Ramon and Other Ghosts of Blog Entries Past

I commuted for three freaking hours last Tuesday. Three. One - two - three. I was out of the house by seven am, but only got to login at the office at ten am, barely making it on time. What made it more frustrating was that I was hoping/expecting to arrive early so I could go to ULTRA after work.

But nooo. The usual twenty minute trike ride took around forty minutes. Father Suarez, the Canadian-based healing priest was in Antipolo church that morning and traffic was rerouted. If you've been to Antipolo, you would know how already confusing the roads are. Narrow and full of one-ways, only left turns, only right turns, only patient people with cheerful attitudes.

I had to walk the last two blocks to the FX terminal. And when I got there, a part of me wanted to turn around, take a trike back home, and just sleep in my bed. The queue was so long I had to double check it wasn't heading to some movie theater showing a blockbuster movie of I don't know - Piolo Freaking Pascual. Or whoever people line up for. You may notice that "freaking" is going to make more appearances in this entry.

There must have been fumes rising from my head at this point. The only thing that made me temporarily forget my annoyance is when I saw the old couple again in the queue. I wrote about them before. As usual, the old lady just stood beside her husband while waiting for the shuttle. When he finally boarded, she helped close the door and gently tapped a finger at the window. He smiled and waved at her from the inside and she waved back.

And me? I felt stupid for getting teary eyed. And seriously, the sudden change of the mood swing can be a real cause of alarm, don't you think? Anyway, it's a baseless longing for something I don't understand (at all), haven't felt (pretty sure), but can appreciate from afar (of course).

Another character of an old blog entry made a "non-appearance". Remember Ramon? Good old Ramon - old buddy, old pal. Gosh, I have received enough calls and texts from his family that I feel we are connected in an inexplicable cosmic level. Maybe we are freaking meant for each other. (There's that word again.)

Just yesterday night, his mother called me up. I was having dinner with my friends. The voice on the other end of the unregistered number was sharp and somewhat shrill.

"RJ? RJ? Hello?"

"Hello, Ma'am. Sino po hinahanap nila?"

"RJ? Is this Ramon? Hello?"

"Sorry po, Ma'am, but you have the wrong number po."

"Ah, ok."

She didn't click the end call button right away and I heard her say, "It was a wrong number. He changed numbers? How come?"

Two minutes later, the same unregistered number texted me this message: "Pls call. Mommy"

RJ - could be Ramon Junior, I suppose. Haaay, RJ, RJ. Old buddy, old pal. Didn't you read the first edition of "Life's Little Instruction Book"? The last instruction was: "Call your freaking mother."

Not in the same words, I admit. But you know which one to omit by now.