Two hours later, after filling out forms and paying a fee, I got a temporary pass. Paper. Flimsy. It felt like a reprimand.
No pass.
That evening, I found the original pass—wedged between my car seat and the console. I held it for a long time, turning it over in my fingers. A piece of laminated plastic. And yet, without it, Jurong Island might as well have been on the other side of the world. lost jurong island pass