Travel Entertainment

She seemed unusually fond of bears. She looked of quiet sophistication. Even now as she slipped in and out of her nap she seemed unreachable. I'm not quite sure if I've seen a french model, but I was rather certain that she looked like one. Her hair color gradated from gold to hazel as the sun peeked through the vehicle's window. I stared at her aquiline nose and thin lips as I tried to decipher my sudden attraction.

Three seats apart, I still noticed as beads of sweat started forming above her brow. There was a small bear pinned on her handbag.

I guess she was enigmatic in that way. It's like she could ask me to play house and I wouldn't know whether or not the invitation had sexual undertones.

The air conditioning was no match for the seeping heat of the sun and the road, not to mention the collective body warmth of ten people. My own sweating had become more generous though I hardly moved. My eyes in contrast continued their journey.

She was wearing what seemed to be a pale green pleated skirt. She seemed preppy actually, if not for her face that belonged more in Vogue than with the rest of her. As was natural with my thought process, I pictured her wearing a schoolgirl uniform and a matching impish smile.

I let my own smile slip through at the thought. Well, whoever said that public transport was devoid of entertainment.

I imagined that the paper bag she held contained her feminine effects like an atomizer and a big brush. The bag was checkered with bears.

At that point, I figured that I had invested too much time entertaining these recent thoughts about her. I had to surrender to the natural course of things. Do I say hi or not?

I suppose I was sufficiently dressed so as not to be mistaken for a perv. Well, even if I was, it wouldn't take much of a stretch to be true. This is why men wear ties isn't it? To add that air of respectability and decency. Mental note: ties are not solely used for tying women's hands to bed posts.

I found that my normally dry hands softened with moisture. It seems that my body has already started expressing reservations about my plan.

Torpe.

Fill In The Words

Fill In The Words
(inspired by the song from the musical, "They're Playing Our Song")

“… And that’s what I’m feeling right now.”

I used to think that breaking up with someone was the easiest thing to do. If something has not been working for sometime, then it must be broken, right? So how can you break something that was broken already in the first place? And yet, one of the hardest things I’ve done – And now I realize – is telling the truth about how you feel about someone.

She never told me that she loved me. Actually, it was taboo for our relationship to ever say those three words to each other. We told ourselves that we would reserve those three words when we truly meant it – and that would have been the perfect thing to say in our wedding vows. We both agreed we would stay the same, and that we’d never change nor attempt to change the other. I guess what we were really trying to say at that time was – we didn’t want to change yet. But somehow, we both knew that by doing what the other wanted to do, little changes were slowly taking place – little compromises, little pacts, little promises that turned into broken vows.

I’m not saying I’m the perfect guy. Actually, I’m saying just the opposite. If I were a girl, I would never fall in love with a guy like me. Never. I was too independent. I was too moody. I was never transparent. I wasn’t fair. I didn’t want to change, and yet I wanted everyone around me to. I felt like I wasn’t boyfriend material – if there ever was a profile of such.

And yet, here I am, sitting alone in an airport, with strangers sitting beside me who couldn’t care less of what I typed in my laptop – much less of what was going through in my mind. I’m feeling – hmmm, what am I feeling right now?

“Excuse me, are you in Flight MH705 bound for Kuala Lumpur?” a voice from behind me spoke. I turned around, and saw a beautiful young woman, probably not more than 23 or 24, wearing a flight attendant’s uniform.

“Uh, sorry, no,” Then I faced my laptop again and started typing away.

“I guess you’re a businessman,” the young woman spoke again. “Only businessmen would carry laptops and type away like there’s no tomorrow.”

I looked behind me again, and saw the same young woman, with an impish grin on her face. I replied, “Well, I guess you’re a flight attendant, because only flight attendants can be so annoying.”

She laughed, and her laugh was infectious, that I started laughing too – not at myself or at what I said, but at her laugh. And her smile. And her eyes that sparkled. I thought I could rub her off that easily but I was wrong. She was persistent – and determined to get to know me better.

So we struck a conversation. She was from Pampangga, and her name was Ellenora. “What a weird name! I never knew anyone who had two names in one”

“Actually,” she said, “my parents couldn’t decide whether they should name me after my great grandmother, Ellen, or my aunt, Nora. Obviously they still were unable to decide until my birth certificate was created.”

“And you had to actually live with two names – so which one are you? Are you more the Ellen or more the Nora?” I asked, trying to pretend to sound interested, but am actually quite bored already.

“I’m Ellenora, and I’m the only one of my kind.” She smiled, and then she asked me a silly question. “So what are you feeling right now?”

I was stunned with her question – not only because it came out of the blue, but because that was the same question that has been running through my mind all afternoon.

“I’m bored. And besides, I have to get to my flight already.”

“Sorry for bothering you. I just really wanted to get to know you better. Do you have a business card? Or a contact number I can call you in?” she asked.

I gave her my card, out of courtesy. Then she said, “I’ll call you when you get back.” Then she left.

------------ 0 -------------

I never expected her to call me back, and yet, half of me was expecting that she would. I am the kind of person who loves surprises – and the only way to do that is to lessen my expectations on events and about the people around me. And so, when she called me up, I was surprised.

“Hello,” I said. I was waiting for my turn at the hospital when she called.

“Hi, this is Ellenora,” she replied. Her voice was serious, and had a seeming urgency in it, like she was driving or doing something else while she was on the phone.

"Uhhh,... oh, hi, Ellenora from the airport???"

I heard her laugh, and then she replied, "Yes, Ellenora from the airport. But I'm not there anymore,... I'm actually driving.... Just driving around. Where are you?"

"Uh, I'm at the hospital...," I had barely finished my sentence when she cut me off.

"Are you hurt? Which hospital???" Her serious, urgent voice at the beginning, now became more panicky. "What happened???"

"Oh, no, it's not what you think. I had my blood checked, and I'm just waiting for the results. I'm supposed to have this semestral blood and urine exam since I had this kidney problem a couple of years back. It's more for the doctors, really -- just so they can monitor my health," I said in a reassuring tone.

"Oh, I see,... but still, aren't you a bit worried about whatever they might find?" She asked.

"Not really.... I haven't been feeling like something's wrong with me or anything. As I said, this is just a routine procedure." Then there was silence from the other line. I could hear some some faint music in the background, and I could tell she was listening to it. I asked her, "What are you listening to?"

"Huh? Oh, this. It's just a song."

Blogwise

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In the Stillness of the Night

"Don't be tempted to dip your toes in the water," Sheila advised Ian. "It not only provides for great ambience but an abundant source of germs as well."

Ian's thoughts wandered as was almost customary. He figured that it could have been ten years ago and he could have been faced with the very same situation, except that the water would have been cleaner then. Well, he didn't always dip his toes in the water. No, that is not analogous to getting caught with your fingers in the cookie jar. It's just that Ian figured that his idea of fun, his conversational tendecies, and sadly, his financial capacity has remained the same over the supposedly defining ten-year span.

"But who cares?" he thought. He was, after all, still oozing with undeniable machismo and possessing some rock hard...ideals, not to mention cultivating a detached imagination.

Then Ian asked himself, "Why stop at ten years? What if my view of things has in fact remained the same for over 20 years?!"

At that point, Sheila, a woman, decided that she will not allow that many digressions from someone other than herself, even if these are just thoughts. She was almost at mild panic when she estimated that she hasn't nearly fulfilled her 7,000 words per day quota.

It was, however, too romantic a moment (mosquito breeding water and all) to be disrupted with too many words. So under her breath she muttered, "blah blah blah," hoping that she could get away with about a thousand of these in the next few minutes.

Finally deciding to verbally react, Ian replied in a not so subtle manner, "Can I dip myself into you instead?" Just then he thought about cheese factories and how they must hire 1,000 men such as him to deliver 'cheesy' lines in an assembly line fashion.

"Blah blah blah...that makes 200", Sheila continued.

The Write Incentive

The Write Incentive

Hi guys. I invited you to join because I believe the essence of this blog somehow reflects you. What can you post? Anything with a dose of humor I guess. Just know that there's nothing too technical or mundane that we can't write about it. Pero pag may mag post ng drama, angst, pro FPJ comment o picture ni juday or F4, papatayin ko. Let's begin.