“Who cares who Murphy is anyway! He isn’t the one trapped –not stuck– in the muck of Manila traffic!” I gritted my teeth in desperation as precious time ticked away from my getting to the airport on time.
“[HONK! HONK! HONK!]…come on…! Come on…!” the driver too was getting impatient. But I was more anxious because the meter was clicking faster than we were moving.
“Think positive, Fran! Think positive…,” I tried calming myself. “There’s always a reason for such delays.”
Despite the vehicle’s reliable air-conditioning, I was still sweating with anxiety. I dried my forehead and remembered what dad used to say: “Some things in life are just not meant to be….”
“True, dad… (I’m fond of talking to him every now and then) but surely it can’t be this one!”
I was tempted to bang my fist on some part of the car but I refrained from doing so because it might offend the driver. A car for some drivers is like an extension of their bodies (ouch!).
Finally, the Edsaparkinglosaurus (a gigantic Jurassic dinosaur made of smaller metallic vehicles gradually fossilizing in the middle of nowhere but still spewing carbon fuel) micro-inched forward.
As it lumbered onwards, I saw a bus with a flat tire. “That’s maybe why we’re in such a jam,” I concluded.
“At least I’m lucky enough not to be there. Poor passengers… no ride, stuck, sweating, late and whoa…!”
Amongst the passengers stood out a familiar colossal shape –not face– of someone! “That’s Ed! My Barney look-alike friend, flying buddy and … [SWACK!!!]
Suddenly, two massive sweaty, grimy, and crimson pulsating paws covered the entire rear right window pane of the car.
“Fathu…!” Ed said.
For a second, imagine you’re on a Safari staring at a huge polar bear curiously peering into your vehicle. But a polar bear on a Safari? Yeah, a huge and delirious bear wearing a sweat-drenched T-shirt that said: ‘It’s MORE FUN in R.P.!’
“R.P. or did I read it was my R.I.P.?”
Ed’s paws…I mean hands, slowly slid off the window leaving ten converging grimy prints of his colossal fingers.
“Ye, goin’ … urh-port, too? Bus broke down…catch my plane. Can I hitch… will pay fare… What ye say…” I managed to catch his mumbled growls through the pane.
I was so shocked by his appearance that I couldn’t get myself to utter a word nor even open the door.
“What if this polar bear isn’t friendly?”
“Sir…, excuse me sir…,” the driver broke through my trance. He seemed a bit uneasy observing if Ed was going to flip the car upside down.
“Okay…, it’s okay,” I immediately recovered. “He’s a friend. We can give the hippo a lift.”
“Sir…?” the driver’s eyes popped out.
“Anything wrong?” I said. “Don’t worry, he can pay double [I could have said quadruple] for his size!”
[CLICK!] The driver unlocked the doors and cautiously stepped out.
“Open the trunk, puh-leease! Got more stuff…!” Ed demanded.
I almost forgot, Ed was one travelling circus, Christmas tree and flea-market. In a second, he was back from the bus dragging four huge bags.
When the driver entered the car, he looked like he had just come from the sauna. He was sweating Niagara after almost infinite useless attempts to fit Ed’s luggage into the car’s trunk. I giggled for a second.
The exasperated driver unexpectedly opened the front door and dumped Ed’s remaining bags on the front seat!!! I then began wondering where this elephant going to sit?
NO! Not beside me!
“Hullo, Fathu! Yer my guardian angel!” Ed looked like a snowman rapidly melting from the heat and drenching everything it touched. [HELP!!!]
The first thing that got slimed was my hand as it was enveloped by this defrosting mammoth from Siberia.
“Of all the people…,” I said.
“…it had to be me? Well, Fathu, aren’t you glad? ‘Sides, it’s been yeeears!!!
“Years…? Didn’t we see bounce into each other six months ago, Ed?” I tried reminding him.
“Uh…, yeh, yeh…, right,” he rectified.
“So how have you been, Ed?”
“Fine, Fathu…, and how yeh?”
“Not so great, looking at the traffic I don’t think I’m going to catch my flight.”
“Did, ya call yer airline?”
“Not yet…still taking my chances,” I said.
“I can call dem fer yeh, if yeh like,” he whipped out his cell.
“… that’s so kind of you,” I interrupted him. “I will call them instead now.”
[CLICK!] I ended my call and I was quite relieved. The airlines had also received many similar calls and we were rebooked for a later flight. WHEW!
“Dats, ghed news, Fathu, we could say the Rosary, if ye like,” he suggested.
“Wait a minute, that’s supposed to be my line! Where was Ed the gadgeteer who would show-and-tell about his latest gadget? Is it going to be an iPhone 5C or S now?”
“Nope, am over with dohz days, Fathu,” he swayed his head as he gave a large contented bear-size smile.
“Over…? Is this the Ed I’ve known before? You’ve lost a ‘bit’ of pounds, but surely not over with gadgets and tech-stuff?”
“Yup, Fathu…, I’m the new version of Ed!” he proudly propped his chest and tiny drops of sweat drizzled over the place.
“Whe… when did you become this ‘new version’ Ed?”
“Ever since I discovered the value of space, Fathu!”
“Space!!!?” I hardly could even shift in my side of the car.
“Yup, you know… space we all need inside of uz?”
“Oh, thaaat space!”
“Yup! I realized when I went to cover the news of Pope Francis, I somewhat got struck with what he said about his simplicity thingie. And it dawned on me: the gadgets compete for that space in us. They steal even the tiniest space, and we don’t have room for Jeesuhz in us.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing from a high-tech, clumsy, bouncy and clowny journalist like Ed. “You’ve really zap me there alien buddy,” I replied. “But couldn’t all that tech work for our advantage?”
“Shuh thing, Fathu, but dats whut I thought before. ‘Member the Rosary using my phone or tablet? But darn thin’ wud ring or receive a mahseg, und I cudn’t even really give Jeesuhz muh best prayer ‘coz I wuz so distracted!”
“Right you are, Ed.”
“Den in Mass or prayer, gadgets ring and people just don care anymore, or don know where dey are already.”
“Amen,” I seconded his concern.
“’Und yeh know, Fathu, dem gadgets steal yer money, ‘coz a new brand ulwhez comes out, more expensive, and dey make yeh think yeh need tuh buy it when yer old one still works good! Worse, gadgets steal the vital sacred spaces of prayer, of silence, of sacrifice, of work… und in the end, we only give ourselves to God selfishly half-baked.”
“…that sounds like there’s no room in the inn for Jesus, Ed.”
“Exactly!” Ed was so excited with what I said and literally bounced on his seat.
[BANG!!!]
“Wuzzut…?” he asked.
“Sir,” the driver gave us a very upsetting look. “Flat tire…!”
“Nutttz!” Ed groaned. “Not agaaain…!!!”
“So much for space travelling, Ed,” I poked his tummy. “In that case… Rosary, Ed?”
“…you lead, Father…,” he gently slapped himself on the forehead and melted away in his seat.