Wednesday, August 25, 2004


There were about twenty other commuters waiting by the time I reached the stop this morning. That wasn't good. At 7:45 there should only be about two or three waiting for a ride at the area, with the jeeps coming along almost every minute.

But then, who was I kidding? By turning slightly to the right and looking at the filthy waves and flooded banks of Boni Avenue, I could tell I was in trouble.

Still I waited, foolishly hoping that somehow a jeep would come along.

Again, the rain fell. Hard enough to drench my boots in seconds. Hard enough to send drops through the fabric of my (obviously not so dependable) umbrella.

I stood by the road for a few minutes more. I watched the cars make u-turns in the middle of the road, humbled by knee-deep flood waters that stretched for blocks, and move down the wrong side, back to wherever they came from. I watched the single jeep (overloaded, of course) drive past us, plow into the water, and give those folks wading in the flood another shower for the moring. I watched the little crowd around me grow as more people reached the stop and no other jeeps arrived.

Nothing new actually.
Not a single thing.
It was almost 8:30 according to my very wet wristwatch.

I crossed the street and headed for home before the rising flood could creep down the block and trap me on jeepney stop island.

I'm sure you could have made a boat from coconuts and sailed away.
Nah...there are no coconuts growing near the stop. It is beside the graveyard though: I could have sailed away on a coffin.
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