A SPEEDBOAT RIDE
(A novel by myself)
Past 2 p.m. last Wednesday (September 7) when the rain poured hard. I was kinda worried because we still have to go to Lapu-Lapu City at 4 p.m. to cover President Arroyo who will address the conference of religious leaders.
I still have two stories to write and I was pounding my computer’s keyboard nimbly just to finish even just one story before our scheduled flight. But I failed because just as I finish the second paragraph of my first story, Fred (our small but terrible capitol beat reporter, who also does extras in the Malacañang beat like me) told me that we should go. We have to leave early because the rains might have caused traffic congestion in Mandaue City, especially in the street going to the old Mandaue-Mactan bridge.
But when I was about to go out of the TF building…Gotcha! The street in front of our office is teeming with knee-deep chocolate-colored waters. In short, it’s flooded! How could we get to the marketing office (which is just a block away) where our service is waiting? We have nowhere to pass. We are wearing modest attires and we could not simply immerse in the leptospyrosis-infected waters. Eeeeewww! Bawal magkasakit (in singing tune, ala Clusivol ad)….
“Day, mag-speed boat na lang ta,” Fred jested, which I excitedly responded in affirmative (and this is where I derived the title for this blog).
But we are gifted kids, so we were able to find a way to get away from the flood—we passed by the J&J Printer’s office. Yahoo! But the problem does not just end there. And the raindrops are still falling (this is not the problem).
Of course, when we arrived at the marketing office, we searched for our vehicle. But nobody could say which car we would use and who would drive us to our destination.
Fred sent text messages to Quennie, our day desk editor, about the problem. He also looked for a photographer. He got slow response (may be because text messages take quite a time to be sent).
Quite pestered, Fred went up the marketing office and called her at the editorial office. Noticing that Fred is already fuming, Ma’am Connie (don’t know her designation) tried to help. She said no car is available except the Banat (our Bisaya tabloid) multicab, which, I think is only being used to deliver newspapers. Wow!
Left with no choice, we have to take it. The driver (I don’t know his name), tried to wipe the soaked seats of the vehicle but Fred said we would just occupy the front seat, which means three of us—the driver, Fred and I would’ve to squeeze in to be accommodated. “Fred would sit on my lap,” I joked. Fred did not laugh. He is too irked to be amused.
But just as we were about to board, Sir Boy (our GM) approached us and asked if we could drop by Ma’am Tess (our dealer) at SM City. Okay, who are we to refuse the GM’s request?
“Noy, mamasahero sa ta,” I told the driver (because our vehicle service looks like a public utility jeepney) he laughed. But Fred was still silent most of the time. May be he still recuperates from his anger.
“Paita aning sakyanana oi. Maypa nagdrive na lang ko sa akong sakyanan ani. Layo man gud…” he mumbles. “Relax lang oi, atakehon lang ka sige ugtas ana,” I was trying to appease him.
We picked up Paul near pier 5 and dropped off Ma’am Tess at SM City. When the front seat was finally vacated, the driver asked if anybody wants to sit there but Fred said: “Ing-ani na man lang ni, mag-unong na lang mi diri.” Then we sped off to Lapu-Lapu City.
In Lapu-Lapu City, we passed by a bikini bar, which advertises that they are looking for dances. Fred and Paul manifested their desires to apply. I was quick to cut their wild dreams by telling them: “Ayaw na mo pangandoy oi. Wa nay manulod unya sa bar, or if naa man gani basin makaingon pa sila, ‘Asa naman inyong dancers oi?’ kay di man mo makita. Pagngon ra ba ang suga if pasayawon mo.”
“Paita ani oi. Magsige na lang ta og ngisi ani Dong, para makita ta,” Fred retorted. Laugh…laugh…laugh. At last, the tension that was eased.
Fortunately, the traffic was mild so we were still able to sigh a relief when we arrived there with Arroyo still not around.
By the way, when I was about to get off the multi-cab, a string snared my foot, which nearly caused me to stumble. Good heavens, I was able to regain balance. I could have fallen off the cab.
At the venue of the event, national and local press people were busy with their stuffs. All rushed inside the venue of the conference when the chief executive finally arrived.
I was awed by the different personalities I saw. There was this man who dress up like he is attending a graduation program (he wears a toga?) while another wears just a “bahag.” I don’t know from what religious group or what tribes they were.
“I like his attire… Wa na siya gitugnaw? Maayo lang wa siya gipagawas sa mga bishops noh, conservative ra ba ni sila,” I whispered to Lovey (a reporter of another daily) obviously referring to the man who wears a “bahag.” Hehehehe… But of course, I know it is a gathering of all religious leaders from the 7,107 islands of the country. Everyone’s dress represents their own religion and culture.
Just less than 30 minutes after we came, Arroyo arrived. Reporters positioned themselves anywhere they feel comfortable. Religious leaders presented their statement, advocating for peace to the president.
Then the highlight of the event—president’s speech. All eyes were glued to the stage she talked about reconciling with her detractors, asking her cabinet to go back to work, charter change, peace talks, etc.
That was the finale of the whole event. But the story does not just end there… After dinner (Thanks God! We were served a sumptuous buffet dinner), we hopped into our “distinct” and not-apt-for-presidential-coverage vehicle and sped off towards Cebu City.
At the middle of the old Mandaue-Mactan Bridge, while talking about coverage and some sorts, I noticed a man in the nearby white Toyota Tamaraw Fx grinning at me. At first, I chose to ignore. May be, just somebody who wants to flirt, I thought.
But as we near the end of the bridge, I still noticed the man looking at us, grinning. Then I realized there might be something funny. And so I told the gang (There were already four of us in the multi-cab—Fred, Paul, Jasmin and I). Fred said the man was laughing at us because look, we are wearing formal attires, presidential coverage attires and we were just boarding a multi-cab. “Who cares? It simply shows that we are versatile reporters and besides, it does not make us less beautiful if we ride a multi-cab,” I quickly retorted.
I still have so many things to express but I’d rather keep them to myself (Besides, Liv is already prodding me to post this because she said this already looks/reads like a novel). Anyway, this is always part of experience. Not quite a pleasant experience, but I would like to think it is… I could have had a multi-cab, este, speedboat ride. Hehehehe…
Nota Bene: below is the product of this out-of-this-world multi-cab experience)
