The Battle for Face Under the Helmet

In Taiwan, you can live without love, but you absolutely cannot live without a scooter. Last Tuesday, on my way to work, I jolted awake at the last possible second as usual. I dashed downstairs, hopped on my scooter, and put on my helmet, muttering to myself, 'If all the traffic lights are green today, I won't be late.' Just as I was about to start the engine and twist the throttle, I glanced in the rearview mirror – on the edge of my left nostril, a single nose hair was defiantly fluttering in the wind. Time froze. It was already 8:45 AM, a critical moment for my attendance bonus and image. My mind raced: Ignore it? My OCD wouldn't allow it. Tuck it in? I feared it would pop back out. Pluck it right there? Just thinking about it made my eyes water. Staring at that single nose hair holding its ground in the mirror, I was in an internal battle. In the end, I chose the most absurd yet peace-inducing action: I turned off the engine, took off my helmet, and climbed back up to the second floor to get my nose hair scissors. When I heard the crisp 'snip,' I felt a sense of relief like never before. I was five minutes late. But as I walked into the office and faced my boss's displeased expression, my conscience was clear – because I knew my nostrils were now clean, tidy, and impeccable. This is the small yet real daily life of Taiwanese scooter riders. We often make absurd choices for the sake of our dignity amidst our hurried lives.