A Peculiar Day
It promised to be a day from hell… it turned out to be one of the most peculiar days of my life.
The hellish part…
My alarm clock woke me up at 4 am. I had an approximately 3-hour commute to Los Baños where I accepted a part-time lecturing post for this semester and my first class was set at 8:30 am (I miss teaching so even if my fare alone would eat up half of the compensation I’ll get from it; I accepted the offer).
I had only around 4 hours of sleep so I turned off the alarm and unwittingly dozed off again. I woke up at 42 minutes past 4. While I was rushing through my morning ablutions, one line kept repeating itself in my head: “I’m going to be late!”
When I was ready to leave, it started to rain. And it was no mere drizzle either but a raging downpour. Oh well… just go with the flow – if you know what I mean.
I reached the HM bus station with enough time to make it to my first class – barring unexpected circumstances that might delay me, of course. It was obviously not my day because something unexpected did happen. The bus conductor said that there has been an accident so traffic was realllllyyy slow at the expressway…
Speaking of the Bus Conductor
Our bus conductor had a sense of humor… corny and cheesy, yes, but humor nonetheless. Along EDSA, while calling on would-be passengers, our bus “konduktor” started reciting his usual spiel: “Sta. Cruz, Sta. Cruz… O, mga Sta. Cruz dyan.”
Bored with his worn-out lines, he started improvising. He began to shout “O, Mr. Cruz, Mrs. Cruz, Mr. and Mrs. Cruz dyan.” He did this again and again. Whenever he said it, (only) he and the bus driver laughed; the rest of us winced.
Then he started to become more imaginative. After a few minutes, he started chanting “O, Mr. and Mrs. Cruz, Cara y Cruz.” Again, (only) he and the bus driver cackled and the rest of us kept on wincing.
Extremely gross entertainment, anyone?
An HM bus ride wouldn’t be complete without entertainment. As entertaining (?) as the bus conductor was, a movie is of course so much better. The bus conductor chose a sure winner for this. It had all the elements of a fascinating movie: gore, sex, blood, drama, more gore, suspense, more blood, horror, plenty more of gore, hidden twists, and plenty more of blood.
This was the second time that I saw this movie (I still didn’t catch the title) and it was as fascinatingly gross as I remembered it to be.
It was a story about former high school classmates who did some unbelievably stupid things when they were in high school. There were curses flying left and right: one female student used black magic to make a star athlete like her (so she can win a bet), one male student used black magic to get his hottie teacher (who was star athlete’s stepmother) in bed, a gym teacher did the same thing to get the same hottie teacher in bed, the group (boys and girls, including star athlete a.k.a. hottie teacher’s stepson) put a curse on this same gym teacher who molested all of them when they were caught videotaping the gym teacher and the hottie teacher “doing their thing.” The video was shown to the whole school, the hottie teacher’s marriage and family life went to pieces and she was crazed with grief. The hottie teacher was told to eat the flesh of the people who put a curse on her. In the end, the hottie teacher killed the voodoo master, the gym teacher, her husband, her children (including the star athlete/stepson) – and all those who made up the group of students who cursed the gym teacher.
It’s a convoluted story, I know. This is the only thing you should really remember: every one o fthe main characters in the movie ended up dead. Of course, from the beginning to the end, the whole movie was filled with rituals, ghosts, flesh-eating, body cleansing (by pouring boiling water into the gaping mouth of a paralyzed boy), burning flesh, bashing of heads, guns, a girl digging her eyes out, an old woman eating her cat, etc – just the usual stuff, eh?
She quietly sat there, on the seat in front of mine. I thought she was occupied with the movie, as was everyone else whom I could see. She had hidden depths, though.
A geyser of puke suddenly spewed forth, arcing within 270-degrees. One minute, everything was peaceful (except for the screams coming from the gross film’s characters and the bus conductor’s chatter, that is). The next minute, a retching sound was heard and puke spurted. The next thing I know, I saw puke on the side of the neck of the guy seated beside her, puke everywhere on her jeans (the part of it that I can see, anyway), puke on the feet of the lady accross the aisle from her, and puke on the floor. A little wet feeling on my feet told me that I got spattered a bit.
The peculiar thing was that – as far as I can see from the back – she was a perfectly mature woman who should have been more than capable of holding puke in or, at least, of daintily puking into a plastic bag or a container of some sort. Perhaps it was the combination of corny bus conductor, gross flick, slippery pavements, and rough bus movements… I don’t know… but she really gave new meaning to “throwing up.”
Adding Insult to Puke Injury
And as if things couldn’t get any worse (or any more hilarious), the bus conductor – after around 15 minutes – finally noticed the puddle of puke scant inches from where he was seated on the bus’ floor. He got out liquid cleaner and a rag then jokingly asked the lady accross the aisle – the innocent and injured party who got puke on her feet – “You puked?” If looks could kill, that bus conductor would have been zapped dead on the spot.
(Repost from my Yahoo 360 blog)