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It was ten years ago, during my holiday trip to Singapore. Only seven years old and traveling to a country that I had never visited before, I was understandably nervous. Clenching my mom’s hands, I tried to keep up with her as she zipped through the crowd. After traveling around the country for two days, I got overconfident. I decided that it was time to stop being cautious and roam freely around the mall. As I strolled past the shops, I suddenly realized that my mom was missing. Panicked and frantic, I searched unsuccessfully for my mom in each store I went past. Not knowing where to go or what to do, I started wandering around, lost both physically and mentally. After ambling aimlessly for five minutes, I realized that I could ask other people for help to find my way back to my family. After trying to stop a dozen or so people and not getting any response, I decided to give up and try to find my way back to my cousin’s condo. Luckily, I was able to recall the way back to the condo, however, I still ran into a couple of problems. As I reached the MRT station, I realized that I did not have an MRT card with me. I sat on a nearby bench, looking at the ground, flustered, trying to brainstorm a loophole. After what must have been an hour, I glanced up and saw a sign that said that anyone under the age of six could ride for free. Being a stout boy, I realized that I could trick people into thinking I was under six if questioned. So I decided to sneak onto the MRT after a person with a card. After traveling through seven stations, I finally arrived at the station where my cousin’s condo was located: Paya Lebar. As I approached the gate of the condo, I then had to overcome my second and final hurdle: I was locked out. I lacked a key card since I was just a guest. Drawing on my MRT experience, I stood near the gate and waited for a resident to arrive or depart. After waiting more than fifteen minutes, a resident finally walked out of the condo, and I walked in casually, pretending nothing was wrong. Safely inside the gates of the condo, I rushed upstairs to my apartment to call my parents so they would not be worried. Sadly, they had not even realized I was gone. They had assumed I was with my brother, looking around the shopping mall.
Looking back now on my holiday trip to Sigangapur and the incident, what happened and how it could have gone wrong, I realize how dangerous it all was. A young boy in an enormous country, I could have been lost for days.
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