Doublemeat Palace

I can still feel my legs throb as I write this.

In what could be the most unfortunate, stupidest night of my life, I find myself wasting precious sleep hours stuck in some dank computer shop along A. Bonifacio (I could almost imagine nocturnal gamers refusing to tear themselves away from Warcraft and relieving themselves in their seats), writing these words. It's 3:50 at dawn right now, and I just have to wait another hour or so before I go back to my boarding house.

I must take a mental note that I shouldn't stay out very late at night especially when I don't have my house keys with me and when I don't have my cellphone fully charged. My colleague and I lost track of time while in a deep, life-changingly satisfying conversation about illusions and dreams of world peace, personal fulfilment and imaginary love lives over late night snack. It was already half an hour past 1 in the morning when we finally but half-heartedly decided to go back to our respective houses and, until then, I almost totally forgot that I lost my house keys last Sunday when I dined out with a college friend. I only wish KFC's customer service is as good as their fried potatoes.

So without my keys I decided to try the conventional thing to do, which is swallow all my pride, finally accept that I am human and that I too am capable of committing stupid mistakes, knock on our boarding house's doors and windows until someone finally wakes up, and then simply apologize for the hassle. Profusely.

So I did. But people who know me know that I am the type who'd rather inconvenience myself than inconvenience others, especially when I know that it is an honest mistake on my part. The neighborhood where I rent is especially most conducive to such discomfort. Anything louder than a whisper will sound like a boom box to the entire block. Imagine it this way: while inside our own rooms, we can hear the clanking of the spoons and forks as the family living right across us enjoy their dinner. So I tried knocking and calling on Ate Lani in the most determined yet modulated voice and amount of force I can muster, to no avail. It was 2 in the morning after all.

And so I accept that I am officially locked out of my boarding house. Len and I think up of other ways how (and where) I can spend the night: she tries to offer the house she rents, but realizes there is not enough space for me; I suggest going back to our office where there are comfortable couches but she tells me the campus apparently locks their gates as 12 midnight strikes; I surrender to the possibility of living the pauper's life and sleep in the cold, hard concrete benches scattered all over Marikina, but she warns me the effective urban police of the city might mistake me for a vagabond (which I almost am, right now). Going home to Novaliches is not an option, as I could get into more trouble - not to mention danger- along the deserted streets leading to our side of Metro Manila's mountains.

Remembering the measly savings I have in my bank account, I went looking for a possible B&B or hotel which charges reasonably for transients. We find the Riverbend Hotel, which zoomed past my budget. I decided to just go stay at an all-night establishment and let my colleague get some rest. She has, after all, heard and walked enough troubles with me last night. So I walked her to her house, which I'll pass by on my way to downtown Marikina where all the most "happening" places are to be found.

Happening they may be, with a live band and some good drinks, but Marikina's hotspots are not for "pa-morningans". After downing just two bottles of San Mig Light, the band thanked the small crowd and quietly stepped off the stage. I have no idea if the place was already about to close for the night, but I decided to leave as soon as I realized that it was just me and the waiters left. It was 3:30 in the morning, more than hour ago.

In a sad show of lower class naivete, I tried my luck on a Starbucks shop a few blocks away to see if I can spend the rest of dawn there. The coffee shop had apparently closed up 3 hours earlier, along with the other establishments surrounding it (Jollibee, KFC, Yellowcab, Shakey's, Pancake House). So I decided to go back to where I started, and walk back I did, just so I could waste more time as I scout for a place to spend the night/morning. I walk through a long alley of who could be girls and boys for rent, where one boy winked and another whistled when I passed them by. It was both frustrating and flattering.

So I walk from downtown Marikina to Riverbanks Mall (the distance could be half a kilometer) not knowing where to go but desperately hoping that by walking a step every three seconds, dawn will break as soon I reach our neighborhood.

Then I pass by Bossing computer shop, where kids half my age stay up late to reach hero level 12. I ask if I can rent a PC, the shop manager (also among the kids playing DoTA) agrees, and I open my blog account.

Now an hour has passed. It's 5 in the morning and my house mates are already probably awake. I better get going now so I could finally lay my legs down, and remember to leave my land lady a paper note asking her to duplicate the house keys.

I apologize for the insipidness. In case you haven't noticed, I am really like this, and it shows even more in today's entry.