Cognitive Patience: Improving Your Experience Day by Day

I have always been irritable. I jaywalk because I don’t bother waiting for the lights; I get frustrated over the slightest delay of a bus. Why is it always that we are the first car stopped by the lights? In short, I had no chill.

My epiphany took place in a real traffic incident.

I was stuck in the traffic on the first row of the upper deck of the bus. I wasn’t even looking through the windows — yes, a waste of the front seats — I use all my transit time replying to messages and emails as usual. Through the gentle lo-fi music in my earphones, there was a series of low reverberating thuds ahead, followed shortly by a persistent car horn. Only then did I see it — five consecutive cars crashed into each other.

I looked straight into the eyes of my vague reflection in the glass pane. We won’t be home any time soon.

I left my office right before the peak hour began. I sped off at five thirty, delightful about how the day went and how the night could’ve gone — of rest and solitude, with silence to my ears in my studio apartment. Oh how much I would’ve loved it.

With my mood ruined, I may as well start some ruddy administration business, at least I might be able to leave early tomorrow. I laid out my laptop on the narrow window sill, opening emails from different departments and offices demanding receipts and formal communication that I had yet attend.

The fire truck fire through the traffic, flashing in a glorious red, while the ambulance blasted through with their all-so-familiar tune. The police car made a grand entry through the single lane as every other vehicle held their breaths and squeezed a path for them.

I wasn’t beyond sending off the fourth reimbursement form to the secretary before I heard the engine start as the bus vibrated to life.

I glanced at my watch — fifteen to seven.

Isn’t it impressive, what these people could achieve? Clearing a five-car traffic accident within an hour of crashing.

What more do I have to complain?

I left the scene, probably less lighthearted than how I got into it. Scrap home. I’m going to my parent’s home for a quick dinner and a chat.

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This post was previously published on medium.com.

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