| Cigarettes and Wooden Bars |
[Friday, 29 August 2008|23:32] |
|
Tonight, i was going to watch *blushes* For the First Time. I wasn't able to go because i went to jail!
I didn't get to watch the movie, but my version of "First Time" came to mind:
ENTRY: 2006-05-30: A Little Brush with the Law
Every so often, I leave the house lighting one stick. Usually, the cigarette lasts for seven minutes; assuming I get on a jeepney after two minutes, I would be smoking four or five more minutes inside the puj. That happens everyday, everytime I go somewhere.
Today, it was different. I was so used to that habit, seriously, and little did I know that I was actually violating a city ordinance. I didn’t know of it until some guy stopped the jeepney and asked me to get down, saying I couldn’t smoke in a PUV, and that I had to get on the police car (or police vehicle because it didn’t really look like a car.)
Of course it didn’t really sink in immediately that I was being held by the authorities for real. For a while, I was half-expecting that Ashton Kutcher would suddenly appear. Five minutes inside the police vehicle, with an insipid officer that made no sense whatsoever, made me realize that I wasn’t being Punk’d.
Being a literary freak that I am (or maybe just an incessant blogger), the first thought that entered my mind was: “how will I write about this?” The fun thing about being a writer, and an all-time performer, is that given any bad experience, grotesque or just plain embarrassing, I have this delayed initiation of the panic mode. I was even preparing for a speech in case I get interviewed by some famous media personality.
The second thought that crossed my mind was: “how do I get out this?” A number of options popped up, of course.
a. the facial stipulation of pity: this involves the panultimate combo of ‘bambi eyes’ and ‘pouting lips’. And then I realized I might only get a smack on the face instead of an actual sympathy.
b. then there was the “powerful connection” brought by either blood relation or mere association. I could say my sister’s boyfriend is a PMAer (true); my mom is super friends with former president Fidel Ramos (semi-true); my dad knows a lot of high-ranking officials from WPD (not true); I am related to former president Cory Aquino (not true either).
c. The “intelligent civilian” tactic. Being educated, and really smart, I could use reasoning to get out of it. I could tell the officer: “The jeepney was empty, which meant I wasn’t disturbing other passengers with my smoking. That being said, the ordinance does not really apply to my context, Mr. Officer, and thus, rendering me innocent of any kind of violation.” But then again, the policeman may not understand me and just assume everything I said was a form of subtle assault (perhaps to his intellect), and therefore negating my chances of being let go altogether.
d. Lastly, the first-offence card. I am no longer a minor, but I’m still a student, which meant that I have something to be clean for, legally speaking. Being a student with no record whatsoever is something to be taken advantage of, and we already know that.
The third thought that I had was: “if I don’t get out of it fast, what will happen to me inside the jail?”
Rape!!!! Waaahhh….
The prison… That collective condition of squalor caged within bars. I couldn’t think anymore, my mind was plagued with malicious possibilities. The shame!!!
The fourth thought that I had occurred when we were already inside a hospital, for our medico-legal examination (we had some medical professional signing a sheet of paper that says we did not have any external wound upon inspection). The thought was: “there was this semi-gorgeous guy with us, how do I talk to him?”
I could’ve asked, “What are you in for?” But I realized it sounded stupid. After a few mentally tried questions, I gave up with the idea. I thought, what if we end up together, and we have kids, and grandchildren. What if my grandkids ask how we met?
Meeting someone’s acquaintance where a police car is involved makes things very complicated. It’s just something one can’t be proud of.
The moment i arrived in the police station, i was asked to make my one-phone call. I called up my lawyer-sister.
"Anong nangyari?"
"Nasa police station ako."
"Baket?"
"Basta. Sasabihin mo ba kina papa?"
"Malamang. saan ba yan?"
[afterthought: ask ko kaya ateh ko dalhin ang camera? *checks the station for possible backgrounds* malamang naman ipo-post ko ito, bakit hindi pa kumuha ng pichoor for documentation?]
I waited, sitting on a bench. the policemen were nice enough not to put me literally behind the wooden bars, well not yet. i wasn't scared of being in jail, i was more scared of what my Dad would say when he arrives.
Then i saw my lawyer-sister walk in. Then my mom... Then my dad, wearing his signature unibrow-frowned face. I could just die of humiliation. Noooo... please God, not like this. I'm a grown man, and yet, my parents still scare the shit out of me.
My mom started her litany on why i should be let go. Future. Medicine. Graduating. Words i heard while sitting in the corner, embarassed.
One of the cops saw me, and he actually said, "Wag kang mahiya, nanay mo siya. Alam niya ang sinasabi niya. Wala kang magagawa, ganyan talaga."
In the end, it was obvious i would be let go. Bright future. That's what was said. Something i find ironic. People with bad future don't have it fair. The law says, "if you have a bad future, we'll make it worse for you." Besides, what does it mean bright future? Mother dear, inang mahal, i don't even know what the future holds. Gusto ko na lang mag-artista, to be honest. And you know in showbiz, one day you're in, the next day you're out! Of course i couldn't say that outloud, it wouldn't really help my case. So, for the first time, i guess in a long while, i... for the first time i... [this is hard to spell out]... for the first time i shut up!
After an hour, it was over, the four of us left the police station. Then casually, my mom asked how i was caught. My dad even joked that he thought i peed in public. We all laughed. This is not how i imagined family bonding to be.
|
|
chipper
creative
scared
