The Midnight Orchestra

It happens when you least expect it.

It strikes when people are at their most vulnerable state; like a phantom sneaking up behind a day-dreaming adolescent.

What’s worse, it acts when we are all sleeping; during moments of deep slumber. It corrupts the sweetest of dreams, the paramount of rests, and the sanctity of the bedroom.

“It” is snoring.

Snoring, according to www.snoringhq.com, are caused by restrictions in the throat or nasal area, usually the air-track. It’s pretty much like a clogged pipe-passageway of a sink. The only difference is that sinks don’t usually make monstrous noises that wake and piss people off at 2a.m. in the morning.

Well, a sink name Eddie does. So does one named Kim.

How would I know? Well, Eddie and Kim went up to Genting (Malaysian pronunciation, please) last weekend along with 6 other girls. Heck, there was actually another male that doesn’t really pass for a male in the first place, but that’s another matter.

And as many would have expected, we had pretty much fun. Haha, at least while the sun was up. *snicker* After a full day of taking photos in weird poses, watching couples hug and snuggle each other, popping sweet corn like no tomorrow and playing bowling at an obviously overpriced alley, the 8 of us fortunately managed to crawl back into our room.

With the mattresses spread out till every inch of the room, shoes and socks all over the place and 3 empty packages of junky chickadees later, Eddie just couldn’t open his eyes for a second longer. Within minutes there he was, sprawled across the room like a goddamned Arabic rug.

A rug that snores! What the hell in the world could be worse? Hmm, maybe sleeping on a freaking hard-ass bed without a pillow was. And stinky shoes.

But the snoring, I tell you, was horrendous.

The girls kept shouting “pig!”, but their efforts were left in vain. They struggled in their cramped spaces, covering their ears but to no avail. The evil unstoppable snoring rug was on a roll and he was bent on shattering the windows of Genting Resort’s Room 487. The more they complained, the louder it became. Arabian rug-man was a battalion of snorting demons from hell, and nothing on this holy mother of earth could stop his ultrasonic arsenal.

So there I was, trying my best to fight the cold and clog ‘em ears. Man, those sounds were armour piercing!@@$#!$!$!! I went to the loo a couple of times, emptying my bladder despite the growl across the room.

Around 4.45 a.m., I joined the deranged slumbering beast. The pipes were blown. The bells were rung. The violins and cellos and double-basses played in equal harmony. No one, I repeat, no one, was in any position or power to stop the Midnight Orchestra. All they could do to save their sorry ass is to pray that time would move faster. And to applause at the end, of course.

Day 1: Listening to the midnight orchestra.

Day 2: Bitching bout the midnight orchestra.

God bless weekend holidays.