Whoever guesses where my last line is based on is cool in my book

I found so many things to complain about today. I snapped at everyone I could think of to snap at – the server who forgot to take my order and then at another, because my chicken was undercooked.

I was cussing nonstop inside the car because I was stuck in the Ayala tunnel, alone, for two hours, with barely a millimeter of gas (I had no idea it was the last day of the Pyro Olympics so the traffic was insane. It was just out of this world). I was being bitter and thinking of the damage all those fireworks must have made on the already tepid Manila Bay water. It made me think of how my family and I spent New Year’s Eve in Boracay, how it was so windy I had to tuck my dress into my shorts because it was blowing all over the buffet table. When the fireworks started, I saw that they were all coming from a little boat that was anchored a couple of meters away from the shoreline, which made me think that it was one hell of a job to take on – to do nothing but light wicks for half an hour straight and subject oneself to all that smoke and the smell of burning (not to mention the danger of it all) just to make people ooh and aah and then, eventually, forget all about it and go back to eating cold roast beef and drinking the really bad champagne. And how, in the middle of all that, an American boy started lighting baby rockets too near the tables until a concerned father told him to either quit it or leave. The boy decided that he couldn’t handle being scolded and so, in an act of idiotic defiance, he lit a couple of baby rockets in the direction of the father who scolded him. Naturally, it incensed a number of people and the beach security came running. They put the minor in handcuffs, just to scare him, I suppose. And then I thought, Man, that is one hell of a story to tell your friends when you go back to America. The first being that how crazy is it that you can just buy cheap firecrackers anywhere and light it at any old place you want. The second being, “I got arrested and I’ve got pictures of me in handcuffs to prove it.” Way to start the New Year, kid.

So that’s what I was thinking about while I was stuck in the tunnel with a millimeter of gas.

Then I realized that I had passed a total of 5 stalled cars. All the owners were standing by their smoking hoods and on the phone. Thank god for cellular phones. Also, three vendors who were “regulars” in that tunnel were yelling at each other for I don’t know what reason. I wanted to open the window but I realized that I would be letting in a lot of smoke. And then I thought about how the vendors managed to take care of themselves – major traffic jam = more customers = smoke = sickness.

Then, of course, I realized I was being such a brat the whole day and told myself to shut up and stop complaining. I was in an airconditioned car, with relatively good music, a comfortable house to come home to, a family, and a tall glass of water.

And it was still cold.