I mean, what are the fucking chances, right?
I was on my way to meet Sarah for brunch in Admiralty, and I was on the MTR leaning on the wall next to one of the train doors. I remember exactly which compartment it was, because my OCD self always makes sure to stand in
that spot: the very first compartment of section six, against the white wall and not the glass surface where there are seats. I hope I explained this well enough because I'm not gonna draw a diagram. Only my parents and Jason know why I always pick the very first compartment of each section - it's the warmest spot on the whole MTR, but that's for another post altogether.
Anyway, it was a crowded on the train at around 2PM on Saturday. We were at Wan Chai. Nearly there - just one more stop. Like everyone else, I was engrossed in my phone. The MTR doors opened and a bunch of people spilled out to get to their destinations. The compartment was empty for perhaps a millisecond before an equally large group of people filled the space. One of these people was a middle aged woman who was in conversation with her daughter.
The woman was talking with hand gestures. They weren't particularly big or anything. But just before the doors closed, her hand caught the side of my phone, and she basically knocked it out of my grip.
It was like a horror story. The whole damn crowd seemed to disperse as we all watched my iPhone drop in slow motion. It hit the floor, bounced once, bounced twice - and honestly, that was already bad.
But it didn't stop there. I screamed (yes, I actually screamed out loud - though it was more like a weak, raspy gasp) as it bounced closer and closer to the MTR gap between the train and the platform... and fell in.
It fucking fell in.
Time froze. Hell,
everybody froze. I looked at the woman who had knocked my phone out of my hands in shock, and she stared back at me with a matching expression.
"Run - run to the MTR concierge and tell them what happened - now!" People started saying to me.
I didn't even think twice about pulling the woman with me. It wasn't exactly her fault - or was I being too nice? Either way, I was in full on panic-mode and didn't have time to get all vengeful as I hopped out of the MTR and sprinted to tell the staff what had happened.
If you're curious, I collected my phone the next day (they fished it out after the last train stopped at midnight) and it still works. iPhone, you're incredible. But of course the screen is all shattered and I can't use it without putting it inside a ziplock bag because the jagged glass cuts real bad.
I don't even know what to file this under, so I'll just categorise it as "random". What the actual fuck.
