Island Stories

Over beer, male friend (mf), PF and I agreed to go to the island and visit PF's relatives one time. mf was in town for a while and the three of us have just been reunited. meanwhile, mf and i had just finished our recent field work and was taking time to exhaust all ways of hanging out because pretty soon we knew we'll get tired of each other.

so the date and time of the island date was set. i hoped nobody's too drunk to forget.

i cannot remember where we rendezvous-ed but i remember mf wore his very faded tie-dyed shirt which i totally hated because combined with his frizzy hair, skinny frame and hippie ways, he looked like your local high school pot dealer. and because i'm with him everyone would presume i am THE associate. if i remember well, i think PF's hair was still long, way below his shoulders. three of us might well just look like your unemployed local high school pot dealers.

There are two routes to get to the island and two routes dock at two different ports. there is a reason why these ports were separated but somehow during that time our route was relocated to the same exact port of the OTHER route. meaning, two routes now dock and leave at the same port. but we do not mind, PF is a local so he would know. no matter how confusing third world travelling is, in this chapter of our adventurous life we were sure not to get lost because we have a local and locals always know best.

so we got the newsprint tickets and boarded the ferry.

i think i was sandwiched between my two male companions who i also trust to go out of their way to save me should the ferry sink because i do not know how to swim. PF told me to just trust the life jacket.

Just as the ferry was negotiating out of the River's mouth, I felt something amiss.

"Are you sure we took the right ferry?"

"How can i not be sure?"

"Because the boat's nose is pointing at the direction of the OTHER port."

"No, it's going OUR way. the pilot is just negotiating with the waves. it will make a turn in a few minutes, you'll see."

Trust the locals. I looked at mf. He was oblivious--just enjoying the salty breeze blowing his frizzy hair making it frizzier, and him, scarier.

I waited. It did not make a turn.

"Why is it not making THAT turn you said?"

"The waves are still difficult to manage. you see, if the driver forces it, the boat will capsize, so he is taking things slowly."

"Are you sure? because i think we REALLY are heading the different direction," I shouted above the humming engine.

PF nodded. I tugged at mf and told him of my dilemma, and he kinda noticed, too, so he also mentioned it to PF. PF began to think because the adventure racer mf already did notice we were going to the OTHER direction. mf was after all an outdoor racer and outdoor racers are particular of directions.

maybe we were really heading the other direction.

Mid-way to the trip PF said, "Well, i guess it's not gonna make a turn. Maybe something went wrong with the RIGHT port so all ferries dock at the OTHER port."

I grinned at PF.

then PF remembers that when we boarded the ferry, we used the "outriggers". the one we're supposed to ride does not load passengers via its outriggers.

tsk. tsk. tsk.

when we got to the port, the swarm of tricycle and habal habal drivers asked where we're headed. when they learned of our mistake, they offered suggestions, specific to their own benefits of course--like driving us from this wrong port all the way to the other right port. which pot dealer-looking male friend took as a good suggestion, actually the best suggestion of all.

"Dude, the last thing you'd want to do is go back there. I don;t want to go back there. It does not feel good. It;s like admitting you were stupidly wrong."

he has a point, though.

but isn't taking a tricycle and paying more to get to that RIGHT direction is adding insult to the injury? rubbing salt to the wound? stupider, huh?

and it's tricycle rides could get really cold and i don;t have a jacket and i am wearing short shorts.

PF says Yes. We should not go back.

so we took the tricycle that took us to the OTHER port where we will get the ride to PF's relative's house.

The ride was there, half empty (or half full?), waiting for us. we got in, the three of us. and waited. mf got impatient, he got off and smoked. PF joined him.

"Dude, i so want to grab the burger from the kid. he honestly made me hungry. i;ve never been this burger hungry in my life," he said, and glanced some more at the kid. PF seconded.

there was a kid eating a burger in across mf's seat. good-smelling fastfood burgers.

"You know, if we went back we could have bought some burgers..." I began.

"Ah, no, no, no. that is a different story," mf says.

And finally the driver gets enough passengers to stuff inside his cranky, walking corten steel jeepney.

We did make it to PF's relative's house before dinner and i think i even cooked spaghetti for my starving associates.