Months ago I was hired as a writer-producer on an 8am to 5am time slot for this Australian media company based in Makati . Since I live in Bulacan, this involved major commuting on my end. Of course, taking the bus would mean more than an hour of travel plus thirty minutes or more of unimaginable traffic and taking the cab won’t make any difference since I’ll still be taking the same EDSA on a rush hour jammed with thousands of private and public vehicles ignoring road signs and beating the red lights like it’s just some decorative sparklers hanging without any purpose. You ask the cab driver to take short cuts and that would imply that you’re giving him the permission to circle on alleys that you’re not familiar with and you just end up a couple hundred bucks broke, still late for work. In short you are left with no other choice but to take the MRT for time efficiency reasons.
Come to think of it, why not take the MRT? It’s only less than twenty minutes if I take it from GMA-Kamuning station which is by the way the most convenient station to take (no long queue of commuters and many skipping trains) to Ayala station where our office is located. Plus it only costs 12 pesos, compared to 30 pesos or more that a bus ride will cost me and the cab fare is entirely not worth discussing anymore.
On the other note, MRT is no heaven at all and believe me when I tell you this. First you have to always be on your toes (you can also do that literally) to watch your belongings, which you’ll never forget for there’s this guy behind the microphone to remind you constantly about pickpockets. Next and the most important part is you always have to be ready for the Amazons! If you happen to be facing the door on the side of the station you’ll be getting a good look of those angry faces nearly smacked down on the glass windows pushing each other like runners for a marathon or whatever , I am not really sure. You can get sweaty and lose all your poise while inside that forsaken trip. You can even get a bit injured since people will be pushing you like how they’d push a door when a bomb is about to explode plus bags of all sizes and materials that poke your back or even bruise your arms. Just to make sure we are on the same page, I am talking about the all female coach of the MRT. Imagine women dressed in crisp corporate suits or dainty day dresses pushing other commuters aside as roughly and as violently as possible. It gets frustrating sometimes cause they’ll try to do the same even if there’s a lot of space available, I guess they’re just caught in the habit.
Then there are those days when you look like a ragged doll being trashed sideways and there’s this other girl who just feels the same frustration your feeling and when you see the look on each other’s faces you’ll just burst into laughter! You start smiling and giggling with a total stranger an instant yet momentary friend.
Every day that train gives me an idea of how miserable it is to be a Spanish sardine jammed in a tin can. Still, every single day I chose to get inside and each ride I either love or hate.
The Daydream Scribbler 