I thought it was gonna be a blah saturday night......
At a leisurely pace, i took a bath then donned my old Rhett Eala top and usual summer denim micro-mini with the enthusiasm of a Brad Pitt connoisseur. No need to rush, thank God for that thoughtful person who invented Sureseats. I was gonna meet up with my high school girlfriends to watch the most-awaited movie of the summer, Troy......
The dim lights of the theater popped back on as the credits rolled. It was an amazing movie in terms of the obviously huge budget they spent on it. But being a history buff (yep, nerdy nat loved the subject back in high school), I noticed a lot of historical details that weren't consistent. The writers changed a lot of facts just to make the legendary war far more interesting and entertaining to the movie audience--and were successful at doing so--but were rather unfair to a lot of the characters. I really don't think that the Trojan War story was given the treatment it so readily deserved... but damn! Brad Pitt showed his butt more than a couple of times, and that made it all the while worth it......
Saturday night of last week, Greenbelt 2 was a ghost town. I guess everybody decided to go to the beach that weekend, coz it was packed to the brim tonight with tan-lined people. Much to the disapproval but grateful relief of my friends, I stashed away an unfair RESERVED sign and got us the only empty table at the Masas/Temple area without anybody noticing. And so began a Pajama-Ni-Lolo movie review on Troy over cheese sticks and Strong Ice......
I solitarily and briskly walked through the parking area, checking my watch and noting it was an hour and a half past my curfew. I got into my car and noticed that the left side of the car was lower than the right. I guess one of the left tires must need a little air. As soon as I drove out of the parking area, I felt that stomach-churning drop and heard that nerve-wracking sound of a magwheel on solid concrete. Damn, the tire was flatter than my junior anatomy professor's chest. I pulled over the curb, clicked on the hazard sign and hopped out of the car to see a deep gash that could've only been made by a sharp knife and a muscular arm running through almost half the circumference of my front left tire. HOW CAN SOMEONE DO SOMETHING SO CRUEL?!? I stood up and put my hands over my face with an irritated sigh. Alone at 1:30 in the morning on a dark and lonely road... without anyone to call.
I turned and leaned back on my car. Think, Nat, think. It was useless trying to call my high school friends...I knew more about changing tires than any of them did--and that's NADA. Noel's in Quezon, Cy's in Rizal, Pao's in Bataan, Eric's in Bulacan, Jon's in Italy, and Mic's in Baguio (great, it's Let's-go-out-of-town-so-we-don't-hafta-help-out-Nat Day). I couldn't very well call my Dad, being the epitome of martial law on curfews. I couldn't expect anyone to stop over... a car passed by every ten minutes but i didn't think anyone was gonna help me out. Why should they? I certainly wouldn't have. That corner had absolutely no street vendors, security guards or tambays of whose human compassion I could appeal to. Christ. I was gonna have to change it myself. I REALLY didn't want to sleep there til morning.
I called up an ex to ask for help, because I was sure he was at Greenbelt as well (he always is on Saturday night). But he wasn't answering his phone either. FUCK! I looked at the time. Thirty minutes have passed by since I drove out of the parking area. I gave up, groaned, dropped my head back onto the steering wheel, and waited for a miracle--I jumped at a knock on my window. I looked out and saw the answer to my prayer in the form of four Good Samaritans who appeared out of nowhere. Funny, I always thought God was too busy with the rest of the world to listen to the rambling prayers of a heretic. I opened the window. "Need help?" one of them asked. I could have sworn I heard a Hallellujah chorus in the background. "Yes!" I cried in relief......And so the four Good Samaritans changed my tire for the next hour...
As I drove home, now three and a half hours past my curfew, I moresely thought about the fact that the people whom I always thought would be able to help me, weren't there when I desperately needed them. I got my help from four strangers who just happened to be passing by. I knew it wasn't like my friends were aware that I needed help, but I couldn't help feeling bad anyhow. I just felt so alone, I guess. No special someone to panic and worry if I get into trouble. No significant other who would ditch whatever he was doing and rush to my rescue......I shook my head and pulled into overdrive. It was weird, but it took a flat tire for me to realize that I had to learn to do everything on my own. I can't expect anyone to ALWAYS be there for me.
ULTIMATE LESSON FOR THE NIGHT: Know how to change a friggin' flat tire (and keep a pair of jeans handy just in case you're in a skirt).
At a leisurely pace, i took a bath then donned my old Rhett Eala top and usual summer denim micro-mini with the enthusiasm of a Brad Pitt connoisseur. No need to rush, thank God for that thoughtful person who invented Sureseats. I was gonna meet up with my high school girlfriends to watch the most-awaited movie of the summer, Troy......
The dim lights of the theater popped back on as the credits rolled. It was an amazing movie in terms of the obviously huge budget they spent on it. But being a history buff (yep, nerdy nat loved the subject back in high school), I noticed a lot of historical details that weren't consistent. The writers changed a lot of facts just to make the legendary war far more interesting and entertaining to the movie audience--and were successful at doing so--but were rather unfair to a lot of the characters. I really don't think that the Trojan War story was given the treatment it so readily deserved... but damn! Brad Pitt showed his butt more than a couple of times, and that made it all the while worth it......
Saturday night of last week, Greenbelt 2 was a ghost town. I guess everybody decided to go to the beach that weekend, coz it was packed to the brim tonight with tan-lined people. Much to the disapproval but grateful relief of my friends, I stashed away an unfair RESERVED sign and got us the only empty table at the Masas/Temple area without anybody noticing. And so began a Pajama-Ni-Lolo movie review on Troy over cheese sticks and Strong Ice......
I solitarily and briskly walked through the parking area, checking my watch and noting it was an hour and a half past my curfew. I got into my car and noticed that the left side of the car was lower than the right. I guess one of the left tires must need a little air. As soon as I drove out of the parking area, I felt that stomach-churning drop and heard that nerve-wracking sound of a magwheel on solid concrete. Damn, the tire was flatter than my junior anatomy professor's chest. I pulled over the curb, clicked on the hazard sign and hopped out of the car to see a deep gash that could've only been made by a sharp knife and a muscular arm running through almost half the circumference of my front left tire. HOW CAN SOMEONE DO SOMETHING SO CRUEL?!? I stood up and put my hands over my face with an irritated sigh. Alone at 1:30 in the morning on a dark and lonely road... without anyone to call.
I turned and leaned back on my car. Think, Nat, think. It was useless trying to call my high school friends...I knew more about changing tires than any of them did--and that's NADA. Noel's in Quezon, Cy's in Rizal, Pao's in Bataan, Eric's in Bulacan, Jon's in Italy, and Mic's in Baguio (great, it's Let's-go-out-of-town-so-we-don't-hafta-help-out-Nat Day). I couldn't very well call my Dad, being the epitome of martial law on curfews. I couldn't expect anyone to stop over... a car passed by every ten minutes but i didn't think anyone was gonna help me out. Why should they? I certainly wouldn't have. That corner had absolutely no street vendors, security guards or tambays of whose human compassion I could appeal to. Christ. I was gonna have to change it myself. I REALLY didn't want to sleep there til morning.
I called up an ex to ask for help, because I was sure he was at Greenbelt as well (he always is on Saturday night). But he wasn't answering his phone either. FUCK! I looked at the time. Thirty minutes have passed by since I drove out of the parking area. I gave up, groaned, dropped my head back onto the steering wheel, and waited for a miracle--I jumped at a knock on my window. I looked out and saw the answer to my prayer in the form of four Good Samaritans who appeared out of nowhere. Funny, I always thought God was too busy with the rest of the world to listen to the rambling prayers of a heretic. I opened the window. "Need help?" one of them asked. I could have sworn I heard a Hallellujah chorus in the background. "Yes!" I cried in relief......And so the four Good Samaritans changed my tire for the next hour...
As I drove home, now three and a half hours past my curfew, I moresely thought about the fact that the people whom I always thought would be able to help me, weren't there when I desperately needed them. I got my help from four strangers who just happened to be passing by. I knew it wasn't like my friends were aware that I needed help, but I couldn't help feeling bad anyhow. I just felt so alone, I guess. No special someone to panic and worry if I get into trouble. No significant other who would ditch whatever he was doing and rush to my rescue......I shook my head and pulled into overdrive. It was weird, but it took a flat tire for me to realize that I had to learn to do everything on my own. I can't expect anyone to ALWAYS be there for me.
ULTIMATE LESSON FOR THE NIGHT: Know how to change a friggin' flat tire (and keep a pair of jeans handy just in case you're in a skirt).
1 comment:
another reason for that pair of pants coming in handy...
tsaka na yung maitnong comment. although nakakaglit yung tire slashing
http://hem.fyristorg.com/joint/limbo.jpg
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