Happy Meal | Calamares Blues

Minsan isang hapon, naglalakad ako sa tapat ng PGH matapos bisitahin si Phanks sa kanyang opisina. Palibhasa'y gutom at kagagaling lang sa pagy-gym, tantiyado ko na hindi ako aabot ng hapunan nang hindi naglalagay ng anumang sustansya sa sikmura.

Patuloy ako sa paglalakad. Sa mga oras na iyon, naglalaban na sa aking utak kung ako ba ay kakain o patuloy na magtitiis ng gutom. Hindi naman ako salat sa pera ng mga panahong iyon. Ang Wendys at Jollibee ay tanaw ko na mula sa aking kinatatayuan. Ilang hakbang rin lang mula sa akin ay ang Buena Bonita Burgers kung saan sa halagang 32 pesos eh makakabili na ako ng two-in-one cheeseburger.

"Shit nami-miss ko na ang burger nila," bulong ko sa aking sarili habang nakatulala sa mga burgers na nakasalansan sa harap ng burner.

"Maraming calories yan tungek!" bawi sa akin ng aking utak.

"Pero paano naman ako, puro hanging na lang ang nasa loob ko?" Sabay hirit sa akin ng aking sikmura.

Pagtingin ko sa aking kanan, nasa harap ko lang pala ang Gary's Restaurant. Natatandaan ko pa na kapag meron akong extrang pera ay dito ko nililibre si Phanks ng hapunan. Paborito nga namin yung Lechon Macau nila eh. Lagi nila itong sineserve sa isang bowl na may kasamang kanin, ilang piraso ng lechon kawali, carrots at radish sticks sabay lulunurin ito sa malapot na brown sauce na pagkatamis-tamis. Sa mga oras na iyon, ang temptasyon na mag heavy meal ay unti-unting nagco-corrupt sa utak ko.

"Disiplina! Disiplina sabe eh!" Protesta ng aking utak.

"Kompromiso tayo," kabig naman ng aking tiyan.

Kaya ang resulta, kumain rin ako bago umuwi ng bahay. Yun nga lang, napagkasunduan ng aking utak, tiyan at nagmama-asim na bulsa na happy meal ang trip kong meryenda ng hapong iyon.

Sa halagang trenta'y dos pesos, nabusog ako sa dalawang cheeseburger na binili ko sa Buena Bonita Burgers. Namimiss ko na kasing kumain dito lalo na't nagsara na yung kiosk nila sa may kanto namin. Ngunit hindi rin ako nakuntento dito. Matapos maglakad ng ilang metro, natiyempuhan ko si manong sa may panulukan ng Taft at (put the name of street here) na naglalako malutong at katakam-takam na fried calamares. Malalaki kasi ang hiwa ng mga pusit kaya't madali akong naenganyong tumuhog ng ilang piraso.

Sa halagang dose pesos, nakatuhog ako ng apat na piraso. Matapos itong i-dunk sa sukang puno ng naglulutangang sibuyas at sili, pakiramdam ko'y hindi ko na kailangang maghapunan sa sobrang kabusugan. Badtrip nga eh, hindi ko nakitang may sili palang nakasingit sa galamay ng pusit na kinakain ko. Napaso tuloy ang dila ko. Sa kamalasan, wala pa namang malapit na bilihan ng tubig sa lugar na iyon.

Sa bawat pagnguya ng calamares, unti-unti kong narealize na maari pala ito maging alternatibong pagkain sa mga taong nagtitipid sa pera. Nalaman ko ito nang sa paglingon ko sa aking paligid, hindi lang pala ako nag-iisa sa pagpakyaw sa calamares ni manong; naroon si Mang Jani, na mukhang iniwan lang ang mop sa tabi ng kalsada, pati na rin si Mister Salesman na buong maghapon na yata nag-iikot sa Ermita makabenta lang ng car insurance ng kanyang munting kumpanya. Imagine, sa halagang anim na piso, meron ka nang dalawang pirasong pusit. Bumili ka lang ng dalawang tasang kanin sa pinakamalapit na karinderya at tiyak solb na ang happy meal mo. Kung bitin ka pa, nasa tabi lang si manong pinyahan at ang kanyang sampung pisong kalahating pinya.

Eh nabitin ako sa burgers at calamares, tuloy nauwi ako sa pagbili sa kalahating piraso ng pinya para pantunaw ng mga toxins.

Natapos ang hapon at sa wakas ako rin ay nabusog. Sa aking pag-uwi, baon ko ang experience ng pagkain sa kanto-kanto, kung saan higit kong naramdaman na sa kabila ng ugali kong pagka-eletista,

May natitirang bahagi pa rin ng sarili ko ang konektado pa sa masa,

kung saan ako unang namulat matagal na panahon na ang nakalipas...

The Return Of The Butterfly (Last Part)

The brief downpour has made the road slippery and dangerous for the motorists to tread. Inside the cab, I felt a surge of nostalgia as I mindlessly gazed at the passing cars racing against time to reach their destination. It was already past 1 am and for most people who were still outside, the night was still young despite the brief drizzle that had drenched the streets. Parties elsewhere were just beginning to take a full swing.

A few years back, I would claim the night was all mine to enjoy. However, work and other commitments had forced me to view the night as a frustrated company nowadays. The feelings of unfamiliarity, which had never crossed my thoughts before tempts me to cut my journey short and head home instead - to the warm embrace of my soft bed and tranquil desk lamp that comforted me in my sleep.

The journey, which took around 45 minutes from Veterans Village to Vito Cruz dragged for so long, I felt a deep thrust of restlessness slicing down my throat. The thoughts of Lostwansoul and the rest of the guys happily singing and drinking inside a cozy karaoke bar was the only thing that kept me sober.

However, the dictates of drunkenness had finally set in when I arrived at the Provident. Dragging myself out of the cab, I did not even notice Lostwan waiting for me outside the bar. If he never deliberately bumped himself into me, I would have wandered inside that terribly hot place searching for where room number 10 was located.

---

The moment I dropped my bag at room number 10, I immediately went out to look for the nearest bathroom to take a leak. Lostwan decides to tag along since I don't know where the bathroom was and I was new to the place which is just a street across La Salle. While on our way to the bathroom (which was located at the far end of the second floor) he gave me a brief tour of the place to keep me in full control of my senses.

Wherever I looked at, lesbians were everywhere. Most of them are of the butch kind though, but some, were as hot as the girl who entertained us at Kirsh's birthday party. There were PLUs as well, but most of them surrounded themselves with female companions as they partied the night singing Mariah and Madonna's songs.

The events that unfolded after were a bit hazy, since my drunken state had already prevented me to think and act clearly. The only thing that I could remember was the sense of belongingness that I felt while greeting the guys who were present: Bananaboy, Techsupport, Swimbod, Sad&Blue and the celebrity couple Japhet and Jandreks. In times of extreme intoxication, I ease up my formalist approach to people to tell them what I really feel at that moment. Last night, I cannot remember the kind words I've said except for one; I told Bananaboy, whom I've known for almost two years how I missed his company. In fact, after not showing up in PEx gatherings for more than a month, I guess my overall feelings toward the guys were more of missing. Those who showed up last night (including several others who were absent) were the very people I'm always looking forward to see whenever I showed up in the meet-ups.

It was already getting late and after downing four more bottles of San Mig Light as I joined their "concert performance," I decided to head home simply to change clothes and go to work. At this point, I could not even walk straight anymore. If I am not mistaken, Sad&Blue, who was always there whenever I get extremely drunk such as what happened last night and Lostwan, followed me from the bathroom all the way to the lobby just to make sure I rode the cab in one piece.

My gratefulness will always be with them.

Looking back, the parties I attended last night came in a time when I am beginning to feel being left behind. It was a great moral booster especially since I started assessing how I socialize and interact with people. A few nights ago, I discovered that my friends in G4M decided to have a night out without informing me of their activities, even if I was texting two of them the same evening they went out. I even implied to Caretaker that it would have been easier to accept that they were having fun if I never got any word from them. But I guess that is how things work sometimes. As people used to say to me, do not force yourself in, when it is clearly obvious that they want your presence out.

As for last night, the reunions renewed the bonds I had with people who have been part of my life. It proves that the friendships I have with them endures despite the changing perceptions I have with my preference nowadays.

The gatherings taught me that in a time of renewed transitions and severe confusions, it is always good to have a reminder that a cornerstone of your past remains. Even if things change completely, at least there will be something to cherish whenever such changes leave you a feeling of being a bit lost.

I arrived home at past 3 am and the only thing I had in mind was to prepare myself going to work. It does not matter if I was drunk or not, the consequences of getting caught reporting for duty under the influence of alcohol had never really crossed my mind. For me, it was all but an experience. If I could pull myself together without getting noticed, then there is something for me to be proud of.

However, as I was preparing my things, my mom caught me and stopped me from leaving the house. She said that I should wait for the sun to rise and that the empty dark streets are still dangerous to tread even if I would take the cab going to work. Being the obedient son, I followed her command, especially after she assured me to wake me up for work. Drunkeness had finally consumed me and I was already throwing up at the sink. In such wasted state, there was no point to attempt the impossible since there was also no assurance that I could effectively do my duties in my account.

So I stayed home and nursed my swirling headache in my sleep.

Morning came and like what my mother had promised, she tried to wake me up to no avail. I did regain consciousness eventually, only to send this one single text message to my team leader. It was my assurance that no matter what happened, my absence would not incur a grave violation.

Gudam. D po ako makapasok. A im looking a3tpeq myr brotger.

She must have figured out what really happened.

I woke up past 8:30 in the morning, too late even to go on a half-day.