Dogbert’s Whip

My first two weeks of the Year of the Dog were spent in car-chasing and tongue-wagging mode. First off, I took this Basic Safety Course in a training center somewhere in Roxas Blvd. The lectures started at seven in the morning, which meant that I had to wake up extra early just to beat the pesky traffic in España and Taft. And so for each day for two straight weeks, I chased many Buendia-bound FX taxis in Philcoa as early as 5:45 am. Nowadays, most of us would prefer riding the FX over stinky buses and the hopelessly crammed LRT and MRT. As a result of this, it took me eons to get a ride, and unwittingly made me one of the “Tardy Boys” for each lecture day.

Tardy Boys in the training seminar are not allowed to take a seat or sign the attendance sheet unless they entertain the class with a song-and-dance number. In one particularly humiliating day, I had to garble the inane lyrics of a certain Masculados hit (“Lagot ka, lagot ka! Huling-huli ka… may kasama kang iba…”) as I performed wooden, calisthenic-like choreography amid condescending hoots and chuckles of laughter. Being late does not come as a surprise for me since I’m almost always tardy whenever I show up for my current work in Makati. But somehow, I realized that salary deductions are better punishment options compared to quasi-artistic performances. That’s probably the reason why I became a technical person, rather than a budding artist, in the first place. But then again, I’m just rationalizing.

Although I thought the safety seminar would be a complete drag, it turned out to be an enjoyable experience. There were exercises involving the administration of Cardio-Pulmonary Resuscitation (CPR) on a female mannequin named “Resusci-Anne.” My classmates thought I did a great job trying to revive the “victim,” saying that my performance was worth a slot in the Star Circle Teen Quest. Then there were activities on fire fighting where I got to be the second “nozzle man,” sea survival techniques where they taught us how to huddle together and board a life raft, and my all-time favorite, the Helicopter Underwater Escape Training or the HUET.

The HUET is very much like a Fear Factor stunt. In the exercise, one is strapped inside a decoy of a helicopter cabin as it is lowered in a deep swimming pool. In a simulated capsizing of the chopper, the cabin will suddenly flip 180° over, resulting to panic, disorientation and the rush of cascading water inside the cabin. Once the pressure inside the sinking helicopter is stabilized, the person inside would have to open the emergency window, unhook his seatbelt, and swim afloat to safety. Sounds simple, eh? But no! Most of us were dead scared of the stunt to the point of hypertension. On the day of the HUET practicum, I think I may have annoyed God Himself from my constant mental whining slash prayers. And when the instructor informed me that I was to take the practical exam first since my surname starts with an A, I moaned at why my dad didn’t have a Castillan-sounding surname like Zuñiga, Zalameda or Zaldarriaga.

I really don’t know if it’s the sheer volume of adrenalin that pumped into my veins, or if it’s just plain divine intervention, but somehow, I escaped the HUET unscathed! The great thing about going first is that when you screw up, you’ll have convenient excuses for doing so (i.e., nerves, unfamiliarity, etc.). But if you’ll pull it off, you’ll look so damn good and earn a great deal of pogi points in the process. “Ang galing mo naman… ikaw na nga ang nauna tapos very good pa…,” people would compliment you. “Wala yun, sinwerte lang…,” you would answer back in mock humility.

While it may seem that my first two weeks of 2006 were pure merriment, a phone call from my brother one late night briefly interrupted my peaceful life. I readily knew that it was an emergency since my brothers and I hardy call each other over the phone. My brother told me that my mom just had surgery to have her gall bladder removed, and that I shouldn’t worry because the operation was successful. Of course I knew he was telling me the truth, but somehow, I felt guilty for not being by my mom’s side.

That same Saturday night, I was having supper with my self-proclaimed techie ex-officemate, the Queen of Pain and Tardiness (QPT). It was our first meeting of the year, and what we expected to be a light conversation about the past holiday season and my misadventures in the training seminar turned out to be melodramatic session about our moms. See, QPT’s mom is about to go to the States to work as a nurse. We realized that both of us haven’t been spending enough time with our respective mothers, and that often, in the fast-paced urban rat race, we tend to forget the simple joys of being at home with loved ones.     

I went home to Pampanga first thing the next day and kept my mom company in the hospital. We chatted the whole time, and in between stories about my basic safety training and my current career plans, I gobbled up most of the ensaymada that I originally intended to give her. I also ate a couple of chicos and Fuji apples that relatives brought her. Well, don’t look at me; the doctors gave strict orders not to give her any food or liquid, and I was starving in that hospital room beyond relief.   

By night time, I had to leave since I still had to pack my stuff back in Manila. The next day, I’ll have to be in Roxas Blvd. by 5:30am since our training will resume in a boot camp in Tanza, Cavite. Being late on that day meant missing the shuttle service to Tanza and commuting all by myself to the training site. Before leaving, I playfully informed my mom that I was going to take part in the dreaded HUET that coming week, and that I was chicken scared of the prospect of panic drowning. Like any mom to her son, she assured me that I’m the best kid in the world and there’s absolutely no challenge that I cannot hurdle.

Sheesh… mothers. They’re simply the best. J     

This entry was posted on Monday, January 16th, 2006 at 9:12 pm 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.