The Ghost in that Red FX
It’s Thursday. Rainy rainy day. The horror.
After the strenuous hours I spend in school, I stagger to ride a UPCampus-Katipunan jeepney to get out from UP. I go home at 5:30 dusk to finally call the day… well, A Day. I relax my self on the inconvenient jeepney seat along with fellow students, some whom I regularly see but never bothered to know who they are (why should I, by the way?) and others who I never gave a second look.
The ten minute trail ends under this flyover, leading to C5 in Katipunan, intersecting with Aurora Boulevard. I step down from this jeepney and assemble my strength to cross that pink overpass over there, which by the way unites the passers-by with the flyover’s begrimed underbelly.
A long walk, eh- I wanna rest now.
As soon as I pace down this overpass, I open my blue umbrella to protect myself from melting with the rainwater. I march to the lot, adjacent the LRT station, where kolorum Toyota Tamaraw FX’s supposedly park to get passengers quickly. This is my second measure before reaching Marikina. Beforehand, I have chosen to ride an FX as to cast away all the predicted disgusts I might experience from riding some other vehicle in that particular moment.
There aren’t any FX’s yet. I fall in a civilized line with some other people, mostly students, who looked like they needed to gulp some Vitamin C capsules. I frown as I wait for that… thing.
Finally, some red FX arrives. It’s a Mitsubishi Adventure, which in all cases is more convenient from the shaky Toyota- which we all know is more abundant in the metropolitan. God loves me.
When the filthy barker- more drenched than Michael Phelps when he was winning medals- signals us that we can already go inside, I rush to the middle seats and situate my self far left. No one from the other fellows crammed in that vehicle can stop me resting my back. Again, God loves me.
The rain is murderous. Urban traffic jam is unbearable. Even if these things flow freely in my mind, I jadedly stare at the window pane, where raindrops settle. I once in a while close my eyes because I am terribly weary, you know.
Fifteen minutes pass, and we are in what Marikeños refer to as Bayan. People are lined on the covered sidewalks maybe waiting for their fetchers, for the rain to halt or for contemplated teleportation. I feel arrogance that I’m in some air-conditioned wheeled box about to reach my home. Poor Them, I scoff to my self.
Somewhere else, the Adventure is about to turn left. The driver tinkers something that enables a green arrow to blink in the dark. He turns the wheel eagerly to the left as my seatmate, clad in red uniform whom I presume is a thirty something woman provokes, “Ma, sa tabi lang ah.”
I gaze widely as I hear her urge to disembark. I pull my self together literally as the FX lingers on the street. Next, I open the left middle door beside me then I stretch my umbrella and finally get off the FX. I guard my bag from possible snatchers and from the downpour. I turn around and I stand here looking down on my slippers and positively waiting for my seatmate to come after me. I wait. And wait.
Flawlessly, she draws the exposed door to her as my eyes widen from utter shock. The door closes leaving my face peering on the tilted pane. I remain stupidly steady as the Adventure engine emanates a sound saying that it will be fleeing in a second. I go back to my senses that, “Hey, that witch’s not gettin’ out after all!”
And yes, in a second, the Adventure flees in front of me.
PS I’m blogging real-time in CMC exploiting the WIFi. Yahoo!