RAIN OF TERROR

By Reymundo Salao
Oftentimes Disturbing



“Drip!” saliva?

“Dripety-Drip!” Oh crap. It’s raining!

It was supposed to be a pleasant evening for my usual pleasure trip to the pirated-DVD/CD stalls, but with the dark clouds suddenly shrouding the skies, my evening would seem to get messy. The ATM at Robinson’s was unavailable, so I had to get to the nearest one: the one at Marymart. I began to awkwardly walk faster as I was beginning to realize that my sling bag isn’t really a great alternative to an umbrella.

“CHAK! CHAK! CHAK!” It’s raining hard!

This sucks; I usually bring my umbrella in my bag! Now that I need it the most, it’s not there. How could anyone have expected to rain today? It was quite sunny, even humid, for almost 3 weeks now. Well, that’s what we get for never really treating the weather report seriously as “news-to-listen-to” don’t we? I can imagine the weather reporter now as she should be laughing at how uneasy I was skedaddling across the road, like a costumed Mascot in the middle of a terrorist attack, with the silly bag on my head.

At last, I got in the mall, the piracy havens are just a few steps away, taking a glance at where they were, it was as if misty fairy voices are calling unto me: “Buy us!” But I had to get to the ATM machine first, I only have like 8-peso coins in my pocket, I spent my last 20 pesos to photocopy articles from a borrowed ENTREPENEUR magazine. Hey, we all have that wish to be wealthy entrepreneurs too, you know! My face fell with a mumble of curses as I found that the ATM machine I got to was also unavailable. ARGH! I had to get to the next machine quick. My feet were marching heavily in anxiety. Drat! Delays! Delays!

Outside, the rain was already a raging storm that cleaned the streets of pedestrians and replaced it with a fog of splashing, crashing rain. So hard was it that I could not avoid getting wet as I passed by the shaded sides of the mall. When I positioned myself across the Amigo entrance, I was pouting upon how I would cross the street that was being ravaged by the rain. No umbrella. Crap. Just this barong. Got no choice. Time to express how I really felt about this barong. After office, if I’m planning to have a nice stroll someplace else before heading home, I usually change clothes and fold my barong into my bag. Now, it has become my “kodong”

Rushing thru the rain, I am already GAD-AWFUL WET. My pants were dripping and each drop of rain was like an icy shuriken that struck at my trembling body. One more street to cross to reach the next ATM. Each splashing step felt like it had a cinematic slow-motion effect that echoed amidst a choral soundtrack. I got to the bank’s shades like it was crossing the North-to-South Korean borderline. But I could read the ATM screen thru my foggy glasses “MACHINE UNAVAILABLE” ARGH! What’s going on? Is Jose Pidal currently hacking the ATMs dry?!!! I had to sit down for a moment and relay my pathetic predicament to friends, fishing for sympathy. All I got was an automated txt from the celfone company asking me if I wanted to be textpals with Kris Aquino.

The rain; still a manifestation of hell. Across the street from where I was, were some women who gestured, asking if the ATM was available. I gave them a thumbs-down, telling them it was unavailable. The next machine was nearby but when I positioned directly across the bank, the rain already created a flood on the road. And the rain was consistently pissed off in rage. By this time, the barong was as wet as a teabag, so are my pants and my shirt. It was inevitable that I cross the flood to get to the bank. It felt like how I imagined Vietnam war scenes would feel like; chaotic and nasty.

So I got to the machine. BEEP BEEP I could breathe easy now. But I choked on it. TRANSACTION CANCELLED-8350-CARD CAPTURED.

Eh…
Ehehe…
Ehehehe!

It was crazy and miserable I had to let out a sarcastic self-mocking chuckle. Just like that, I had to roll with the punches of life’s insecurities. I’ll just check it with the bank in the morning. For now, plan B. Go home.

I crossed the street, again, making myself more wet than I already am. I could now feel how wet it is inside my sandal-like shoes. The rain is so hard, this might be the end of the world. Where’s Noah when you need him? Which, by the way, would be a great business: NOAH’s ARKO: Bus Service for people stranded by hard rain.

So there I was for what felt like an hour at the burger stand, stranded by rain, waiting for the jeepney that is actually few and always is full; the Jaro Liko. I missed 3 Liko jeepneys already just because either the driver didn’t see me, or I wasn’t able to distinguish the CPU and the Liko jeepneys with my wet and foggy glasses. After seeing my entire life flash before my eyes, I was able to get to one and sat back with some relief.

The rain was beginning to ease down. But there were still remnants of annoying floods on the streets outside. A timid young lady got off the jeepney. When she realized that the jeepney left her in a certain part of the road where it was quite difficult for her to get safely to the sidewalk, I could see her suddenly turn on a pissed-off face as her lips obviously muttered curses that seemed to sound like Shee.. Yudip… Ambil..! That short moment of quirkiness should amuse me. The duration of my jeepney ride home is just long enough for my wet body to give me flu. I could feel the flu-viruses inside me ganging together like an assembly of Edsa Revolutionists, ready to gather their strengths for my demise.

The rain stopped. The driver took off the plastic covers that shielded the passengers from rain. And I could smell the breeze of an evening fresh of rain. The streetlights turn blue. The Drew Barrymore poster at the eyeglass shop remind me of her. Dammit! Just when I began to have feelings for her, her friendster status had to change to “In A Relationship” all of a sudden. Oh well. Life goes on. Roll with the punches. Here I am, at last, dry at home, with some peppermint tea on my desk.