Stopping for flowers

Stopping for flowers

MAY 25, 2007

“What a stupid way to die,” I muttered to myself. Trapped inside a steel cage suspended in mid-air with seven other people gasping for air, I can taste fear inside every trickle of sweat dripping across my face, and it is awful. I calm myself by thinking that help is on the way. But tick… tock … tick… tock… Time seems to be slower, as if we were in Phuma Lear’s Time and Space warp. With every sluggish tick of the seconds dial and the possibility of suffocating to death, crazy thoughts began to circle my head. Five minutes have passed and no help still. My ears are bursting with the sound of the emergency alarm bell, the ringing sound rattling my skull. The spinning fan above us makes things worst as sour air is re-circulated further to our discomfort. Good thing I wore deodorant that day.

I look for a vent and the possibility of climbing out in case things get more serious. I tried to recall movies that had scenes people trapped in elevators, and maybe come up with an idea. I could be a zero to hero if I can pull this off. Nah…

Charades

Charades

MAY 20, 2007

When I was kid I was always fascinated with the way elections are carried out in the Philippines. It was celebrated with such colorful fashion where every aspect human deception is carefully plotted. From the pre-election shenanigans up to the infamous last-two-minutes crunch time, where even the dead rise from the depths of hell to vote. Road craters disappear faster before you can even say heropsychodreamerfreak. Motorcades fill the streets with streamers and posters. Minions even hand out cheap polyester shirts, and other wearable items. My favorite was the Erap &Edong orange armband; I wore it until the threading held on. Depending on the current hit song, jingles are patterned to, and infused with superficial lyrics. Whatever happened to good old fashion debates? That I don’t know. Perhaps, it was buried underneath the mud along with thousand of homes during the Pinatubo eruption.