I saw him a split second before these happened:
- The cab driver suddenly started spewing curses
- The cab screeching to a halt
- The motorcycle driver suddenly disappearing from beyond the cab
It turned out that a bike crashed into our cab while we were about to turn into 18th Avenue from Boni Serrano (formerly known as P. Tuazon). Boyfriend, Chrissy and I were on our way to pick up Rodwin – Boyfriend’s friend who just came home from Taiwan. Turns out that he’s a pretty okay guy – from what I gathered from the 10 minutes that we were awkwardly sitting in the back of a cab (a different cab) – with really pretty hair. If I were him, I’d grow it longer and have bangs put in. But that’s not the point of this post.
The point is, before I found myself squashed at the back seat of a cab with Boyfriend and his friend, before we even got to meet up with Rodwin, our EMP cab got hit by a motorcycle. Chrissy was the first one out of the cab – later on, he told me that the first thing our driver thought about was whether he was at fault or not. It was him, Chrissy, that started asking about the other driver. I remember looking out the window, trying to see if the other driver was bleeding, broken or dead (morbid that way). He wasn’t. He was angry.
Anyway, as what always happens in the RP whenever another accident occurs in public, people start congregating around the area. This wasn’t a surprise… even I have a thing about watching a scene without really doing anything. When I looked at the crowd, however, I saw two security guards that I assume were assigned to one of the buildings nearby. Haller! Trained people on security and there they were, looking around, just like the rest, looking for another story to tell the next day. When Chrissy and I were exchanging thoughts, I mentioned that all they seemed to be interested in is to get gossip – they didn’t even bother to call the police. Someone else had to do that.
I asked Sheryll to look up the number of either the Barangay or the Cubao police department 10 minutes after we got hit. Why? Because there was still no authority figure there. Boyfriend called the number she came up with and found himself unable to contact anyone. We tried calling 117 (the RP’s version of 911) and reported what happened.
Another 20 minutes passed before a couple of MMDA officers arrived on the scene. We couldn’t leave because we were witnesses (no, the cabbie wasn’t at fault). When they got there, there was absolutely no process. No one was taking pictures (except for me, see image below) and they ended up not talking to us. They talked to Boyfriend but it was only because he spoke up. Chrissy and I were at the corder of the sidewalk, coming up with all sorts of theories (like when the motorcycle driver disappeared for a while, we came up with the story that he got himself a gun and would start shooting us all when he got back). Chrissy said, “This is where our taxes go?”
It was appalling. Interesting, but appalling.
By the time we started walking into 18th Avenue, the MMDA people were still there, as well as the cabbie and the bike driver. There was no resolution. From what I gathered from Boyfriend, it wasn’t even supposed to be the MMDA who were supposed to be there. They weren’t going to be the ones doing the investigation. Apparently, the people we left behind were still waiting for other people to arrive. And to think Camp Crame was about 10 minutes away.
Again, it provided enough entertainment for me to feel the need to write about it, but it really is appalling.
Nicholas Brandon – more popularly known as Xander Harris from the now-concluded series Buffy the Vampire Slayer – can now be found playing Technical Analyst Kevin Lynch in the third season of Criminal Minds. 🙂
The Bottom Line
Your appearance matters more than ever today — dress right for the job you want.
When you feel sad, mad, bad or frustrated, you create. The same is true when you feel happy, pleased, ecstatic or content. Making things up is the way that you say, ‘Here I am’ in this world. You’re on a roll. What are you making? What kinds of pleasure is it bringing you? What’s the mood behind it? See if you can answer some of those questions as you fashion your latest masterpiece.
With what happened tonight, I’m writing a blog entry. Depending on what happens in the next five days, I might just write a resignation letter.
Holed Up In: Our Room in Colorado
Drowning In: Dialogues from Criminal Minds