He Licks And She Sucks

Some time ago, my blogger friend wrote a blog post with a suggestive title, Suck harder! And it will come out. Seeing what big excitement such a title could arouse, I am following in his footsteps. But not by sucking.

Marina Bay Sands (MBS) was the second integrated resort (IR) to open in Singapore this year. The first one was of course Resorts World Sentosa (RWS). Various attractions were opened progressively together with the 2 IRs. RWS had the Universal Studios while the MBS had the Helix (pronounced "he licks") Bridge.

I was at the Helix Bridge to lick soak up the scenic sights on the Saturday night of 22 May 2010. The bridge was crowded.

But only half of it was. The other half was deserted.

Why? Because only half of the bridge was opened; the other half remained closed. Curious people tried to peep beyond the barricade.

Can you differentiate who is the real person in the above photo and who is a cardboard cut-out? (Clue: My younger son is in the photo. Hmm... I can't believe that my 13-year-old son is taller than the adult woman!) Fortunately, the woman is only a cardboard cut-out. If she were real, my son could have been accused of committing khalwat (close proximity).

You could take beautiful photos of the bridge.

You could also take beautiful photos from the bridge.

I am no Feng Shui expert but suddenly, it dawned on me that the bridge should have been more appropriately called Shesux (pronounced "she sucks") instead of Helix. Why, you ask? Get your mind out of the gutter! It is not what you think. The logic is actually quite simple.

See the Singapore Flyer?

It is strategically positioned as the mouth of a giant vacuum cleaner hose while the bridge is the hose itself. This contraption sucks all the wealth from the people into the casino! How evil! How clever!

Moreover, Shesux will surely remind people not to gamble away their life savings at the casino, much better than mild and uncreative warnings like "know the line", "draw the line" or "crossing the line" as expounded by the National Council on Problem Gambling can, I assure you.

Don't believe? Wanna bet?

Chap Ji Ki

Disclaimer: This article is not intended to promote gambling. Read on at your own risk. Should you become addicted to gambling and think you have crossed the line by reading this article, please consult these people.

With the opening of the Resort World Sentosa last week, the topic for this article is still about gambling.

MM Lee is right, the Chinese are congenital gamblers. I was introduced to gambling the game of chap ji ki at a very tender age by none other than my own mother. You see, she often asked me to place bets for her at the coffeeshop downstairs:

I think why she wanted me to do it for her was because our block did not have a lift and we stayed on the 4th storey. In her opinion, a young boy like me would definitely take less effort to climb up and down the stairs compared to a middle-aged woman suffering from rheumatoid arthritis. Being a filial son, I always complied with her orders. Well, she might not be aware then that by doing so, she could be doing more damage to my future than she would have done to her knees.

She would pass me a betting slip that didn't resemble this at all:

Image taken from Singapore Pools website

Instead, it looked something like this:

The wager on the left is on my favorite numbers "6-9" and is called a "pai pai" (排排，Cantonese for "next to each other" or "horizontal") bet . The one on the right is a "jek lok" (直落，"straight down" or "vertical") bet on the numbers 7-10 (How the game is played and the payout system are explained in this Singapedia entry and I need not explain them here.)

My mum, like many housewives of those days, was not formally educated. So instead of indicating the amount of the bet, she would draw symbols - a circle with one slash across it meant 50 cents, a circle with an X across it meant 1 dollar and a smaller circle stood for 10 cents. Technically speaking, the smallest acceptable bet was 10 cents but I think the smallest bet my mum ever placed was 30 cents. Her highest bet on a number was no more than a few dollars so there was no need for symbols of bigger currency denominations. (For the record, the amount for the left bet is $1.80 while the right one is $2.40. Easy, isn't it?)

In return for placing the bets, the coffeeshop owner 阿东(Ah Dong) would scribble a receipt for me in a small notepad and give me a carbon copy.

My mum was meticulous in keeping track of the past winning chap ji ki numbers. She had sheets of A4 sized cards on which she recorded them. She would take them out for study before placing any bets. However, whether this method worked for her or not, I don't know. Although she did strike once in a while, I think like in all gambling, she suffered a net loss overall.

Luckily, in those days, the coffeeshop didn't bar those aged under 18 from buying chap ji ki. If it did, I certainly wouldn't have lived to tell this story. But even more fortunately in my opinion, is that I didn't grow up to be a compulsive gambler, whether through nature or nurture. And for that, I thank the God of Fortune.