Inkblots

Making It Home

Today, on the fourth day of me being a “fully grown” 24-year-old, I cried.

A year ago, I moved to a cozy apartment near my place of work. The daily trip took me fifteen minutes, which usually consisted of a short walk, a dustless jeepney ride, and another short walk.

Two months ago, my sister started moved in with me. My then cozy apartment started to seem increasingly cramped. When she started work, the daily trip to work consisted of a shared cab ride with my sister, and a short walk to work. Going home took me the same fifteen minute routine as before.

Two saturdays ago, my sister and I moved to a roomier place —much farther from my place of work. Around that time I had already come to terms with the fact that it would take me at least two rides within one hour per destination.

Two days ago, feeling adventurous and quite liking my newly acquired 24-year vibe, I commuted to work for the first time. The trip took me one dryer-effect jeepney ride, one sardine-style bus ride, and a short walk. It cost me forty whole minutes. “Normal traffic” are two words to describe losing forty whole minutes on the road. “Total waste of time” are four.

Yesterday, I left the office later than usual and commuted home — the first time in that general heading. With a little more than the same amount of time as the day before, my trip now consisted of a bus ride, a short walk, a jeepney ride, and one final long walk ..with five flights of stairs to finish it with. The cherry on top of an oh-so-spectacular quarter-hour.

Today, I left the office on time. 45 failed minutes patiently waiting at the loading zone surrounded by properly dressed yet horribly mannered women; 15 failed minutes lined up at the FX terminal that charged 30 pesos for the same distance a jeepney would charge only 7 pesos for; Another 15 failed minutes somewhere between taxi lanes where four different cabbies made each of their I-don’t-want-to-go-that-direction-unless-you-make-an-offer-to-double-the-meter-fare grimace; Five failed minutes listlessly walking around thinking I’d never get home; One glorious second for one miraculously empty jeepney, and; Forty minutes to zero the distance.

As I mustered whatever energy I had left to climb that last flight of stairs, I cried — tired, sticky, and practically willing to fall to the floor if my ego allowed.

Four days of being 24 and all I wanted at that moment was to be back in the place of my childhood..where women act like ladies; where cabbies don’t make silly facial hook-and-bait gestures; where nothing is overpriced; where a jeepney ride will not require a shower after..and where it only takes you fifteen minutes to get home.