The station master must have wished he had stayed in bed instead of having to deal with two alien cultures in one morning. A very dark African in a business suit was obviously having problems communicating with the paleface ang moh. Seeing the chicken-duck conversation was not getting any headway, we barged in with our own request for assistance. He looked at us quixotically and asked if we spoke English. Yes, we do, we announced with pride, and he proceeded to provide us with directions for the platforms. At this, the flustered African turned blacker than his natural complexion and protested, "But I am speaking English too!" The station master suddenly realised his gaffe, and turned to answer the African bro's travel questions, the fog of cultural bias having been lifted. We didn't mind, we have experienced our own headaches with the strange speech of the foreign elements in our midst at home.
The trains here are only 80 percent full at peak - that's seats occupied, nobody has to stand. The cabins have power points to charge your mobile phone during the ride, and a toilet onboard. Don't suggest these nifty features to the SMRT fellows, they'll just use them as excuses to hike the fare, again.