Everybody And Their Mothers

Everybody and their mothers...and more.

Yes. That's how the crowd looked like during the recent World Pyro Olympics at the Esplanade in the Roxas Boulevard area: 'twas as if they brought everybody and their mothers to the event. And mind you, to say that the buong baranggay was there was to say the least. It was like EDSA People Power 1986 (or EDSA Dos 2001) all over again, only this time, 'twas totally festive and there were no uniformed men save for a few traffic enforcers and security guards.

The first two nights that I was there (yes, I'm a sucker for fireworks display...bite me), traffic was somewhere between semi-bearable and miserable. And without even caring which countries were participating in those respective days, I went to the event with Pink and didn't even bother going inside the venue where you have to pay a hundred bucks to listen to Orange and Lemons (and I think other bands) to perform Pinoy Ako of the famed Pinoy Big Brother reality show. After all, I've had my share of alternative and rock bands back in my UP days. We decided to just stand right in front of the gigantic brass globe outside the Mall of Asia a.k.a. superdooperovermegablockbusterhuge SM (which, mind you, is supposedly bigger than the Mall of America; and they said the Philippines is a poor country...third world my ass!), our umbrellas ready for when the slight drizzle turned into rain, and waited for the delayed show to begin. When the first of the many fireworks shot into the night, I started hollering and cheering as if it was the first time I ever saw fireworks. I was capturing it on video on my Nokia and 'twas practically my whoo-hoo's and yeeaaah's that dominated the audio of the video stream. And, oh, Pink and I kissed under the fireworks display and then sniggered right after we did it. Talk about "magic moment".

I missed day three, but not completely, because I was with my sister and Jasmine at Star City. They were visiting in-laws at Forbes and I decided to bring Jasmine to the carnival. Traffic was terrible that by the time I got there, Jasmine was already hungry, sleepy, and cranky. Well, so much for a fun carnival experience. At least after having tried the carousel (where the queue felt more like we were pigs waiting to be slaughtered), she finally lightened up. An hour and a half later, we were in a cab going back to Forbes where traffic was--whoohoo--still bad.

The last night of the competition was supposedly the best, considering 'twas going to be the finale, where all countries will participate and the Philippines, being the host country, will also take part. So we all decided to go--me, my officemates, friends, and acquaintances--and meet up at the venue at around 730ish. It was a legal holiday (Rizal Day) so I was coming from the condo. After much thought, I decided to just take my dinner at the Blue Wave instead of my condo, knowing full well that there's a plethora of restaurants and pitstops there to choose from. So as I was getting ready to leave, I got a chain of SMS messages from my "dates" for that evening saying that they were not going to go anymore, or that they will just try, or some other shit like that. Great. Talk about cowboys and INDIANS.

The cab driver I hailed had no idea he was going to traffic hell. So after merely 19 minutes from my condo to the CCP area, he was mortified to see the terrible congestion from the World Trade Center to Blue Wave. That strip, which normally takes about 8 minutes tops, took me 35 minutes. With my bladder threatening to explode and the vehicles moving about four centimeters every two minutes, I fished 150 pesos from my pocket (I didn't bring my wallet anymore) and dashed to the nearest toilet, which was still a 4-minute walk (I can only go in the john and never go on trees or walls!) and a lot of snaking through thick crowds. Thank God men's toilet almost never has long queues unlike ladies' rooms!

After I finished my business--and washed my hands, mind you!--I headed for the nearest restaurant. I almost had a coronary when I saw that ALL restaurants and pitstops were packed with hungry customers. Even kiosks and stands of Zagu or Lapid's Chicharon had winding queues, for crying out loud! After what seemed like forever in finding a place to eat, I rushed to Pancake House when I saw that it wasn't as packed like sardines as the other restaurants. I was ecstatic with anticipation for a warm meal...until the "lady guard" told me (and the rest of the other famished people around me) that they have decided to close the door to new customers. Perfect. I almost French kissed the guard when she said, as an aside, that take-outs are OK, however.

I ran inside and ordered what I thought what could be eaten with bare hands, with or without a table or a chair: tacos and fries. I waited outside and stole the guard's chair. While waiting, I called Nolet to pass time and catch up on what we haven't talked about in the last couple of days. While talking with her, a group of noisy ladies and kids sat beside me. I even saved a seat for one of the elderly woman because she had to go use the toilet. When it was my time to stand up and go fetch my take-out inside, I asked the same old lady to watch and save my seat while I'm gone. She looked at me as if she didn't know me from fifteen minutes ago, and said, "I can't save that because I don't have control over other people who might steal it". I almost picked up the damned chair and used it to whack her ungrateful and pathetic head.

After picking up my food, I decided I'd rather enjoy my food away from the ungrateful hag. And since the fireworks display venue was teeming with people in almost every nook and cranny, I spotted a free space in between two sedans in the parking lot. If I had a photo of me munching away the greasy, messy taco and soggy fries, I would have captioned it "Alone and Miserable". I was in that state when the first of the fireworks shot in the sky. I totally forgot the feeling of misery, and I felt happy again...but still wanting to whack that hag.

The display went on for about fifteen minutes, without us in the audience knowing which country/ies exactly were performing. When one fireworks display portion failed to give the tremendous oohs and aahs, an elderly Filipino man behind me commented, "Ay, panget. Siguro sa Philippines yan." What a sad commentary on the Philippines and the Filipino craft: just because it's ugly, amidst other countries, it is automatically taken as the work of the Filipino??? Sad, sad, sad.

By the second round of the fireworks display, which was about 30 to 45 minutes later, Sheila, Daniel, Jon, and the two kids have already arrived, thanks to the turtle-paced traffic from EDSA to the Esplanade. When the exhibition finally concluded, we all started heading for the main highway so we could hail a cab or a bus going back to Daniel's place in Libertad. If you saw the number of people headed from Esplanade to EDSA, the only thing it lacked was a picture of the sea parting in the middle, and you'd think you fell into a time-space warp and got thrown in the midst of the Israelites' exodus from the Pharoah. With no luck, we ended up walking aaaaaallll the way to Libertad.

Note to self: whack head for loving the fireworks display and hating the long walk.