tambucho-tales

SWEET LOVER

2011-11-26T09:05:00.000-08:00

TITLE: SWEET LOVER
TAMBUCHO TALE #: 41
DESTINATION: AYALA AVENUE
TRT: ABOUT 20 MINUTES

When I hailed the LRT Ayala-bound bus in Libertad, I was the lone passenger. I took my favorite spot - the front seat. The cute bus conductor inquired for my bus stop and I responded. I was about to ready my fare but he didn't reach for the ticket yet. Busily composing a text message, I absentmindedly provided answers to the back-to-back questions regarding my civil status, my place of residence, motivation for having my tongue pierced, frequency of visiting Ayala Avenue and so on. The last question made me cease pushing my keypad and realized how unnecessary the interrogation had become. I reacted with a question where would this probing lead.

It seemed he didn't hear me the first time so I repeated I'm currently in a relationship. The bus conductor went on to say that the grinning bus driver, seated next to him and thankfully fixated on the road ahead of us (the bus had other passengers already by this time), would like to obtain my digits. I declined, saying my boxer of a boyfriend would not appreciate it.

Then the driver stopped playing a mute role and hinted that if he were my boyfriend, he'll make sure I don't go unescorted to places. I can't help but laugh. The last time I checked, I'm far from being a clingy girlfriend plus he's engaged saving the world one boxing student at a time. The bus conductor was convinced that there's no competition at all between this boxer vs. bus driver bout. He went on to remind me of that annoying cliche that drivers are sweet lovers and asked how was it to have a boxer as a boyfriend. With much conviction, I told them: "Yun ang totoong sweet lover!"

GAYA GAYA

2011-11-02T18:16:00.000-07:00

TITLE: GAYA GAYA
TAMBUCHO TALE #: 33
DESTINATION: TALABA
TRT: ABOUT 35 MINUTES

Remember this entry? I ended up cancelling my plans for a long walk from PBCom along Ayala Avenue to Tropical Hut along Sen, Gil Puyat Avenue when I spotted a BSC Golden Dragon bus with a signboard that reads PALA PALA, DASMARIñAS this morning instead of the usual Erjohn & Almark. I had to ask Marz if I were imagining things.

My new best friend! Photo lifted here.

This was definitely good news! This means that we Caviteños have a growing number of buses to take us to and from Makati. With Erjohn monopolizing the yuppies and not-yuppies-anymore market in Cavite (until today), you could just imagine the violent scenarios when commuters squeeze themselves inside! Aside from that, I've always been a fan of BSC Golden Dragon for its consistently clean interiors and ample legroom. To my surprise, the Ayala Avenue-Talaba, Bacoor fare amounted to only P25. I remember shelling out P28 for the Ayala Avenue-Baclaran distance eons ago. Competitive pricing, it is!. Clap, clap, clap!

I had a hard time taking a nap during the ride home. It was too good to be true!

HEARING AID

2011-08-21T01:53:00.000-07:00

TITLE: HEARING AID
TAMBUCHO TALE #: 39
DESTINATION: SEN. GIL PUYAT AVE.
TRT: THE LONGEST 10 MINS EVER!

It was our lunch break. For nocturnal corporate slaves like us, that's sometime between 1:30-2:30am. Abby, Lady, Edric, Gary and I all agreed to give the so-near-yet-so-far Tokyo Tokyo in People Support Center a visit. I'm typically up for the long walk, but that early morning, I'd rather squeeze my eyelids shut, snap my fingers and get transported to the mentioned fastfood joint even before I get to say, "Nuknukan sa liit ang kani salad niyo!" Fortunately, they echoed my desires.

As the biggest among us, I got myself seated next to the cabbie. I told him we'd like to get to Tokyo Tokyo. Considering our office was just along Ayala Avenue, it should be as easy as 1-2-3. Then, Lady changed her mind and said we can dine in Tropical Hut instead. I repeated what she said for the cabbie in my typically loud voice and assumed that he understood where we're headed.

And so we continued with our chatter. I noticed the cabbie made an unnecessary pause and directed his car as if he'd do a left turn to Salcedo St. I don't claim to be an expert in Makati short-cuts, but I am yet to see the best way to Tropical Hut from that area. I remember "suggesting", "What if sa Army Navy (in Dela Rosa St.) na lang tayo mag-lunch?" Somebody laughingly reacted, "Nag-cab pa tayo kung doon pala tayo kakain!" And so the cabbie turned to the left. OK, fine.

We got engaged in an animated conversation again until I noticed Edric started to play a mute role and suppress his occasional tendency to transform a la The Hulk to happen. I turned around to see the view outside and realized we're headed to the wrong direction. Me and my big mouth can't help it. "Kuya! Hindi po sa Little Tokyo! Tokyo Tokyo dapat tayo kanina! Pero Tropical Hut na!"

Looking back, I don't remember if he offered an apology or just scratched his head and asked for directions or what. I remember Abby mockingly suggested "Dyan na lang sa King's Court! Kina Gary na lang tayo kumain!" while we're en route to Pasong Tamo. At that point, Edric continued to act like a volcanic eruption waiting to happen. When we finally arrived, the fare amounted to P70+.

After enjoying our meal, we initially decided to go for a long walk to avoid any Tourette's Syndrome-inducing encounters with a cabbie again. But it started to drizzle and, for Lady's benefit, we hailed the first cab that emerged out of the darkness. Guess what? Our trip to Valero St. was a breeze and the bill just amounted to P50+.

Insert cuss words here.

CROTCH

2011-05-28T09:05:00.000-07:00

TITLE: CROTCH
TAMBUCHO TALE #: 38
DESTINATION: SAN NICOLAS
TRT: 15 MINS

I was down to my last jeepney ride after OT that morning. I was already seated in the estribo and engaged in a chat with an officemate seated across me. All of a sudden, my short attention span directed me to meet the eyes of a passing baby bus (yup, the ones in Cavite) conductor outside. He yelled, "Sakay na!" while motioning to his crotch. And... I must admit my reflex made my eyes follow his hands. Then I felt disgust spread all over my exhausted body.

Why am I so bastusin?!

STRANDED

2011-03-07T07:52:00.000-08:00

TITLE: STRANDED
TAMBUCHO TALE #: 37
DESTINATION: TALABA
TRT: 15 MINS

Tonight, the office expects me to rise above the knee sprain that slightly crippled me for a solid week and bright up the back-breaking black hole we all love to loathe. If it were as tragic as my kneecap dislocation and meniscus tear episode almost two years ago, I would be asking for one more month to fully recuperate. Since I felt 1.) blessed my poor knee wasn't that messed up this time, 2.) obliged to work on my backlog and 3.) impatient to finally execute a 7-day overdue world premiere of an ukay ukay find, I found myself eager to go back to work. In fact, I, renowned for my consistent tardiness, left an hour earlier than the usual. That way, I can have the sweet silence in the workplace by myself to focus on my tasks. Oha!

On second thought, this afternoon's rehab session practically made the swelling in my right knee disappear. I felt reeeally better and stronger to conquer anything after. My therapist-turned-friend reiterated the rehab doctor's instruction for me to use a single tip cane for walking and, knowing I'm too kikay to be seen with such in public, advised I may use an umbrella instead. She also hinted she was not happy to see me again in the confines of the hospital. So I better take heed!

I removed the folded umbrella from my huge bag and practiced with my own Lost in Translation umbrella before leaving. I found it not sturdy enough to rely on and dismissed the idea. Before pushing the gate door open, I paused to deliberate if I must recollect the folded umbrella. Considering the great amount of sunshine today, I deduced I would only use it as canopy on my commute home. With my sunglasses already deposited in my bag, I changed my mind. I was in a hurry, remember?

To my shock, the skies started throwing a river of tears and occasional yet frightening thunderbolts while I was in a jeepney en route to Talaba. I realized how scared I was when a fellow passenger gave me a will-you-calm-down-please stare after I muttered, "This can't be happening,"

A few feet away from Talaba, the traffic light turned red. I was tempted to linger inside the jeep to remain dry but, knowing my inability to leap like a frog if the lights go green, I thought it will be more risky if I do so. Neither was I confident I could sprint from the jeepney stop (near Tropical Hut) to the bus stop (to Baclaran and beyond) on opposing ends if it were Aguinaldo Highway that separates them. I opted to step down as gingerly as possible and limped to the nearest roof I can find.

Traffic light went red, green and back. Other motorists came and went. The water continued to rise. I felt the downpour coupled by the harsh winds on my back and my lower limbs. The longer I stood there, the more I got reminded of the energy I exerted in walking from my residence to the waiting shed outside our subdivision because I couldn't locate a pedicab. I can also hear my orthopedist's voice, asking me to avoid any weight-bearing activities, namely prolonged standing position. I felt the corner of my eyes water in self-pity and desperation.

Then, I saw the old man part his curtains to observe the direction of the wind. Since I took too much space, it was inevitable for his eyes to meet mine. We exchanged smiles. My instincts urged me to beg for help right away but I wasn't sure if I appeared trustworthy enough. I convinced myself that the rain will cease very soon. And I can still go on. It's all in the mind!

However, I could not tolerate the chills and the growing fatigue on my knee anymore. I knocked on the door and inquired if I may take refuge from the hellish rain. He readily agreed even if I was just about to explain my knee sprain. I didn't wait to be asked to be seated anymore. I claimed the nearest monobloc chair I saw and placed my waterproof bag on the other. Amidst my sighs of relief, I managed to inform him why I badly needed a seat. NOW I can update my Facebook, Plurk and Twitter status!

From my vantage point, I saw the entry of water to the main door and the exit door. He said it was the first time such thing happened and blamed the recent road construction for such instant flood. By the time his wife arrived, the rain remained unabated and the water pushed its way inside the house. She even asked me to move from the monobloc chair to the couch so I could stretch my poor legs and feel better.

After I had declared my whereabouts for my contacts on the abovementioned social networking sites to know, I realized the other functions of my phone. I sent messages to my parents that I was stranded and an old couple let me in for the meantime. To my surprise, they responded with a call to locate me so they can pick me up. That's when I realized I need a new phone. Evidently, this is NOT for emergency cases! I've dropped mine countless times already to the point that I have to put my callers on speaker phone so I can hear them. All the time! When I drop them again, the phone is reduced to Lego bricks. Except that they're far from cute.

Just like an answered prayer, both my parents appeared outside my temporary igloo for tonight and showered the old man with words of gratitude. I felt tears of joy well up in my eyes before I thanked him for the nth time. It was such a reassuring moment to see my parents and the spoiled furball rescue me.

Now that I'm in the warm comfort of home, I felt sorry for the indoor pool I left behind and the inability to assist them move pieces of furniture earlier. Someday, I will be able to swing by and express my gratitude one more time. Thank God for kind souls!

PROWL

2011-02-18T02:53:00.000-08:00

TITLE: PROWL
TAMBUCHO TALE #: 36
DESTINATION: BACLARAN
TRT: 20 MINS

I was attending the Roque-Amoroso wedding in the Village Patio that early evening. However, I had a very early call time at my friend's salon in Kamias that morning.

I was in a daze during the moderately quick trip to Baclaran from Talaba except for the momentary interruption when the passenger seated next to me reminded the bus conductor about his change. The latter asked for his destination yet the guy in black sando reacted he gave P100 bill. The conductor didn't seem to mind and just repeated his question. After a pause, he finally answered he's bound to Pedro Gil. The conductor continued, "Galing ka ng Naic, diba?" My seatmate nodded.

The next thing I knew, he turned to me and asked for my mobile number. I gave him a shocked look. That's it? Asking for my digits as if it were as normal as asking for the time? He echoed his all-important inquiry. I shook my head. He turned to the window as casually as he did when he attempted to obtain my contact information.

I was relieved that my bus stop was just less than 5 minutes away. That was downright uncomfortable.

That's just weird. Sure, he probably had reasons to be attracted to my fresh aura in low-cut brown blouse, plaid shorts, slightly wet hair and Kama sutra scent. And I was grateful for the unexpected ego boost.

But the romantic sap in me was hoping for some sort of engaging verbal foreplay like what I have experienced here. Or something insane like getting involved in a stare down to a fellow passenger while being surrounded by distracting noise and the manic crowd fighting for space. Then the guy would wordlessly hand over his phone so you can type in your digits. Then he'd wait for you to exit the train amidst the sea of commuters and invite you to a coffee date. Assuming that's possible between two straight people, of course.

It was Valentine's Day eve and, yeah, love must be in the air. But if he really wanted to score a date, he could have at least done something else. Or asked somebody else.

BUS BLAST

2011-01-28T01:34:00.000-08:00

TITLE: BUS BLAST
TAMBUCHO TALE #: 35
DESTINATION: AYALA AVE.
TRT: 40 MINS.

As if last year's hostage drama that catapulted the entire nation to worldwide scrutiny and the parade of carjacking-related murders that started this year were not enough, here comes the recent bus blast that claimed 4 innocent lives. And the world laments in unison, "Scary times!"

Photo from The Peninsula.

See, I know what it's like to be too traumatized to use public transport after what I have endured before. But it really crushed me to hear fellow Filipinos react that they're hesitant to come back to the inevitable carnage that awaits them here or they do not want to take a bus again for potential bombings, the cabs for potential hold-ups or overcharging hell, the MRT for its price hike and the likes.

That night, I took a bus. As I have affirmed here, I believe in the kindness among us. And I prayed for the departed souls, the loved ones they left behind, the survivors whose lives will be forever marred by this terrorist act, for the authorities to remain fueled in their investigation, for the entire nation to heal and, lastly, for the mastermind/s and the henchmen.

You may argue it's easy for me to say, considering I have no lost limbs nor loved ones resulting to this violent act. But that's exactly how I managed to lift my hands and offer a prayer. And that's exactly why I'm blogging about this, I wish to encourage everyone to do the same. I wish for us to heal.

"All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing." - Edward Burke

I also hope we would join hands and act on the survivors' needs and plot preventive measures for everybody's security. Let's not tolerate the explosion, let's not let the suspects get away with this and let's not blame the government for their struggle to solve it. There's something we can do somewhere. Let's do our part.

OPLAN ISNABERONG TAXI

2011-01-23T05:02:00.000-08:00

TITLE: OPLAN ISNABERONG TAXI
TAMBUCHO TALE #: 34
DESTINATION: VALERO, MAKATI
TRT: 15 MINUTES

Hearing about Oplan Isnabero was a relief. At last, passengers have the power to get back at the choosy cabbies! I'm rubbing my hands together in Satanic glee here.

Commuting to work during the New Year's eve proved to be difficult. My usual one-bus-ride-to-work route had to reconsidered; Erjohn & Almark buses seemed to observe the holidays. When I reached Baclaran, I went looking for a cab. And so did about 20 more passengers. The competition was stiff!

The first cabbie was fully aware of how he can take advantage of the situation. He charged me P100 for a ride to Valero, Makati that typically cost me around P80. He declined to use the meter, too. What a jerk!

After a couple more minutes of waiting, an angel appeared in front of me and readily nodded when I declared my destination. Inexplicably happy for this, I even initiated a small talk and admired his intention to welcome 2011 with his family then go back on his hunt for passengers during the wee hours. He foresaw a great number of party-goers and call center employees that would need a ride home.

While we were engaged in this conversation, I sent my complaint against the former cabbie to the hotline. I sent this message:

Hi, I would like to report TXH 162. The cab driver charged P100 for a ride from Baclaran to Valero, Makati. He refused to use the meter.

When I arrived safely in front of my office building, I paid him P150 for a ride that only amounted to P90. He seemed shocked for this random act of generosity and I know I felt doubly happier than he did. Should the hotline be limited to complaints alone? I wasn't sure but I went ahead and sent them a kudos message that said:

Hi, I would like to commend the TWW 401 cabbie. He didn't set the cost for the ride. Thank you.

Sadly, I did NOT receive any confirmatory message stating they will reprimand the concerned cabbie and/or clarify they do not accept commendations. I'm crossing my fingers they would take time to do so.

SHUT UP

2011-01-12T18:26:00.000-08:00

TITLE: SHUT UP
TMABUCHO TALE #: 33
DESTINATION: BATANGAS ST., MAKATI
TRT: 20 MINUTES

It was Saturday morning. I logged out from last night's training in the faraway land of Eastwood at 5AM then met up with Shiela for a birthday breakfast date in Ayala Ave in Makati. Next in line? Gown fitting for Ina's vintage Filipiñana wedding. Then last-minute bazaar visit for kaftan-hunting in preparation for our team building in Boracay. Then dinner date with Fristine in Wabi-Sabi to claim my wedding invitation, among others. Yes, I'm one busy woman with loads of energy. Or so I thought!

When I bade farewell to Shiela that morning, I felt quite worn out already. Just my luck, caffeine fix was not enough. Coupled with this urge to invalidate Ina's conviction that I was consistently tardy, I hailed a cab to be transported immediately to Nono Palmos's shop even before she arrives. I wanted to be the one to open the door for her and surprise her.

However, the cosmos had other plans. In spite of the heavy traffic that should had kept my pulse racing in suspense, I felt being lulled to sleep. I jokingly told the cabbie, "Kuya, pakigising na lang ako kapag andun na tayo," then proceeded to play dead.

To my horror, he reacted: "Ma'am, 'wag po kayong matulog! Lalo kayong tataba!"

Tang inang hindot, diba?!

Beats me why he didn't come to his senses after my apparent disapproval of his quip. For some strange reason, he even felt licensed to press for more answers. His follow-up questions were: "Ilan na po anak niyo, Ma'am? Ah wala pa? May asawa na po kayo?"

By then, I was a portrait of silent wrath. Still, he paid no attention.

When the cab came into a halt, I did not bother to give him any tip and slammed the car door while he was halfway in his last attempt to establish rapport.

I was already awake.

QUEUE

2010-09-05T04:37:00.000-07:00

TITLE: QUEUE
TAMBUCHO TALE #: 32
DESTINATION: MRT-TAFT
TRT: 30 MINUTES

After spending the weekend at Donna’s place in Faaarview for nursing my chest pains and fever (that won’t happen) after our breast cancer awareness gig, I was quite eager to go home to the South that Sunday evening. I stunk!

My friend Danna and I took the MRT route. While we were in the elevator in MRT-North Ave, there was this middle-aged foreigner who suddenly asked if this were the way to Makati. Danna and I nodded in response to his question probably addressed to all passengers inside. In recollection, it was a stupid question as North Ave is the last North-bound station. All cars in MRT-North Ave will definitely be South-bound and will drop by Makati.

As soon as we came out, Danna and I dashed for the exact change booth. We had a feeling the last ride to the South was at hand. We were at the rear of the line when we saw the foreigner guy head for the cashier of the same booth and provide his payment. How appalling!

To my disappointment, the cashier assisted the singit right after the woman who came in first. She did not bother to remind him that they, as a public transport system, observe queue lines and he had to do the same thing. She just stared daggers at him after he’s turned his back to head for the turnstiles. What good can THAT do? Wasn’t she the perfect person to reprove him and do something?

HOSTAGE DRAMA

2010-08-23T17:38:00.000-07:00

TITLE: HOSTAGE DRAMA
TAMBUCHO TALE #: 31
DESTINATION: AYALA AVENUE
TRT: 1 HOUR 38 MINUTES

I first encountered this hostage drama in MindyTV's Facebook status yesterday morning, dismissed it as another forgettable episode and went to bed to dream of happy dreams.

Before I dashed for work, I overheard TV anchor Ted Failon interviewing the hostage-taker. He repeatedly asked the latter what exactly would cease this all then the line went dead. I had no time to probe what's going on because, as always, I was running late. I had a bus to catch.

Photo from Laarni.

Little did I know the gravity of this hostage drama when I finally saw the TV coverage on the bus around 19:30. No other news was as newsworthy: there was no split screen, no commercial breaks, no other news segment. I felt the whole nation stopped dead on their tracks to tune in. Us passengers were completely silent, horrified, frustrated and, thanks to Mike Enriquez when he called Mel Tiangco as "Weng", momentarily humored.

So Rolando Mendoza was a dismissed police officer who wants to get reinstated by taking a bunch of innocent tourists from Hong Kong as hostages. Wow. Wait, isn't his case being reviewed already by the Ombudsman?

It was disappointing to witness the joined forces of the police and SWAT (now mockingly dubbed as Sobrang Wala Akong Training, Sugod. Wait. Atras. Tago!., among others) display incompetence (ex. overlooking the emergency exit) and cowardice (ex. taking 45 minutes, as per CNN, to get rid of the entrance door) to gun down one of their kind.

Photo source here.

When I landed in Libertad, I was doubly alert for and eager to hail the first LRT-Ayala bus to pass by. It's almost not about punctuality at work anymore; please let me know what's going on. Fortunately, the next bus was also tuned in but, due to the heavy rainfall, we initially had poor reception. I missed the part where the bus driver miraculously managed to break free and declared all passengers were already lifeless. Soon enough, the exchange of bullets took place, resulting to the actual demise of the poor victims. Apparently, the hostage-taker was also tuned in to the news, patiently waiting for the next clues.

By this time, I've reached my bus stop and braved the downpour. However, some stupid taxi driver sped by in front of me, throwing a huge amount of possibly dirty water on my tube dress and doll shoes. The long parade of vehicles made me ran back for cover. When the coast was clear, I ran as rapid as I could. I was grateful I didn't slip and fall headfirst or something. The sooner I reach the office, the better. It was getting too cold.

When I had my turn to log in, the biometrics won't even take my fingerprint. I didn't have any dry fabric to press on - my clothes, bag, handkerchief were like sponges. After a couple more attempts to log in, it went through. It was 20:38. So I was soaking wet, dehydrated, impatient for my turn for the dryer and aching to see the happy ending of this drama for the next 30 long minutes.

When I emerged from the comfort room around 21:10, the pantry was filled with equally concerned employees, tuned in to the coverage. To my shock, there was no mineral water available from both water dispensers that time. To my relief, this hair-raising incident was history.

It's about being condemned by the whole world in the present.

UNLUCKY

2010-08-19T19:29:00.000-07:00

TITLE: UNLUCKY
TAMBUCHO TALE #: 30
DESTINATION: AYALA AVENUE
TRT: 30 MINS

For the nth time, this newbie was running late. The nerve, no?

The series of unfortunate events started when a fellow bus passenger from behind did an outcry upon the realization that her former seatmate stole her mobile phone. I didn't exactly hear her recollection of what happened but she mentioned the tall guy told her something and she reacted, "Bahala ka sa buhay mo!". The bus conductor was rather insensitive to this woman's issue; he'd just say "Di nga nagbayad yung tatlong iyon eh!" each time he'd go near the victim. Either that or his statement that the robbers' faces didn't register on his mind. We were rather impressed how smooth it was. He managed to fish for this well-hidden phone without even slashing the bag.

I was immediately possessed with paranoia. See, my shoulder bag's zipper was completely broken then, making my bag invitingly open for hold uppers. I was even carrying a huge amount of money that time for a major transaction the following day. Luckily, I survived the trip to my office without being harassed again or having cardiac arrest from extreme worry.

As influenced by what happened in the previous entry, I decided to take a long, brisk walk to the office. To my shock and consternation, a handful of commuters were climbing to the gate across the street. Wasn't that supposed to be unlocked as early as 20:00? It was already 20:25!

Scared of another injury, torn clothes and embarrassment that results after that, I opted to take the underpass. We all know that I'm no fast runner, especially when I was wearing a chic outfit (my batchmates said so). I was even carrying 2 bags that time, adding load to my consistently slow sprint. When I was half-way through, I caught sight of an college friend with his friends. I had no time for pleasantries, dude. Nod, nod, bye.

Then the heavens conspired to give me a heartbreaking encounter in the office. Actually, it was initially heart-racing then everything just fell apart. Sorry, kids, but I'm not yet ready to divulge what happened. Clue: crushie-related.

The ending? I logged in at 20:32. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!

WALKATHON

2010-08-17T17:33:00.000-07:00

TITLE: WALKATHON
TAMBUCHO TALE #: 29
DESTINATION: AYALA AVENUE
TRT: 30 MINS

I was running late again. By 20:00, I already accepted the fact that it's another case of tardiness. Believe me, I tried to take a cab when I reached Libertad but the absence of such prompted me to take a bus instead. I heard a tiny voice that said I just might get lucky.

So the bus was already one block away from my bus stop in Paseo. I was still hopeful I can make it. All of a sudden, the loud uproar between the People of the Philippines vs. the bus conductor knocked me out of my supposedly undivided viewing of the deceased FPJ taking a plunge to the falls wearing his signature leather jacket and denim jeans. What the hell is going on?

A large number of passengers were trying to alight in this area. The bus conductor said it's a loading area to which the passengers countered they get to get off in this area every single night. But, as far as I know, the bus stops are in Crispa (sometimes they don't allow unloading in front of RCBC) then Paseo. So I found this dispute as unreasonable, just ignored the commotion and watched how FPJ outwitted the group of goons leaded by Max Alvarado. The silence didn't last long and the passengers were clamoring for a chance to exit again. I heard one of them pinpoint that it was taking them forever to move forward, trying to sweep passengers that were not there. I fished for my phone in my shoulder bag to check the time and realized I was really late for work. Oh, well.

Much to my relief, I managed to log in by 20:28. When I went to the comfort room to rinse and moisturize my face, I recognized the angry passengers as my tenured officemates. So they actually prefer to take a walk one block away to our building instead of a shorter walk from the next bus stop? It was initially weird for me, but the succeeding turn of events made me realize I was wasting about 5 minutes for bus drivers who insist to linger and take in too many passengers. But that probably deserves another blog entry.

LANDMARKS

2010-08-16T19:23:00.000-07:00

TITLE: LANDMARKS
TAMBUCHO TALE #: 28
DESTINATION: TALABA
TRT: 20 MINS

An innocent-looking high school kid interrupted my usual Monday reveries, inquiring what's our exact location. The name of the baranggay we were in momentarily escaped me and, forgive me for saying this, I blurted out, "Nalimutan ko ang title ng lugar na ito,". When my memory finally made a comeback, I told him we're then in Aniban. His follow-up question went, "Dadaan ba tayo ng Kalinisan Road?" I said yes, we're just a couple of minutes away.

When I can already see the popular establishments in Zapote Kalinisan like Jollibee and 7-Eleven, I called his attention and pointed to Zapote Kalinisan. He was immediately thankful. Then, he asked for Zapote Kabila. I explained he can take a jeep on the right side to reach Zapote Kabila. When he name-dropped Sogo and asked for the road that leads to Las Piñas, I got confused. Sogo is in Zapote Kalinisan, it's behind 7-Eleven. The road that leads to Las Piñas, however, is Zapote Kabila. He attempted to name more establishments but he seemed to be fixated with Sogo. This, in my opinion, is quite alarming to hear from a high school kid.

Photo credit: Chicken Mafia

Anyway, he took my advice and took a jeep to Alabang to go to Zapote Kabila. When I passed by Sogo (en route to Talaba), I can't help but wonder if there were any Sogo in Zapote Kabila. I'm not really in the know when it comes to motels, you know.

For the first-timers in the south, trying to locate Zapote Kabila may get confusing. If you're in the Kalinisan area, Zapote Kabila calls for a crawl along the public market to the overpass; it is the road that leads to both sides of Las Piñas (1. Bamboo Organ to Kabihasnan & 2. Pamplona to SouthMall to Alabang). Now, if you're in THAT area, Zapote Kabila is on the other side; the one that leads to Cavite. Weird, I know.

DISCOVERY

2010-08-05T19:33:00.000-07:00

TITLE: DISCOVERY
TAMBUCHO TALE #: 27
DESTINATION: TALABA
TRT: 40 MINS

I just had a last-minute brisk walking episode with a few of my batchmates yesterday morning when I received a phone call from a former colleague, urging me to meet him. He needed my company while waiting for a nearby establishment to open and he wanted to pay me for this shampoo (yep, I'm a dealer). Walking 2 blocks from Paseo Avenue to Herrera immediately registered as a major hassle, considering my poor feet had just endured 45 minutes of action. When I realized I could use some change for my commute home and when I remembered the buses tend to speed by Stock Exchange, I shook my head and took another long walk.

Before I could enter North Park to meet him, I noticed the continuous appearances of Erjohn & Almark buses along Ayala Avenue with the signboard that reads DASMARIñAS. I suddenly remembered that sole Erjohn & Almark bus I saw the previous night whose signboard showed AYALA instead of the usual BUENDIA. I didn't take that bus, fearful of any optical illusion-related tragedies. I've had enough instances of tardiness already.

I reported the good news to Chad who echoed he saw the same Ayala-bound bus the previous night. It must be for real! We were all the more convinced it was true when we experienced the ride ourselves and got charged for only P25 for the ride. Yes, I had a pleasant smile before I fell asleep.

I normally take a bus from Ayala Ave. to Baclaran for P11, then a jeepney to Talaba (fare ranges from P13-18, depending on the driver and your willingness to argue with them) or airconditioned bus to Talaba for P25. Finally, a jeepney ride to my baranggay that amounts to P7. Sometimes, when I'm too lazy to have a 5-minute walk to my place or the sun gets too unbearable, I take a pedicab for P5. You do the math.

At the risk of sounding like an endorser, I encourage fellow Caviteños working in Makati to avail of this and save P11 daily! At this time of financial drought, news of the upcoming privatization of MRT and LRT and its proposed fare increase to P50-55, this discovery of a cheaper and sleep-conducive route is truly timely. I just hope that bus operators won't change their mind about this. Ever!

Needless to say, we Caviteños have a new favorite bus line. Hurrah to Jasper and Erjohn & Almark!

SENIOR CITIZEN

2010-07-09T22:31:00.000-07:00

TITLE: SENIOR CITIZEN
TAMBUCHO TALE #: 26
DESTINATION: BAGUIO CITY
TRT: 6.5 HOURS

I was curled up reading The New Other Woman: The Contemporary Single Women In Affairs with Married Men as soon as I boarded the bus. I just finished the segment about single women's increased opportunities for casual encounters in social settings like, ehem, travel when, to my disappointment, a senior citizen took it upon herself to sit beside me. She didn't bother to visit the ticketing office to purchase her pass, meaning someone else had the actual ticket for bus seat # 10. What if he were one sexy stranger who would make me drop this book for some "pleasant, healing and instructive" gabfest?

I heard the bus conductor argue with her that what she presented was NOT a bus ticket and that she still needed to pay for her fare. She provided her senior citizen's discount card and mumbled on her reason why it didn't have her ID photo. How lousy. I didn't like this old lady already!

For some strange reason, she felt the need to start counting her different set of bills (there's a wad of bigger bills like P500, there's another for smaller ones like P20 and there's her coins) as soon as the bus was in motion. She did this repeatedly for a total of 70 minutes! Well, she momentarily ceased to change earrings and clean her ears then went back to her favorite activity. But, wait, there's more: she slightly directed her cash near enough for my peripheral vision to capture. I can understand if she were avoiding attention from fellow passengers, but heck, all passengers were seated and sleepy. I am yet to meet a passenger who's willing to go on standing room to the highlands of Baguio! Who else was she protecting her cash from?

I got a direct order from the birthday girl to sleep away during the trip since we'd party hard until Sunday morning. Close friends know how I struggle with sleep on a daily basis. How harder can it get if I were on the road?

When my eyelids finally felt heavier, my seatmate committed this mortal sin of giving me a nudge to ask a stupid question like, "How to register for UNLITXT?" What part of my reclined posture, tightly shut peepers and hidden book you don't understand, I wanted to ask back. In attempt to appear polite in spite of my mounting rage, I simply shook my head. Technically, I really didn't know. I have long abandoned UNLITXT in favor of IMMORTALTXT, remember?

This happened again a few hours later. She asked me what time it was when she had been texting as if there were no tomorrow for the past hour! Wasn't she aware that her mobile phone shows the time? Still, I informed her it was past 13:00. I yawned for emphasis.

And the worst question with equally bad timing? "Are we there yet?" I was tempted to retort, "Second childhood, eh?" I never fell back to sleep after.

I was told here to be kind to the old folk because I'd become one someday. Try telling that to someone who has no plans to die old.

DISTANCE

2010-07-01T16:36:00.000-07:00

TITLE: DISTANCE
TAMBUCHO TALE #: 25
DESTINATION: ZAPOTE/TALABA
TRT: 15 MINS.

So we're just 500 meters away from the final stop. The jeepney driver called the attention of the 3 teenage girls seated next to me, requiring them to pay more. Turns out they only paid the minimum fare of P7.00 each for a very distant ride from SM Molino to Zapote Kalinisan. Which was stupid as my fare from the mentioned mall to San Nicolas, my own baranggay, already amounts to P10.00.

If that were not amusing enough, wait till you hear how they reacted. Little Miss Bully repeatedly asked Little Miss Kitikitxt to settle the deficit. "Bayaran mo na!" The latter was too occupied to take heed. Little Miss Henchman initially aired excuses then echoed Little Miss Bully's line in a more encouraging tone. Little Miss Kitikitxt momentarily removed the mobile phone out of her face to stare daggers at Little Miss Bully then fished for her wallet.

Little Miss Kitikitxt approached the jeepney driver and clearly stated she's only paying for herself. Since they've already reached their stop, both girls reached for their pockets and, I, the riveted chismosa, had the perfect view of the bills they had in store. Lovely!

At least the seemingly rift was over as soon as they alighted.

***

The same evening at work, I overheard the tenured specialists' discussion on how to wa-tu-tri (spell check please) successfully. The best trick, according to them, would be to sit behind the driver (NOT beside him, all right? I've tried that before and it was beyond stupid!) and hand him other passenger's pay and NEVER say "Bayad daw po!". Make sure to display ownership by saying "Bayad po!" instead. For a bad actress with weak knees like me, I won't give this a try.

As a finisher, they say it is best to say, "Para po! Thank you!". In my commuting experience, I am yet to hear passengers who enthusiastically express their gratitude for reaching their destination. Hence, I find this suggested spiel a hint to the driver and fellow passengers that you just enjoyed a free ride. But what do I know? I'm not an expert.

How about you? Have you tried faking it? Isn't it still better to just pay the fare?

BOXING

2010-06-08T18:13:00.000-07:00

TITLE: BOXING
TAMBUCHO TALE #: 24
DESTINATION: PASEO, AYALA AVE.
TRT: 30 MINS.

I'm back to the graveyard grind and, to my relief, my new workplace is still in Ayala Ave. To my excitement, I was in the area earlier than I planned to.

I was about to alight in Paseo when this guy ahead of me made an unexpected halt to hiss at the driver. He was apparently pissed that he didn't stop at Herrera, finding it necessary to ask for some fistfight. I can barely remember if the driver managed to explain the bus stops and say "Ganito kami sa Makati!" as the other passengers behind me generously expressed their disdain over the delay.

To my surprise, the driver reciprocated this with outburst of words of pissdom. I had to step back when I felt the mad man's elbow on my chest. By then, everybody was yelling all at once. The conductor asked the driver to pacify and the other passengers asked him to ignore this drunken fool. I was on mute until I felt a shove to push me forward. I had no intention to get hurt!

By some miracle, the unhappy passenger stepped down. While the rest of the passengers dashed to their respective buildings, I took pleasure in watching what unfolded next. After all, I was 60 minutes early. He went on pounding the bus door, challenging the driver to come out for a duel. The conductor once came out to push him away. This continued until the traffic light turned green.

Shaking my head, I crossed the street to finally report to work. After a few minutes, I felt him unintentionally push me aside then saw him cause traffic for staggering along the pedestrian lane without even looking if any vehicle were on ongoing course. How classic!

Being drunk on a Monday night can be elevating but PLEASE, make sure to display exhilaration and try to spread some good vibes! But, hey, that was entertaining!

LOST

2010-05-30T04:41:00.000-07:00

TITLE: LOST
TAMBUCHO TALE #: 24
DESTINATION: EASTWOOD CITY
TRT: 10 MINS

It was my first day of work. I was expected to show up in Eastwood by 8AM. Of all places!

In spite of this helpful guide, I'm still your typical promdi who confused Megamall Building B with Building A. What's with the affinity with that FX terminal? That's where I used to line up when I was decided it's finally time to repose in my old apartment in Oranbo, Pasig.

Since I never saw any Santolan-bound FX and no fellow commuter can identify to what I was looking for, I decided to hail a cab. Besides, my second degree friend-turned-colleague Noah was already in Eastwood, cursing herself for being in the vicinity as early as 06:30AM. You could say she was very thrilled to end her 4-month bumhood. Before stepping in, I prayed the fare won't reach P100.

The R&E cabbie greeted me with a pleasant smile, asking for my destination. As usual, I forwarded the plate number to the next person I'd meet for security reasons. He repeated if we're heading to Eastwood, narrating how one passenger from Makati confirmed she's headed to Eastwood but, upon reaching Libis, she clarified she needed to be in KINGSWOOD. Mind you, she was very sober, awake and responsive to his small talk. Does she have 20-20 vision? I wouldn't know.

Manong went on. He had another passenger from Caloocan, asking to be driven to Quirino. When they made it to Malate, he said he's referring to Quirino in Parañaque! Manong said there are 4 Quirinos: Malate, Parañaque, Novaliches and somewhere else. What's the first Quirino that comes to mind?

The best story would have to this certain mother who left her 6-year-old slumbering kid in the cab. The driver didn't leave the mall area until this passenger returns to claim what she lost. However, instead of thank yous, the driver earned an earful.

Manong was introducing an OFW passenger who assumed he knew the airport terminals very well. After losing on the debate about the best route to take, the passenger gave him a P1,000 tip on top of his bill. He was that grateful he made it for his flight. By that time, I could hardly concentrate anymore. The bill was almost P70 and I was already trying to review cheap options for lunch. I only had P300 in my pocket for that day!

Luckily, the vehicle eventually came into a halt. I paid him exactly P75 and thanked him for his amusing stories. Too bad I can't give him any tip.

***

I found an equally amusing tale about a certain selfless cab driver. Jamir Ocampo posted on Facebook:

Kitang-kita namin ni Manong taxi driver kung paano binunggo ng pulang Corolla ang Pajero sa bandang Krus na Ligas, ang masama kumaripas palayo ang Corolla para matakasan ang areglo, palibhasa babae ang driver ng nabunggong Pajero.

“Teka lang haharangin ko lang tong gagong to,” ang sabi ni Manong. Hindi alintana kung sinuman ang driver ng pulang Corolla, nakipagkarerahan si Manong (takot ko lang dahil overspeeding na kami) hanggang tuluyan na nyang naharang sa Katipunan ang pulang Corolla.

Nang maabutan ng Pajero ang bumunggo sa kanya, iniwan na namin sila mag-areglo. "Pangalawang beses ko nang nagawa to," humahagikgik na sambit ni Manong.

Ang ganda ng hapon. Saya maging Pinoy.

Photo and text by Jamir Ocampo.

PILLOWS

2010-05-26T08:45:00.000-07:00

TITLE: PILLOWS
TAMBUCHO TALE #: 23
DESTINATION: SUCAT
TRT: 20 MINS.

Imagine this: From Bacoor to Sucat to Quezon City to Baclaran to Cavite City to Bacoor. That was my itinerary for the day. It was all business, except for my last stop: a high school friend's birthday dinner in Bacoor.

Before I got to ascend the jeepney bound to Sucat, I recognized the long-haired passenger seated on the right side of the vehicle. I deliberately took the vacant spot across her. [Some people prefer to sit next to their friends but I find it easier to communicate when you are sitting face to face.] I saw her caught sight of me while I remove my laptop back on my back, making me thrilled for the major gabfest that was about to take place.

When I turned my head back to greet her, I found her slightly shifted to the opposite direction. Her arm slightly concealed her face and her eyes were suddenly squeezed shut. She was pretending to be asleep!

It was unbelievable! We've been good friends for the longest time. I'd say we haven't spoken let alone exchange text messages for almost a decade! What went wrong?

I fought the urge to toss the laptop bag before me to wake her up. But then again, mahirap manggising ng isang taong nagtutulug-tulugan. If she did not want to catch up with me, then I wouldn't force her.

I saw her open her eyes a couple of minutes later. Still, she avoided my gaze. By that time, I already gave up. Kung ayaw mo, edi wag!

I watched her alight from the jeepney and move towards the entrance of SM Sucat. I bet she did not even look back to make sure if I were watching.

OVERLOAD

2010-05-24T05:32:00.002-07:00

TITLE: OVERLOAD
TAMBUCHO TALE #: 22
DESTINATION: AGORA MARKET, CAGAYAN DE ORO
TRT: 2 GODDAAMN HOURS

Some blog entries really take a year to be completed. Anything infuriating becomes comical over time, right?

With heavy hearts, our party of four took the first ferry to leave Camiguin Island and dashed to Balingonan Port in Misamis Oriental. It was still early but we were in a hurry. We had confirmed to go whitewater rafting and asked to be picked up by noon. But before we can get wet and wild, we had to find a refuge!

Upon arrival in the bus terminal, we were portraits of disbelief that there were no airconditioned bus waiting for us. This transformed into restlessness when the wait stretched longer than we hoped. When about two ordinary buses had pulled in, we exchanged worried looks and practically ran to get on board. Ordinary buses are always on the fast lane, right?

Or so we thought.

Much to my annoyance, the driver loved to take his sweet time by doing quick stops every single opportunity he saw to draw in passengers. I actually fell asleep for roughly twenty minutes and, judging by the road signs along the way, we did not cover much distance. To top it off, I saw an airconditoned bus did an overtake. Thank you for your patience, it says.

Photos by Danna Ah.

I may be unable to understand the vernacular but I noticed that everyone was talking angrily all at the same time. It seemed they were also clamoring for some speed.

The funny thing was (NOW it's funny), the driver still insisted to pick up EVERY potential passenger along the road in spite of what the photos above convey. He was apparently trying to piss us all off!

Needless to say, our bunch arrived in the Agora Market by noon and asked our contact to defer the pick up to 13:00. This tamagochi had to make reservations and, most importantly, appease my hunger. I was too weak to injure the driver. That lucky bastard!

CORY AQUINO

2009-08-05T02:05:00.000-07:00

TITLE: CORY AQUINO
TAMBUCHO TALE #: 21
DESTINATION: MRT-AYALA
TRT: 10 MINS.

It was my second day at new work. I missed the necrological services for the former President Cory Aquino that day. Thank God for Twitter updates that I receive via text. Needless to say, I was very eager to come home.

I took the MRT from Shangri La station. Some guy offered me a seat, probably after seeing my immobilizer. [Typically, they don't.] When I was finally seated, a middle-aged woman nearly stepped on my outstretched leg. Good thing her friend took notice and warned her of the, errr, hump ahead. She apologized for something that never happened and I nodded to convey it was fine.

Then she started to recount how her grandchild asked her,

"Who's Cory Aquino?" She answered, "Yung nanay ni Kris Aquino,".

The child reacted, "Aaaah. Kilala ko si Kris Aquino, pero si Cory, hindi.". She repeated this story 2 more times.

I waited. I waited for her to go on. Cory Aquino was more than a mother to a TV personality, wasn't she? Sadly, she didn't provide any other explanation who Cory Aquino was. I was very appalled she had to stop at "Kris Aquino's mother".

Old people complain that the kids today tend to forget easily. Maybe that's true for some kids, but the younger ones were just born yesterday. They need help on what to recall, you know. And stopping at "nanay ni Kris Aquino", for example, is NOT going to help. It's depriving a kid a chance to go on a time travel to 1986.

And I'm sorry for eavesdropping.

"BAGONG" BACOOR

2009-05-23T21:26:00.000-07:00

TITLE: "BAGONG" BACOOR
TAMBUCHO TALE #: 20
DESTINATION: LIBERTAD
TRT: 20 MINS.

It was already 18:00 and I was running late again. (I've changed shifts from 21:30 to 19:30). The sight of the busy rotonda temporarily converted to a one-way street was not assuring. Traffic enforcers are fond of doing this "buhos" system, much to my annoyance.

When it was already 18:20 and the Cavite-bound vehicles continued to enjoy the go signal, my blood started to boil. There's no chance I'd log in on time! Fellow commuters echoed my "tsks" but they remained passive. I, however, was ready to explode. The nearest traffic enforcer was about 2.5 feet away, wearing his yellow-and-blue uniform that screamed BAGONG BACOOR. That probably aggravated me. Is this the town claiming they're damn ready for cityhood?!

I approached him and inquired, "Kuya, baka naman pwedeng magpadaan na kayo dito?", gesturing for the Lawton- and Baclaran-bound vehicles to have their chance. I was not sure if my tone was even friendly.

He reacted, "Maghintay kayo. Inaayos na nga namin eh. Wag kayong makialam!" Then he went on murmuring something that sounded inaudible against the parade of cars.

I got more pissed. Incompetence coupled with attitude problem, that's a Bagong Bacoor traffic enforcer for you! It took me another 5 minutes before I could take a bus.

2 days later, I was on FX on a different route (to Libertad via Niog). The traffic was smooth sailing until we reached the F.E. de Castro intersection. The sight of the yellow-and-blue BAGONG BACOOR uniform turned my eyes into tiny slits. Here we go again. I overheard a fellow passenger recount her waiting-in-vain moment in the same spot a few days ago with her friend. I stared at my wristwatch. It took 15 minutes of hardcore daydreaming to survive the long wait.

When we finally get past that major hurdle, I heard the passenger across me say, "Ang tatanga talaga ng mga 'yan! Pinagsabay tayo at 'yung mga papasok ng de Castro," I couldn't agree more.

DELAY

2008-05-11T19:35:00.000-07:00

TITLE: DELAY
TAMBUCHO TALE #: 19

DESTINATION: VIGAN CITY

TRT: AROUND 8 HOURS

My friend Carol and I had just paid our de luxe bus tickets to Vigan in the Partas Bus Terminal in Cubao and we were in for that frustrating act of waiting. It was past 18:00 and, according to the woman in the Information booth, the passengers can hop in by 18:50 and the bus would leave by 19:00.

But my mind was somewhere else. If it were going to be a 10-hour trip, we would absolutely experience hunger along the way! The chips we brought would not be a sufficient replacement for good, hot dinner. I was aware there would be stopovers but I never achieved satisfactory eating experience out of those. I typically spend them for bladder breaks and, with the duration of the trip, I imagine to use it for serious stretching. I panicked at the thought.

Without saying a word to Carol, I stood up and craned my neck for any other food establishment aside from Burger Machine. I found something named ILOCANO'S CANTEEN. I nearly jumped in excitement, amazed at the timeliness of this discovery. What better way to prepare us for our trip but to try Manila-based Ilocano food? I came back, hesitated for a moment and asked her, "Gusto mong kumain? Mahaba ang byahe eh. Baka magutom tayo..." I was scared she would say she would starve herself to death or remind me of her plans to immortalize her curves in the photos with the Ilocos backdrop. To my relief, she agreed.

We exited the terminal through the entrance door. I can read, yes, but this was rather urgent. Carol might change her mind or something. Halfway crossing the street, I turned back and witnessed the inspection guy laughingly shake his head. Aren't we the same girls who entered the building from the exit door? I hate being dismissed as stupid. I'd prove him wrong when we come back!

Upon reaching the canteen, we exchanged the typical "Kaw,-kung-ano-gusto-mo-yun-na-rin-order-ko" dialogue. I surveyed the food and was disappointed not to see chicken pipian, pinakbet, poque poque and other Ilocano food. I went for sinigang na ulo; Carol asked for pusit. Being lovers of sinigang (pork sinigang in fact. But I've given up on pork. This was the first non-pork sinigang we shared ever), I deemed it appropriate to share mine. We were both impressed with the tasteful soup, moaning "Panalo!" in between sips. I tried her viand and was equally satisfied with its spiciness.

This brought us to recall our folks with Bicolano roots. My late grandfather was an excellent cook of laing. I used to wonder how he can endure making a candy out of sili. Carol's mother was also from Bicol. With the presence of the fish before us, we can imagine how would they consume it with bottomless eagerness until it becomes all bones.

Carol was done with her meal and caught sight of the de luxe bus. She wondered why the passengers were already seated inside. I dismissed it as exaggerated excitement, considering it would take us 10 hours to reach our destination. I would spend the last 15 minutes before boarding on my flat feet. I went on with my meal. But Carol displayed slight unease. I reminded her the bus leaves by 19:00. It was then only 18:20.

When we were finished, we had a predicament with the lady. We had nothing but P500 bills. Our meal was only around P100. She had no change. When we finally rummaged our pockets with P20 bills and coins, we retraced our steps to the terminal. The closer we got, the more the tension mounted and the more I realize the bus was indeed leaving!

I was still in denial the moment we reached the entrance. Carol took it upon herself to inform the inspector we are leaving for Vigan. His reaction was too surreal for me to take: we are the only passengers left! There was no time to even bitchslap the woman from the (Mis)Information booth with my puta red tabo let alone explain our side. Out of panic, we dashed to the exit (again!) to climb up the bus. We were greeted with "Sabi ko na nga ba, sila yun eh!" and "Gumala pa kasi eh!" from the driver and company.

I saw Carol beginning to react defensively with her teeth clenched. I told her to calm down. I found it pointless as we made it before they finally give up on us and the fellow passengers did not seem to harbor any resentment to us. Besides, the spacious legroom of our 23-seater bus was enough to make me ignore any negative thoughts. After all, it's a win-win situation: gastronomic nirvana and trip convenience. On to Vigan!

***

In spite of the looong road trip, I, the most sleep-deprived person on earth, did not get much snooze. Partly because I nearly drained Carol's phone battery from having porn marathon. It can not possibly be guilt as I told my parents where I was really headed (a first!). It was not the aircon either. It was tolerable, thanks to my puta red blanket.

The best way to describe it? A series of interrupted naps. I recall wishing the girl behind us would step down already so I can relocate there, stretch my legs and pretend I was sleeping on a real bed. I can not achieve that position from the one-seater.

Until that fateful moment I woke up and found most seats vacant. I hurriedly rose from my seat and aimed to lay down on the seat behind us. I nearly had a collision with a woman on an oncoming course. Next thing I knew, Carol was hissing, "Nasa Vigan na ata tayo! Di mo ba narinig ang sinabi ng babae?!" She motioned me to ask the driver. "Baka naman stopover lang ito?" she went on. (Or was it me who said so?)

My face reflected self-pride. After their accusations before we left Manila, there was NO WAY I would ask them for help! We scanned the place outside. We can read, yes, and it did read VIGAN PARTAS! Still armed with self-denial, we half-heartedly silently left the bus. It was only around 02:30! We were supposed to get there around 05:00!

At the same time, we were in disbelief that the driver and his partner did not bother to inform us. We were not expecting them to greet us with guitar playing and buko juice on hand, but a gentle nudge would had been fine. Weren't they happy to get rid of us? Have they forgotten the amount of stress we had caused them?

It was funny to be the last passengers to the truest sense of the word. In Cubao, we were the cause of delay. In Vigan, we were the last to know.

GUEST

2007-04-22T19:38:00.000-07:00

TITLE: GUEST

TAMBUCHO TALE #: 18

DESTINATION: SOMEWHERE IN DAVAO CITY

TRT: WILL GET BACK TO YOU ON THAT

Got this text message (altered to be eye-friendly) from my friend Edzelove. Of course, posted with permission. Raise your hand if you don't find this funny.

"May ginawa akong krimen! I didn't pay the jeep! It was 1 km later from the house when I realized I got no wallet! Plano ko [was] borrow from the candy stand where I'll stop pero medyo maghihintay nang matagal ang jeep non kasi magne-negotiate pa ako sa tindera. A dilemma between risking magalit mga pasahero and pagalitan ng driver, or deadma na lang. Hay sus kahiya talaga. May one guy [whom] akala ko kasamahan ko sa review uutangan ko sana, but it turns out hindi pala. Kinausap pa ako ng bagets, sus hanggang bumaba ako goodbye driver!"

After reading this, my company were completely clueless why I was on a laugh trip again. It took me a while to calm down and share it without pauses.

I'm sharing this because I had a couple of near-one two three (local term for not paying public utility jeeps) instances as of late. Yesterday, while on a jeep on my way home, I was on a mental debate if I had paid or not. I recall handing a number of coins to the driver which turns out to be the other passenger's. I'm glad I recalled this before hailing it to a stop and receive a disapproving look and curses from the driver.

Just today, I nearly forgot to pay. I was too busy text barraging everyone about my concern that I was only reminded to pay when a guy seated a few inches away handed me his payment. The driver's look on his eyes was enough to make me immediately fish for my coin purse.

Memory gap? Probably. Or a subconscious act of unwillingness to spend? More likely.

HEARTS

2007-02-16T22:52:00.000-08:00

TITLE: HEARTS
TAMBUCHO TALE #: 17
DESTINATION: BACLARAN
TRT: 30 MINS

And I'm running late again for work. This entails lesser buses, longer waiting time along Talaba. My brother Louie strongly disapproved of this new route. He finds it too dark and too dangerous. I appreciate his concern but I always shrug it off.

That night, I was on a race again with time. In spite of this, my heart only desired getting on an aircon bus. Why, you ask? I was getting sick and tired of my usual Mufasa hair-do.

Then one man popped out of nowhere and asked if there were still buses bound to Baclaran at that time. I said it would take longer than the usual to catch a bus but there were loads of jeepneys still. He seemed convinced then looked away. As if realizing he hadn't thanked me, he looked back and greeted me, "Happy Valentine's Day!". Knowing he must be unaware of my viewpoint on Valentine's, I managed to supress my eyebrows from reaching my scalp and nodded away. After all, that highly meaningless day was just less than 60 minutes away.

Perhaps he misinterpreted my gesture as an invitation for intimacy. He went ahead and inquired if I were just about to go to work. I nodded. Fear started to mount. It was almost payday and he must be on a lookout for his next call center victim. He commented it was already late then, as if I demonstrated any interest, he went on saying he was a seaman, he just came from training in Naic and blah blah blah. My dread was slowly being replaced by annoyance. As if it were not enough, he had the nerve to invite me for dinner in Jollibee and pointed somewhere I was confident no food chain stood. I turned him down politely, saying I was late for work. He rebutted I can ditch work and he'd just pay for whatever my shift amounts to. Shocked, I attempted to convince myself I was just hearing things. But he went on, delivering strings of madness my ears were not prepared for.

He introduced himself as Dante and showed me his hand to shake. Avoiding eye contact at all cost, I played mute and declined to shake his hand. He eventually realized I was not a friendly person and put down his hand. If he said something else after that, I wouldn't know. My heartbeats were deafening. Where the hell are the jeepneys when you badly need them?!

I immediately hailed the first jeepney that approached us. I didn't care if my hair would look asking for an exchange of banter anymore. I wanted to get away from him the soonest time possible. To my panic, he followed suit. I sat on the end of the jeep, behind the driver and beside the mother with a sobbing infant. I normally distance myself from kids but I didn't care anymore. I still refused to meet his eyes. I text barraged my closest friends about my ordeal. If he decided to attack me and do whatever he wanted to after, I know there would a group of people who would scour the earth for my lifeless body.

Thankfully, he didn't approach me anymore when the mother seated next to me went down and didn't dash to the same bus I did upon reaching Baclaran. What a relief!

LOUD

2006-10-14T10:32:00.000-07:00

TITLE: LOUD

TAMBUCHO TALE #: 16

DESTINATION: BACLARAN

TRT: 30 MINS.

I'm running late for work one Thursday evening. It was almost 21:00 and I still haven't decided what to wear (read: waistline issues). For the past couple of months, I have my ears subscribed to Papa Dom's reggae show over the radio, except that certain Thursday night Milenyo was in town. Unwilling to miss that night's show, I turned my phone/radio into loudspeaker mode as I went on with my quest for a decent getup.

When I finally had my Eureka moment, it was already way past 21:00. I highly doubted if I'd make it on time for work. Yes, I dashed.

It was only until 5 minutes after I hopped in the FX when I realized I failed to go on headset mode! Not because I heard myself but because I fished for my phone from my bag to send someone a text message then I saw the shocking icon of loudspeaker. Immediately turning it off, I felt guilty to be the deliverer of hardcore reggae in full blast.

Everything was a painful slow motion since that realization: My decision to turn down pedicab drivers that night for a sprint walk, my 8-minute jeepney ride to Bayanan, the understandable hesitation of fellow FX passengers to make space for me. With my hands on my flushed face, I wanted to die.

In an attempt to channel out my embarrassment, I pushed my keypad with anger and confronted my brother Louie over text for not letting me know. He stopped me before leaving as I'm wearing his LPG (League of Pogi Gentlemen) shirt, fer gawd's sake! How heartless!

But then again, I also felt bad that nobody among the people in our neighborhood or village or fellow passengers poked and admonished me for being on loudspeaker mode. I would gladly tone it down, you know.

COMEBACK

2006-10-10T00:12:00.000-07:00

TITLE: COMEBACK
TAMBUCHO TALE #: 15
DESTINATION: SAN NICOLAS
TRT: 15 MINS.

At the back of my head, it was just another tropical depression. This Milenyo might be signal # 3, but I was completely positive nothing would harm me. In fact, I stayed at the office after shift to go online and peruse my sadly forsaken inboxes. I turned down the offer for some beers. I was told it's too mahangin sa labas.

As soon as I have chosen my bus seat and snapped my earphones on both ears, I fell prey to the lullaby disguised as rock. This nirvana did not last too long; I felt my phone vibrate. It was my Mom, advising me to snooze at the office instead as Bacoor has transformed into a small town of soaring roofs (imagine the Angel of Tetanus in quest for her next victims) and she suspected I would face the inevitable deluge on my way home.

Too late. As I peered outside my window, I have realized Makati has transformed into Jumanji. The traffic is at its worst crawl. Some invisible force is uprooting trees and knocking signages down. And everyone on the bus was tense and impatient.

I managed to reach my beloved town in spite of our slow dance amidst Nature's suppressed wrath. I was down to my final jeepney ride. I was in Talaba and impatiently waiting to hail the next jeepney. Alas, the available ones were only bound to Zapote which means I had to have another jeepney to make it home. At this point, I was very unwilling to have a separate ride. As the clock ticks on, the Sogo signage just above my head is waiting to fall down and crush someone's skull. Not mine, I repeatedly whispered to myself.

Finally, my ticket to salvation arrived. A throng of people followed me climb the stairs. The sooner we got out of there, the better. The trip was more like an opportunity to view Milenyo's destructive visit. Everyone was a commentator, pointing and reacting to the flying objects outside. We welcomed the others' tales related to this tragedy. We were also glad that no flood threatened to make this heart-pumping trip all the more dangerous. I liked the part when one woman climbed down and attempted to open her umbrella to shield herself from the unspeakable powers. The people, in chorus, admonished her to drop it and brave the elements. It's fruitless and all the more fatal. It was as if we know one another for so long.

Reaching my village made me upheave a sigh of relief. Not until I noticed the pedicab driver was half my weight and realize the extent of the challenge he had to face. And not until I notice the other residents gawk in awe and suspense to the half-fastened roofs eager to break free then swiftly dart their attention to me. I felt like being watched if I'd make it alive. I felt like squeezing my eyes shut until I reach our garage but I just can't. Fortunately, the eternity finally came into a grand halt and, with all the energy that I can muster, I sprinted my way to my bed. I'm such a lucky bastard.

DOWNPOUR

2005-10-07T21:05:00.000-07:00

TITLE: DOWNPOUR

TAMBUCHO TALE #: 14

DESTINATION: UP-DILIMAN

TRT: 10 MINS (SUPPOSEDLY)

One song goes, "Rainy days and Mondays always get me down".

I plotted to go to school earlier than the usual last Monday so I can research on my term paper. Imagine my frustration upon realizing no amphibian would survive the wild forces of air and rain that early afternoon. The loud tick-tocks enslaved my soul.

After several minutes, the elements remained unfriendly. The number of bored people in the Quezon Ave. station increased. Then came the news from the MRT management: whoever stays in the premises for an hour and 15 minutes would be charged Php15.00 for overstaying!

Madness, it is.

IRATE

2005-08-21T01:33:00.000-07:00

TITLE: IRATE

TAMBUCHO TALE #: 13

DESTINATION: QUEZON AVE. STATION

TRT: 40 MINS.

For the past years, I adhered to the belief that the reminders we repeatedly hear in MRT (stored value cards and exact fare available in Booth # 1, do not step on the yellow tiles, etc.) were recorded. Man, I was wrong!

Everything was usual. The walking people, the helpful reminder to step afar from the yellow tiles and me absent-mindedly waiting for the next ride. All of a sudden, I noticed that the "recording" was being played way too often. Then it came: a reminder delivered in a higher note as if the speaker were gritting her teeth. She was very aggravated to the point she stuttered in the middle in of her sentence in extreme resentment.

I stifled a giggle.

SCAPEGOAT

2005-06-12T15:57:00.000-07:00

TITLE: SCAPEGOAT

TAMBUCHO TALE #: 12

DESTINATION: AYALA AVE.

TRT: 10 MINS.

The jeepney came to a stop in Paseo. My old building and its memories stole my consciousness for a few minutes.

The driver's angry voice brought me back to the stinking reality. "Bawal loading dito! P150 ang singil sa'kin pag nahuli ako!" Apparently, two working girls made an illegal entry to his turf.

Both assured him they made sure no uniformed man saw them. But the driver remained unwelcoming. "Bawal loading dito! Doon sa kabila!"

One of them said, "P150 per person ba? Kami na lang magbabayad,"

I did the math. In case they get caught, they'd pay the penalty fee of PhP150 + fare of P5.50. Her willingness to spend for a jeepney ride impresses me! Better yet, her optimism impresses me.

When the traffic light turned green, the driver remained immobile and, when the girls still refused to budge, yelled at the officer that he has passengers who hopped in and refused to leave in spite of his warnings.

The officer appeared indifferent, in fact I doubt if he heard the driver, yet the girls hurriedly climbed down.

MISMATCH

2005-05-30T09:09:00.000-07:00

TITLE: MISMATCH
TAMBUCHO TALE #: 11
DESTINATION: BACLARAN
TRT: 35 MINS.

I have never been that confident about my mathematical skill in my entire life until that night.

In the dark, I groped for a paper bill and passed it to the driver. The woman beside me did the same. Then the driver gave me my change of PhP70. When he didn't provide the same amount for the other woman immediately, I deducted he has no sufficient change yet.

And so the woman asked for her change at last.

The driver argued he has given her change. Of course, she fired back the change was for me and she needed her own. When he started accusing her of paying only PhP20 for the fare, I butted in. I admitted it was my mistake and reached for my wallet to fish for the PhP100 bill. I specifically asked him to give my PhP20 back. But the woman's voice was louder than mine; she's demanding him to give his change before she drops off. The driver subsequently surrendered, saying he has no change. The woman seemed unwilling to take it back since it might be "peyk".

Before I call it a ride, I asked the driver again for my PhP20. Since he was too slow to understand why I deserve it, I explained the whole thing. The annoying woman is gone so I have evrybody's attention this time. I could feel their admiration for my being composed in handling this ordeal.

My payment: 20 + 100 = 120 - 70 (change) = 50.
50 BUCKS FOR A RIDE?! THAT'S NUTS!!!

And so was he. I ended up blurting "Fine!" and walking away.

Grrrr...

CRUELTY

2005-05-15T16:26:00.000-07:00

TITLE: CRUELTY
TAMBUCHO TALE #: 10
DESTINATION: BACLARAN
TRT: 30 MINS.

The jeepney came into a halt. Nobody hopped off.

All eyes were on a trembling guy. Epileptic? I can't tell.

The driver started the engine again. Maybe to bring the poor guy and his helpless kid to the nearest hospital.

The woman beside me concluded the man is suffering from a heat stroke attack. It's understandable; the sun has been unforgivingly scorching for the past weeks. Sleeping for graveyard girls like me is like lying in a tanning bed. Except that I don't end up having a bronzed look.

The woman asked her husband to give away their bottle of ice cold mineral water. Then she instructed the victim's son to pour the water to his father's nape and have him drink the water when he's already conscious and capable of speech.

At the same time, a couple of religious women started praying for his quick recovery aloud.

When we reached Baclaran, he still resembles a possessed man. The other passengers decided it is best if they spend a few minutes inside an airconditioned establishment, say Dunkin Donuts, for awhile.

I wish I had the luxury of time to be helpful. But I reeeeeally had to dash. I'm late for work.

Since then, I made sure to bring a bottle of water or the highly celebrated C2 Green Tea while commuting. Obey your thirst, eh?

KITIKITXT

2005-05-05T21:40:00.000-07:00

TITLE: KITIKITXT
TAMBUCHO TALE #: 9
DESTINATION: BACLARAN
TRT: 20 MINS.

Confession: This entry remained a draft for 5 years until an equally depressed friend asked that dreaded question, "What if...?", a few weekends ago (read: recent pre-election liquor ban). It's 25.05.2010 today.

I was on my way to work again that evening. Suddenly, a nice-looking guy seated across initiated a small talk with me. I can hardly recall what he said and what made me react. But it felt uncomfortable knowing that the other passengers suddenly found a real-life source of entertainment. He didn't mind at all.

Eventually, the passenger seated next to me alighted. He was quick to claim the vacant seat as his new territory and our chat went on. I discovered he was 2 years younger (today, I'd call him Kiddie Meal), he hailed from Mindoro and he had a bad injury resulting from his motorcycle accident. Still, his lust for adventure remained unshakable.

He had me at "I made it to the peak of Mt. Halcon...and you can do it, too!"

Well, it's no secret how gullible I can get but his grins and manner of speech reminded me of Jack Johnson's. He was articulate and he made sure our eyes meet. So laidback, so unassuming, so...surreal! It was easy to dismiss it was nothing but a friendly conversation.

When the van reached Baclaran and we prepared to descend, he told me he's taking the same route. Since my office then was along Buendia, I needed to take a bus that will pass by LRT Ayala. His destination was in Crossing; he could take any Edsa-bound bus. Taking the same bus would just prolong his commute. My heart skipped a beat. Was he really THAT willing to extend our light dialogue?

I remember my former team leader saying you can put a guy to a test by insisting to pay for yourself and, if the guy remains firm to take care of everything after three times, he's genuinely willing to shell out for you. He passed this test! But, hey, before you start swooning over there, it was just P9. [Or was the regular fare about P7 way back in 2005?] No big deal.

One block away from my office building, we were engaged in a similar dispute again. This time, he was asking for my mobile number. He thought we'd make good text mates. The first time he did, I said no. In my head, let's see if he seriously wanted to know. The second time, he threatened to join me get off the bus until he obtained my number. With a smile, I shrugged it off, said goodbye and never looked back. He must ask one more time!

Guess what? He didn't come down.

What a fool I had been to expect something cinematic to take place!

Upon depositing my huge backpack in my locker and making sure he didn't manage to steal anything from me, I went looking for my officemate Eleanor to give her a blow-by-blow account of what just happened. When I was finished, she gave me a head-to-toe look. "You managed to attract someone even if you look like that?"

She had a point. I wasn't my usual Marimar self. Unflattering t-shirt, pang-harabas pants, my mother's sneakers and huge backpack. I wasn't even wearing any make up that time. What are the odds I would meet The One Who Got Away that night?

For the past years, I convinced myself he was too smooth so he can chat up anyone that easily. But a part of me enjoys to torture myself with what ifs. What if...what if I gave him my number?

ID

2005-05-05T21:36:00.000-07:00

TITLE: ID
TAMBUCHO TALE #: 8
DESTINATION: PASONG TAMO
TRT: 30 MINS

The guy seated next to me has left his identification card behind. He was already outside the bus when I noticed it. Upon close scrutiny, I couldn't help but take notice how innocently cute he looked. The altar boy kind of cute. The kind any older woman would love to molest.

I flipped the ID and found his guardian's number and cellphone number. An evil grin lightened up my face.

BITE

2005-03-25T18:43:00.000-08:00

TITLE: BITE
TAMBUCHO TALE #: 7
DESTINATION: AYALA AVE.
TRT: 20 MINS.

Leaving late for work (read: graveyard shift) on a Good Friday is easy to imagine. Especially when you're wearing this fitting (in more ways than one) shirt that screams KINKY.

In Baclaran, the small number of people can be divided into two: a.) passengers impatiently waiting for an Ayala-bound, air-conditioned bus or b.) dispatchers yelling at a top decibel that all roads lead to Cubao.

But before I get to position myself near to Group A, a talkative piece of turd had a sudden change of spiel and started, "Diet, miss. Diet, diet, diet. Diet ka na, miss,"

At least, he didn't call me missus.

BLUE

2005-03-18T07:53:00.000-08:00

TITLE: BLUE
TAMBUCHO TALE #: 6
DESTINATION: AYALA AVE.
TRT: 20 MINS.

Tonight is my 1st anniversary as a hold up victim. With a sentimental grin, I slipped on the same blue green top I wore when it happened.

It feels good to be alive.

EXCUSES

2005-01-23T07:39:00.000-08:00

TITLE: EXCUSES
TAMBUCHO TALE #: 5
DESTINATION: PHILCOA
TRT: 1 HOUR (?)

Do you agree that a parade of impediments always prevent you from being punctual just when you're determined to be so?

Take this one instance when my best friend crazybitch and I aimed to be on the front seats for the world premiere of Khavn de la Cruz's The Family That Eats Soil. We agreed to be in UP an hour before the screening time.

You bet. I was late.

Impediment # 1: Maniac Alert.

I forgot why I had to drop by in City Land in Makati that afternoon, but I was there. firefloss advised me to take MRT. For someone who is used to boarding it by Pasay and Ayala, I considered the entrance to the Buendia station and exit to Quezon Avenue station an adventure.

On the elevator, I saw a guy took a glimpse of my chest. That's normal.

When we emerged, I noticed he slowed down, walked beside me and fixed his eyes earnestly on mine. I blinked, but his eyes did not go elsewhere. This is worse than catching a guy staring at my chest! Feigning indifference, I groped for my mobile phone as if I just received an important call. I stopped to entertain the imaginary call, nodded to every inaudible instruction on the other end of the line and sprinted back to the opposite direction. I went down, went up, killed five more minutes and ran for the next trip.

*sighs of relief* The coast is clear.

Impediment # 2: Cashier conflict.

I was just an arm's reach away from Cashier # 1 when I noticed the commotion in front of Cashier # 2. The customer has a queue of his own. The male cashier affirmed they don't have a change for his PhP500 bill. (Mind you, I was even thinking of using the same bill before I left home. Good thing I changed my mind.) Would you believe that? It's past 17:00 on a Saturday and they don't have a change?

Since the argument is going nowhere, he decided to move to the cashier in front of me. It was already my turn when he squeezed in and demanded the female cashier to take his payment. She repeated the same spiel. The guy countered, "Eh ano 'yan? Itaas mo 'yan, diba 400 na 'yan?" My sympathy turned into shock.

The woman sharply pointed out, "Nakapila ka ba? Di naman ha!"

The heated dialogue went on.

So the woman resolved to make him wait until they raise the amount equivalent to his change. He agreed. Thank God.

Though I'm intrigued to find out how it ended, I have to dash. I'm fucking late.

BOW

2004-12-29T06:39:00.001-08:00

TITLE: BOW
TAMBUCHO TALE #: 4
DESTINATION: AYALA AVE.
TRT: 30 MINS.

At last, my seat mate got off. What a relief to take ownership of the bus seat. But this proves to be short-lived. Someone from behind wanted to share the space.

Upon moving to my left, I felt a tiny object that my previous seat mate has apparently left behind. I was about to call her attention but her distance silenced me. Light bulbs, please. FINDERS, KEEPERS!

Groping the red purse, I realized there's nothing else inside aside from the coins. Should I take it? 'Pamasahe rin 'to,' I mused. But hesitation ruled for the succeeding minutes. If I decide to leave it there, the man next to me may take it. Just then, the conductor's persuasive voice distracted my thought balloon, making my gaze dart from his figure to the driver's.

Assuming they'd tidy up the bus afterwards, I inserted the coin purse to the gap between the seat and the wall. 'Happy New Year!', I thought.

SPIDER

2004-12-17T16:29:00.000-08:00

TITLE: SPIDER
TAMBUCHO TALE #: 3
DESTINATION: BUENDIA
TRT: 1 HOUR

The greatest marketing ploy is at hand. While some kids entertain futile thoughts of Santa Claus making a back entry to hand them presents, some grown ups know it's high time to take matters into their own hands. Times are hard.

Thus my paranoia rises again from its cold grave. Being a hold up victim last March, my cranium compels me to leave my bed as early as possible, sleepy or not, than lay myself open to the horrible possibility of feeling that sickening silver pressed against my cheek again.

From Divisoria, I decided to go straight to the office for a snooze before my OT off. My legs were screaming for a massage and my eyes were dying for a shuteye. As if on cue, a scary looking man sat beside me. He was no threat until the supposedly straight crawl from Taft Avenue to Buendia made too many turns. In spite of my struggles to feign my panic, my neck continued to make unnecessary extensions along the alien route. He took notice.

At last, I caught sight of the familiar mean street of Buendia. My body language must be revealing how eager I was to get off but unsure of which unloading area is most ideal. I let my tired feet decide. When I'm just a block away from my desired spot, I felt a finger jab my jacket-protected arm from behind. I froze. Fortunately, the kid asked the driver to halt so I followed suit, my eyes closed from extreme unease as I pass by him.

I heard him hiss as I whisked away. I did not dare to look back. Besides, I had to save myself from two racing buses in front of me.

AVOIDANCE

2004-12-05T10:35:00.000-08:00

TITLE: AVOIDANCE

TAMBUCHO TALE #: 2

DESTINATION: BACLARAN

TRT: 20 MINS.

In my attempt to watch my wallet, I decided to ditch my FX/van rides to Baclaran for awhile and settle on jeepney that night. (FX/van = PhP25 or PhP30, depending on the driver; jeepney = PhP14 or PhP15, depending on the driver.) Recently, I'm getting weary of drivers reacting negatively to my PhP20 bill-and-PhP5-coin combo.

And so I hailed the first Baclaran-bound jeepney that came my way. Little did I know he has a make-her-say-keep-the-change tactic of his own.

At first, his glimpses on the mirror was tolerable. Maybe I looked attractive enough that time, with my damp hair being blown dry by polluted air and all that. When I was about to open my mouth and ask for my change, which I have a penchant of doing whenever somebody gets off so I could have his and other passengers' attention, when he gave me a piercing stare and a heart-stopping wink.

Ewww.

INTRO

2004-12-03T15:20:00.000-08:00

TITLE: INTRO

TAMBUCHO TALE #: 1
DESTINATION: NOWHERE
TRT: N/A

Have you ever wondered who came up with the brilliant idea of hailing a vehicle? I dare say it's high time we start replacing Jasmine Trias's billboards with his/hers.

This equally brilliant idea, one night, effortlessly danced in my eyes (read: tiny slits).

Being a literate citizen since age 5, I deducted the oncoming jeepney is not heading to my desired destination. So why bother establish eye contact with the driver? To my surprise, the tires came to a screeching halt in front of me. My eyes darted to the girl beside me, anticipating her to climb up. But she remained motionless. She wouldn't have extended her arm, would she?

Everything went fast. Before I could shake my head and scoff, the rejected driver revved up and slapped our faces with smoke.

Fucking bastard.