Ritualistic Holidays

It was September 2002 – the first year anniversary of the 9-11 tragedy. For a country that was viewed by the rest of the world as a terrorist haven, our nation seemed to have openly joined in the mourning of the thousands who have died on that dreadful day. Widely publicised over air, print and local ISPs, I was beginning to wonder if I was still in Malaysia or that somehow unwittingly I had been teleported to the United States. Radio deejays spoke of 9-11 and terrorism throughout the week repeating themselves in a thousand and one ways. Bill Clinton and Osama jokes wore my ears out. Emails flooded my Microsoft Outlook with comical graphic depictions of Clinton’s rage and Osama’s hiding places. Just for that week I wished I was Osama – underground somewhere far, far away from media bombardment.

Towards the end of the year, three holidays passed us by without even a littering sign on the streets that they had been in town. The Hari Raya went by without a trace even after the Muslim celestial Ramaddan month (the ritual fasting for 40 days much similar to the Christian’s month of Lent). Then came Christmas the week after, and that was more like an extra long shopping spree weekend that spanned a week into New Year’s. There were bargains on every corner as retail outlets attempted to clear their eight months old stocks that have been sitting on their shelves collecting dust due to the economic downturn. Even during the holidays, people are still working as hard as ever. It was almost as if Santa had gone on vacation this year. You’d be a lucky buzzard if you saw Santa Claus rushing on the local electric rail commuting from last minute Christmas shopping to the office because his boss wanted the report which Santa was going to present to the clients the week after New Year. Damn those clients. New Year’s Day was not far from different, as the most exciting thing to happen was a two to three hour traffic bout to watch fifteen minutes of fireworks extravaganza. And after that, another couple of hour’s worth of traffic to get home to catch the next soccer game on the local cable. The only other exciting thing on New Year’s Day was going out onto the night spots and paying an extravagant three times the usual entrance charge for the same amount of rotten music mixing by a half drunk deejay (reminiscing the radio deejay) and booze you’d get on any other weekend. The way I see it, New Year’s countdown is just an excuse to hug and feel up the girls you never had to guts to talk to on a regular night. A few hours later we’re up and fighting a Wednesday morning traffic and it’s not so bad as all upper-management took the week off in Europe. The rest of us have to meet deadlines set just before Christmas day. Don’t upper-management and clients ever realise that it is simply inhumane to set a deadline within a week of New Year’s. My annual ritual like most and in no specific order mind you, is:

1. Christmas eve dinner with family;
2. Christmas Mass normally ending at midnight;
3. Fight traffic heading to night clubs;
4. First Christmas party right after being a good Christian;
5. Avoid police roadblocks while trying to find my way home;
6. Entertaining guest on Christmas day with a hangover;
7. Christmas dinner with friends which normally ends up being Christmas at the bottom of a bottle;
8. Christmas parties and post Christmas parties that span the week into New Year’s;
9. New Year’s eve dinner with family and semi-hangover;
10. Fight traffic into the city to watch senseless fireworks;
11. Fight traffic again heading to night clubs;
12. Give up night club idea and call all friends to find out who’s having a house party;
13. New Year’s party that most will never remember;
14. Avoid police roadblocks; and finally
15. One week’s hangover recovery period.

That is one busy schedule. And yet like sheep we all flock to the offices and pretend that we are actually doing something useful while management lazes around Orchard road drinking beers thinking they are being very intelligent by not giving out a paid holiday week to their employees and hence being very efficient. Everyone else knows that hardly anything ever gets done during this time of the year and yet we waste it rushing into the office only to drool over the keyboard recovering from a hangover, having two hour lunches cause it took half an hour for everyone to decide if anyone’s going out for lunch then another half hour to get up and walk over to the elevators and finally spending the remains of work time discussing yesterday’s party or planning tonight’s. Nobody seems worried as we all know that the bosses will return next week and spend the next fortnight screaming their head’s off from the stress of having seen the itemised bill of the supplementary credit card that their wives’ so happily busted while playing Julia Roberts on Rodeo Drive.

Ah, the holidays. It just brings out the best in us.