Direction and the Lack Thereof

"sometimes, the road you walk on fades and there's no way back...
... if the road fades, then we are free to choose where to go."

-- subject headings from a previous correspondence



My Japanese girl friend graciously invited me on an Oktoberfest Friday night with her officemates at Makati Republik, which I believe is the Calle 5 version of Makati City. I couldn't resist getting out of the house so I hurriedly got prepared for the event. After all, I had been texting all my good friends for last minute plans to meet up but to no avail.

I'm so bad with directions. Turns and swerves disorient me so easily, it's an affliction I have besides my having a scrupulous conscience. Case in point for the lack thereof of an internal compass was last Friday night.

I rode the train and was supposed to unboard in Buendia, but I fell asleep during the ride and woke up exactly there, (as in THERE!) yet was too disoriented to know where I was. The door closed and all I heard was laughing in my head for missing the stop. I went down Edsa instead and rode a jeepney back to Buendia. There, I couldn't remember which jeep to ride going straight through Makati Avenue, but I recalled my friend telling me to get one that says "Buendia." And so I rode one. Dumbass. The jeep was bringing me straight home! (Hold your horses mister!) Embarrassing though it was, I had to ask the driver to give me back my fare. No, I had to PLEAD for it. Already my night was turning out brilliantly. Har har har :-/

So I got back and tried to figure out again what to ride. There were jeeps labeled LRT-Leveriza, so I took one for another interesting adventure. Horror of horrors, the jeep took me straight to Roxas Blvd! It was really funny, except that it wasn't.

I unboarded somewhere beside this cheap videoke place and made a complete U-turn to cross the other street. I walked my way to where it was well-lighted. There were hookers and trannys in the dark alleys. And then, while waiting for another ride beside Mercury Drug, this black car parked in front of me. It was my high school classmate from way back. I knew he noticed me (and I knew the gods wanted me to look like a call boy) so I hid among the shadows like I did in '97. His dad owns this hooker place somewhere in the vicinity. I'm not kidding. It made me wonder who the woman he was with and what her business was going to a drug store at night. Clap? Herpes? Yeast infections? I had the burning sensation to approach him and ask, but I was running late already.

I asked the security guard what to ride, he answered, "Kahit ano dyan." Ride any of those. If there's one tip I can give ye metropolitan commuters, it's to NEVER ASK SECURITY GUARDS DIRECTIONS. They're as inept with those internal compasses as I am. They never know anything when you need something badly.

I finally had the smarts to ask a jeepney driver who told me the magic word -- GUADALUPE. Alas, a miracle from the Mother Mary of Mexico. I was relieved. ANd hence, I had learned through thorough experience, that prayer works for the poor, the lost, and the tragically beautiful.

There's nothing else to know about the night except that I had a swell time sitting on the shaky bamboo seats eating greasy cheese sticks and calamari while listening to this woman lazily sing popular senti songs from the late '90's. That and my unexpected phone call from a lonely friend all the way from Ontario. I almost felt guilty I was having so much fun.

But hey, we've all chosen our paths, some more carelessly than others I suppose, and it's all a matter of hanging on and following through.