Reministream: The Swing

My crude drawing of the swing.

One of the most dangerous contraption in a playground is the swing. This is really too sad because it is also one of the most enjoyable...for me, at least.

As a child, I had a couple of harrowing experiences that involved swings. You see, when I was young, our "yaya" or nanny, would take me and my sister to the village's playground which used to be three houses away from our home ( a big three-story house now stands in it's place...pity). There, we would go on the swing and play in the sand with some of the children from the neighborhood. 

I remember the first time I got into a swing accident. I was just walking along behind the set of swings, minding my own business, and then suddenly --- boom --- a swing hit me on the back of my head. Some kid had been swinging really high with such energy and gusto and I failed to see the swing crashing down over me. I went home that day with a bleeding head. I don't remember how my mom reacted when she heard the news, though. 

A few years later, the swing caught me off guard once again. This time, I got hit on the top of my head. I remember volunteering to push my sister while she was on the swing. As she gained height and momentum, I didn't realize that the swing had swung too high that when I moved closer to push the swing once again, it came crashing down on top of me. Again, I went home with blood gushing in torrents out of my head. I remember how my sister cried her heart out that day because she thought she'd killed me. Even though I had blood squirting out of my head and it looked like it needed plumbing to get the blood to stop, I was laughing it off. It didn't hurt at all. I was telling my sister that I would be okay, that it was just a wound. I remember it so vividly until now (proof that my skull might have been bashed open but at least I still had my brain intact)! What I still don't remember was how my mom reacted to the news once again, but I do remember that she had to cut and shave off the hair surrounding the gash, put some white cream on it (Zinc Oxide, I believe...it wasn't the first or last time I got that cream on my head) and a bandage. I don't remember ever being brought to the hospital...I think I was more afraid of the doctor than of dying...yes, I was the one who did not want to go and get my head checked. If I turn out to be crazy because of all those head injuries I have had throughout the years...well, all I can say is that in this case, ignorance is bliss!

I can't imagine now how my mom must have felt whenever she'd come home from work only to hear about my swing incidents...more proof that we weren't the boring part of her life, hehe.

Now that I think about it, those swing incident didn't really traumatize me because even now, as an adult, whenever I'd see a swing I would still happily get on it...consequences be damned. ;-p

Safetystream: Elevator Safety

Last Friday, I was in the elevator on my way to the basement parking of my workplace's building. I was looking forward to finally going back home and spending the day with my siblings. On the Ground floor, the elevator door would usually automatically open to let more people in before heading off to any other floor, whether up or down. I waited patiently when the doors opened but nobody stepped in. When not in a hurry, I would wait for the door to close on its own rather than force it to close with the "Close" button. And so, I waited some more. 

 Nada. 

I stood at the farthest corner of the cab, just staring into space. The elevator doors started to close as I watched it in a trance-like state. 

Two inches...

One inch...

Just as it was about to completely close, a hand appeared right in the middle of the closing gap. The hand started moving up and down rapidly as if trying to frantically ask for some higher being (like the door's sensors) to notice it. 

The doors continued to close and it was closing in on the intruding hand. It did not care. I heard a desperate squeak from the hand (its owner, to be exact) before I finally was able to leap to it's rescue and press the "Open" button. A small woman of about 40-ish got in with a sigh of relief.

I could not let the incident pass and told her:

"Safety first. Be careful."

She gave me a guilty chuckle before she turned to face the doors. 

I shook my head and sighed. I wanted to tell her that I've heard of some gristly stories about people getting their body parts trapped in between the doors and getting mauled as the cab started moving. I've heard of people getting their shoes, bags and other apparel stuck in between as it would move up or down to its limit and stay there till the doors opened again. I thought those were great examples of apparent disregard for one's safety. I, personally, would just allow the doors to close and wait for the next cab to open. It wasn't worth risking a hand, an arm or a foot. 


I wanted to tell her all those things but it would have turned out to be a scolding...for a perfect stranger. Besides, it was my turn to get past the door to get out  on to my designated basement floor. I was glad the other passenger waited for me to step off completely before she moved to push the "Close" button.

...and she wasn't even supposed to go down because I saw her press the number 12.