It was '72. I was 6. Their Majesties dropped in on our sunny isle to see how their old colony was doing. Mom was preggers but was nevertheless excited to have a chance to look at royalty up close and personal. They were scheduled to make an appearance at the then Singapore Turf Club (now Turf City). Somehow, Mom bundled me there and got close to the barricade bordering the red carpet on which the Royals would walk back to their motorcade. However, where we were standing, Mom may have been barely tall enough to see, but not me. All I saw were the legs of the union jack-waving throng lining the carpet. Determined not to miss a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to see characters I've only read about come to life, I pushed forward and inched my way to the front. Perhaps I was too determined, but to everybody else's horror, I found myself ON the red carpet. Just then, a man patted me on the head and said, "Ho, ho, ho, look at this little boy!" and carried on walking along with a bunch of other people. Then nothing else happened. The royal party had walked past me, and I didn't get to see the Queen.
I was disappointed. All that effort, gone to waste. When Mom finally caught up with me, she revealed that the man I encountered was Prince Phillip himself! But my 6-year old mind could not comprehend that royalty did not dress in crown, gown, and scepter as they did in my picture books. They wore people clothes, and I didn't recognize them as what I saw did not match up to what I expected to see.
And maybe that, too, is the story of my life.
