Saturday, February 26, 2005

cebu city charter day in leyte

last thurs, i trade ironies and sarcasms with a monster of a trainee in tacloban.

by noon, with an empty stomach, i dump my belongings into my luggage with a hope to make it to ormoc by the nextsupercat trip to cebu.

at the public utility van terminal, i am met by an anxious dispatcher rattling off in waray that the waiting van leaves as soon as one final passenger gets on board. we all know what that means. least wanted seat.

i squeeze into the small crevice between two middle-aged hombres at the back seat, by butt hanging over the edge. i yell over the music to the driver, asking him to turn up the air conditioning. he replies that it was on maximum cool already.

this is a three-hour trip that would seem like three days.

the man to my right reads the national paper with single-minded determination as he spreads it, turns and rustles the pages, folds and unfolds them, apparently oblivious to the discomfort he is weilding when pages brush against my face or his elbow pokes into my ribs. soon enough, he gives up the effort and dozes off while his duffel bag slips onto my lap every time the van takes a sharp right.

the man to my left dozed off the moment we roll down the thoroughfare. he sleeps with his head thrown back and his mouth open. he snores and he seems to be stricken with halitosis. every time the van takes a left, his weight is pushed into my side and i slide off my little space inch by inch. i am about ready for the lord.

and the lord cancelled all supercat trips for the day.

i drag my luggage to the nearest hotel. in a stupor, i mumbled a request to the concierge to have the bellhop bring my stuff to the room while i eat a 530pm lunch.

i walk to the internet cafe and the attendant tells me that the service provider is down. whatever that means, it sounds sinister.

so i walk back to the hotel in an even blurrier stupor and some scrawny high schoolboy on a motorbike lets out a sudden yell as the two gro-looking high schoolgirls riding behind him shriek in terror. they miss me by an inch on the curb. and as i turn to assess the street, lo and behold, there were miles of space on the bend for him to sensibly make an amateur turn. i yell profanities in their wake. startled passers-by stare at me as i walk the last few meters in a huff.

at least the bath tub is newly-installed.

3 Comments:

Blogger jillsabs said...

just keep on saying "Generale here i come!" whenever crappy job-related things happen to you :)

February 27, 2005 at 3:24 AM  
Blogger tessa said...

generali

March 23, 2005 at 3:26 AM  
Blogger Den said...

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Very nice.
If you are interested, go see my pocketbike related site.
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October 8, 2005 at 10:57 AM  

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