Will S'pore become Gridlock City?
Packed buses, elusive cabs, traffic jams on Saturday night. When population hits 6.5m, how?
By Sylvia Toh Paik Choo
July 03, 2007
HOW are we going to deal with this when our population hits its targeted 6.5 million?
Just look at what happened on Saturday night.
The city went into a gridlock like I had not experienced before.
I started out from my Farrer Park home at quarter past 7 for Christina Aguilera's concert, which was to start at the Indoor Stadium at 8pm.
The cab driver's heart sank when he heard 'stadium'.
'Jam, everywhere jam,' he lamented.
Of course! The National Stadium's closing ceremony. (By night's end, it was also one of the NDP rehearsals, the last night for cheaper shopping - before the 2 percentage point GST hike - and the last cigarette puff in public places.)
Everybody went out with a vengeance and the city came close to traffic paralysis.
My cab fare to the stadium was $12, exactly double the normal.
Christina Aguilera was fantastic and worth every dollar ($98 to $348, but how scary are our ticket prices getting for pop shows?)
The concert began late, thank goodness, because most of us were scrambling out of kissing cars, racing across tarmac and turf and up the stairs.
When we poured out after her encore, we saw red.
There were fireworks from the National Stadium's final party, and rows and lines and curves of red tail lights, which, in a moment of fancy, made me think of the necklaces of pigeon blood red rubies from Van Cleef and Arpels.
Fancy immediately turned to frenzy when it struck us all - how do we get out of here?
You could not get a taxi booking - the cabs must all be stuck somewhere.
A short, nervous man spoke into an intercom, 'member, member' and from what I figured he had a fleet of limos hiding in the bushes (of course, I exaggerate here) ready to pick up, so I noticed, ang moh customers.
I was about to ask him if he could book... when an East European woman and child interrupted: 'We are first'. I told her to relax. The man quickly moved away.
I asked a man in neon vest directing the chock-a-block traffic for directions and he made the mistake of saying: 'I don't know.'
I pointed to his uniform and gave him a piece of my mind. He then showed presence of mind: 'If not, I ask my officer help you.'
And the whole thing went on - bumper-to-bumper traffic inching along, party and pop people running to and from two bus stops in search of a way out of the stadium grounds. Where is Bruce Willis when he is needed to sort out a disaster like this one?
If a city of four-million-plus can be paralysed by a hundred thousand going out to two events in the same area on the same day, how will we cope when the number is bumped up by another two million?
In cities like London, on a hot summer's day, I have seen fights break out right in the middle of crowded Piccadilly Circus, tempers fraying in the heat, the rush and the crush.
Did anyone stop to break the fisticuffs? Of course not - everyone was busy scurrying to whatever it was that was drawing them on. Leave it to the police.
Are we bidding to build ourselves up like Dubai? They can, they have vast deserts in their backyard to pile into.
But wait a minute - there is still land around the island. You become aware of it when you take a bus ride.
And that was how I arrived home, two hours after the concert - via Ang Mo Kio.
There were empty buses in the bay and a nice SBS chap said: 'Hello, how are you?'
I told him: 'Quite confused, donno how to get out.'
And he said: 'But at least you remember your name, Paik Choo.' And he showed me where to go.
The special services were designated for Ang Mo Kio, Orchard Road, Boon Lay. The Orchard buses looked like the ones you see in Indian movies, passengers holding the doors together.
I had a birthday party to go to, so I leapt into the Ang Mo Kio double-decker. On the highway, it said: Heavy traffic.
The party was in Telok Kurau. Never made it. Happy birthday, Michelle. The present would have been a Christina Aguilera impersonation.