Dogbert’s Whip

There’s something about early morning rides in the Metropolitan Railway Transit (MRT) that makes me think of fertilization and zygotes. I often imagine the MRT train as an elongated ovum of metal chunks, eagerly anticipated by throngs of sperm cells disguised as disgruntled commuters, hoping to beat the early morning rush. In paced intervals, the train comes (no pun intended) in an anti-climactic halt, greeted by the reverberating orgasmic groans of overly eager passengers. As the doors spread wide open in a single enticing slide, people start to elbow each other on their way inside, hoping to catch the remaining space on the seats.

Once you step inside the train, it’s a virtual anatomy lesson. This morning, for example, I made the following observations: To my anterior was a slightly obese woman with frisky hair and drab, brown outfit. Her hefty glutes, which protrude like twin gigantic boils on a barren plain, would shame Jennifer Lopez to retirement. Beads of sweat started to form on my brow as I struggled hard not to brush her gargantuan bum with my, uhm, pelvic region. The last thing that I needed was a middle-aged hag shouting “Manyak! Manyak! Manyak!” while slapping the bejeezus out of me.

On either sides were two men who were taller than I am (Yes, I’m really insecure about my height, by the way). As fate would have it, both men habitually cleared their throats with icky phlegm. Since both men held on the ceiling railing, their sweaty axillary regions were within a few centimeters from my face. On my posterior were various objects (handbags, file folders, etc.) and body parts (elbows, “bosoms,” “heads,” etc.) poking me like tree stumps. However I didn’t dare turn my head back. I was too scared to get my nose on another man’s hairy armpit.

As the train drags on its tracks, I entertain myself with weird thoughts to distract myself from my predicament. A typical scenario that plays in my mind is this—

DAUGHTER: Itay, may sasabihin po ako sa inyo… (long pause with quivering lips)… buntis po ako… (tears flowing like the Amazon)

DAD: (initial shock lasts for about 30.26 seconds) Umamin ka! Sino ang p***ng inang lalaki ang may kagagawan nyan?!? (shakes the daylight out of his daughter)

DAUGHTER: Hindi ko po alam… (wipes snot on her sleeve)

DAD: Punyeta! Paano nangyari yun?

DAUGHTER: Mabilis po ang mga pangyayari; sumakay lang po ako ng MRT…

Call it corny or nonsense but this scenario makes me laugh. What if people can actually do it inside the MRT? What if a nymphomaniac decides to rape a clueless gal, with the latter not even aware that it happened? Since it’s so freaking crowded inside, what if people around them wouldn’t even notice? I know; it’s too far off. But when you’re almost always bored like I am, these absurd thoughts will start to make sense.

Any regular MRT commuter will agree that you’ll never feel more violated in your life once you step out the train. Even if the experience lasts for but a few minutes, it’s enough time for countless people to press their warm and smelly bodies against your once shower-fresh self and immaculately pressed office garb. When you finally reach your work place, you’re all sweaty, ruffled, and miserable. Sadly, since the MRT provides the fastest and most economical way to go from QC to Makati in less than an hour, I’m probably doomed to relive the experience day after day until I save enough moolah to buy my own ride. I’m aware that it may take me an eon or two to fulfill this. But keep in mind that that there are other immoral and/or illegal ways to fulfill this (think: carnapping or robbing a bank). I just might resort to that once I get desperate enough.

On the bright side, I may not have realized that now is certainly not the right time to consider scary concepts like marriage and babies if not for my bumpy early morning rides aboard the MRT. I guess contending with unbearable riding conditions is a far more attractive option that a screaming baby waiting to be bottle fed. In the meantime, I’ll concede to the carnal advances of my co-passengers and refrain myself from wanting to become the next nameless guy who sired another bastard in the crowded train.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, May 11th, 2005 at 3:10 am and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.