, it’s a neighbourhood joint, it’s the same shit every day. And there I was weaving in and out from the human congestion trying to find a simple unit number, while trying not to trip over a stroller.

Now, how hard can it be to locate a single unit number you ask? Well, if this was like any other shopping mall, then it’ll not be a problem, because all you need is a pair of eyes and simple arithmetic sense. Oh no, but in Jurong Point, you need a fucking GPS.

When I finally found the unit number, it turned out to be Banquet. Like what? So, I whipped out the iPhone and checked the internet again, just in case I got the unit wrong. And there it says, “Begin a New Chapter at Jurong Point….#B1-42”. Begin a new chapter of pissness yes, because I cannot possibly be wrong.

So I turned to the closest guy next to me.

Me: “Is this Jurong Point?”

He gave me the look like I was a moron because, where else can I fucking possibly be in the fucking middle of Jurong? He nodded and walked off. Convinced that he might be new to Jurong too, I made a quick check with the security guy, who also confirmed that I was at the right shopping centre.

I made couple more rounds in the place, but 10 minutes later, equally lost and a lot more irritated, I called up the outlet.

Me: “Hi, can I check with you where is your outlet located exactly?”
She: “We are at #B1-42, Jurong Point.”
Me: “I am at #B1-42 and it says Banquet. There is chicken rice and prawn noodles, but no hair saloon.”
She: “We are opposite DBS.”
Me: “I am new to Jurong Point, I do not know the shops.”
She: “Oh, I think you are at the other Jurong Point.”

There is ANOTHER Jurong Point? Do they not know that when you build a shopping mall, you do not build another with the same name? How many fucking Jurong Points can there possibly be?

So I quickly checked with the security again, who pointed me towards the other Jurong Point. Now, there needs to be a simple rule when it comes to joining shopping malls. Firstly, you show a clear distinction or sign that tells you that you are transiting into a new building. And secondly, send me a fucking SMS when it is done.

Why the hell would you want to make it look like it is a mega mall and have same unit numbers? I hate Jurong Point.

I was 30 minutes late, walked way beyond my daily limit, thirsty and in need of a hair-cut. When I got there, I found out that because I was late, I had to wait for 4 more people before I could cut. You can imagine how thrilled I was to discover this.

So what did I do? I opted for some other stylist to cut my hair. So let me re-cap in case you do not see the moronic underlining of this. I travelled all the way to the West for a specific hair stylist, got lost for 30 minutes, and ended up with a novice stylist that looked like she just came out of a Cosplay convention.

I have got to be the dumbest person in that room.