07B and Fabulous Nails

Guess what happened on my 07B ride today. and by today I mean Jan 26 because I will post this way, way later. So many blog ideas, so little time

I was waiting for the jeep to arrive and it was very hot. It was noon and I was commuting from Maria Paloma to Guadalupe. When the faded yellow 07B finally arrived, empty because it was the terminus of the jeep route, I immediately hopped on to front seat. I like to sit there because a lot of jeeps have mirrors so I can check if my face hasn’t fallen off or anything. Also because mirrors make narcissists happy.

Anyway, the jeep rode on to its usual route and my eyes wandered to the street, my reflection, the trees, people trying to catch the jeep, my reflection again, the drivers feet,…

…the drivers feet.

It had nail art on it. Angry birds nail art. The red bird. It wasn’t some cheap, ready-made, stick-on nails too. I can tell somebody actually took the effort to hand-paint them to those nails. I was like…

because I couldn't be bothered to draw my own illustration

His feet in general were pretty neat too. I’m used to seeing jeep drivers just have greasy, dust-smeared feet with long unkempt toenails and cracked calluses on the soles. This guy’s feet were relatively dainty in comparison. The nails were trimmed, and it looked like he had just washed his feet. With soap!

Keep in mind, this jeepney driver was the stereotypical macho man. You know the type. Blue collar salt-of-the earth family man with shaved head and manly stubble-beard. Stocky, beer-influenced build. He looked like he could break me in two with his pinkie toe. His fabulous angry birds pinkie toe.

Oh gods, just remembering my reaction to those nails.

Anyway, he must have felt self conscious with my fat face staring at his pedicure. So what did he do? He changed from his flip-flops into his trendy slip-on shoes. Vans shoes, because he’s fabulous like that.

-o-

This post was brought to you by Stacey’s concert and an ominous organ.

12L: Sticky and Daring

2012, easing my way back into blogging. Starting with something light and easy. Must find a way to write in complete, non-contracted sentences.

-o-

So last year there was this thing that happened once where I was on my way back home from Ayala. I was browsing books, I believe, and by the time that I went off to commute, it was rush hour. Naturally, the queue to the 12L was lightyears long, so I had to wait quite a bit to get on a jeep.

The wait was almost over when the first thingy happened. You know how annoying it is when the jeep is full but the conductor still wants to stuff one more person in, especially when you know you will be included in the batch of people to ride the next jeep. It was one of those moments, and people started to grumble.

Salvation was delivered to us from a very unlikely angel. A girl volunteered to ride the packed 12L so that the next 12L could be used. However, where normally I would feel relief at this point, I had other thoughts. The girl was chubby, and you could tell there was very little space left on the full jeep. I swear, everybody in the queue stared as she walked into the jeep in much the same way probably that his students stared at Socrates as he drank the hemlock. We were stunned at her amazing feat of confidence for volunteering to go.

Anyway, the second thing happened when I got on the next 12L. The guy on my left just extended his arm over the backrest on the jeep, so that he essentialy had that arm over my shoulder and that of the girl on my right. I got the brunt of it though, because to make matters worse, he faced towards his right. Towards me. With his stupid face three to four inches from my head and breathing down my neck. And I couldn’t move away because the jeep was packed. I’m sure this has happened to everybody at least once, but Gaaah! Personal space, dude.

-o-

This blog post was brought to you by a tuna sandwich, my unfinished short story about taxidermy, and a wooden stick.

(I’m trying to make this a thing where my blog posts are “brought to you by” random bits of things that happened to me on the day I wrote those posts.)

07B and being tickled by an infant

There was this thing that happened to me today as I was coming home on a 07B. I don’t know when I’ll post this but I’ve written this on Nov 9, immediately after I got home from said ride.

I took the 07B on the Jollibee in Guadalupe, and I sat near the front of the jeep. I noticed as I sat that the person on the other side of the jeep was a UPian, an acquaintance called Jason who was friends with my sister. We said hi and made a little small talk, but that was it.

Then, disaster struck.

The jeep was pretty packed, siksikan, and woman on my left was carrying her baby. Suddenly, her baby’s arm slipped under the arm she was carrying it with, and it now stuck out between me and her, brushing up against my side.

Those who know me from school know that I am the lord of all ticklish people. Even the mere threat of tickling is enough to tickle me, so you can imagine the turmoil I was in as the baby’s arm kept wriggling on my side. I squirmed in my seat, tried to use my hand to block the baby arm, and I can only imagine what my face looked like to Jason and the other people in the jeep as tried not to grin in gargalesthesia (laugh-out-loud tickle reaction).

Fortunately, after a while, some people left the jeep, so I could move away from the dreaded tickle-appendage. However, for the rest of the ride, I had to look outside the window in shame from all the grinning and squirming.

07B and too-short pants

A week ago I had a laundry crisis. All my nice pants were still drying since the rains during that time were making them impossible to dry off quickly. I didn’t want to wear shorts because I was going off to “work” at Guadalupe.

Unfortunately, the best pair that I had left was this old gray hand-me-down from my sister. The cut itself was okay, it was unisex, but the dimensions were different, so the pant legs were too short. Since I had no choice, I wore them and took the 07B to Jolibee Guadalupe.

something like this...

On my way there, I was worried that the pants might be too noticeably short and I would look like an idiot. More than I already do. My socks might start to glitter and I’d have to moonwalk to the tune of Billie Jean. It kept bugging me until I noticed the guy I was sitting beside with.

He was wearing his nursing uniform, and he was pretty buff and tough looking. The effect was only ruined by his wee little pants. He was wearing the same length of pants as I am. That made me grin like an idiot to myself for a minute of so.

Jeep lol

Last Tuesday I had this rather amusing experience while riding a jeep.

So I was sitting there, riding the 06H from Guadalupe to Ayala when I noticed that the driver was slightly deaf. There was no conductor so people had to tell the guy repeatedly where they were going and how many seats did they pay for. As in asa munaog, pila’y plitihan. It was a source of minor annoyance to the passengers and they were smiling sardonically and making eye contact to each other in that universal “jeez, can you believe this [insert unspecified service provider]?” look that people give each other when they’re being served poorly at queues, or in this case, riding a bad jeep.

Sometime while we were at the bridge near capitol, one particular guy from the end of the jeep (near the “doorway”) gave his fare to the driver and told him where he was going.

let's say it was this guy

It was a 20 so the driver had to give the change. Of course, the driver missed what the guy said, so later as we were at Cebu Doc already, the driver asked pila’y ipliti for the 20 and where it was going. The guy, nga utro sad wa gabantay, had his earphones on and was staring aimlessly at the windows so he didn’t hear the question.

something like this, but with a crowded jeep

It was really bothering me too because every so often, the driver would ask the question again and he still didn’t take notice. I was kind of midway between the two of them, so after the umpteenth repitition by the driver – and we were already at Escario Church at this point – I decided to intervene. I told the guy “Ang baynti daw“.

And the guy heard me. He took off his earphones. I seem to recall that I said “Ang baynti daw” again. Disturbed from his thoughts and distracted for a second, his only reply was…

“Uh. Oo. Akoa na.”

.

Unya kung imo na? Instead of telling the driver where he wanted to be dropped off and that the fare was only for one person, why not just tell him that the 20 is yours?

So my eyes went wide for a bit. I had to turn and face the other direction to hide my evil laugh.

Luckily, the driver asked again and the guy told him he was dropping off at Golden Peak, so I didn’t have to worry for too long about him seeing me laughing. :P