It’s almost seven in the evening, and no one’s home yet. This surprises me. People here haven’t gone somewhere for so long since… March, I guess. If it were March – which, obviously, it isn’t – I would have been busy watching television to even notice. Ah. This is interesting. Anyway, I’m really writing this one on the couch right now; reading the words out loud as I proceed with the rest of the entry. It actually sounds more interesting thing than to write a From a Buick 8 chapter four review.
We went to the airport yesterday to fetch our father. The cab ride made me rather giddy, indeed. I was sweating like a little pig, but I couldn’t move because I was afraid I might throw up. Thinking about that now makes me even dizzier. Also, I think I’d like to have a cheeseburger and some fries right now. I was too busy to appreciate the cheeseburger that I had last night. And I accidentally dropped the fries to the floor before I could even finish the whole thing. Seems like a month ago now. Anyway, I never want to go back to an air-conditioned car anymore. I don’t think I will ever be present in any field trip again after that.
It must have been a quarter to nine in the evening when we reached the airport. Believe me: I was too stressed out to even walk. I was a Jell-O, sagging with every step. I’m telling you, it was like field trip all over again. It’s definitely not the first time I got carsick – to the point that I almost puked my guts out. I get to pass that state every class field trip, and every time I get inside cabs. But at least this time, I got a little rest as I was eating the fries – which, again, I dropped to the floor. And as I was thinking about Noynoy Aquino’s proclamation (which happened today), and contemplating about whoever killed Ninoy, I finally went into a little cat nap.
I woke up jut a few minutes before Papa sent a text message saying he had already arrived – and Bet was gone, off to the mini-Jollibee inside the waiting area. Number 41; mango peach pie, I remember. I bought a bottle of mineral water at Koperetto, which was a fucking cold place. The drink actually cost me twenty-five pesos. >_> And I didn’t even get to drink it all (threw it before I could finish, actually). Following all those hubbubs – and with Bet’s mango peach pie served after what seemed like hours – we looked for Papa. I was only glad to get out of the steamy sections of the airport, fetch my father and ditch Duty Free (I really only went inside to look for a Reader’s Digest or WWE Magazine. Turns out there weren’t any, sucks), and go on with the rest of my life – leaving behind the wonderful people who will never remember my face after that night.
The best part of the night was when we got into our own car, opened the windows (for the air-conditioner was hot – imagine!), and sped off towards home. Miraculously, I wasn’t dizzy any longer (I now seriously am thinking about buying a convertible five years from now). Fresh air was rushing inside the car. Wind furiously whipped against my face. City lights were surreal. It was kind of noisy though. And one car let out exhaust right on my face. There was even this one time when I woke up and – what the hell?! – some guy’s tire was gritting really loudly on the freeway! Right. Next. To. Me.
But at least we got home. Then I partied until dawn – it was the second time I’ve done so throughout the whole summer. Badass, huh? \__(*;*)/
Oh well, I'm still kind of sore. We’ll be going to two more escapades on the tenth. Then again on the twelfth. I doubt you'd be interested to read either adventure. Anyway, I hope I still catch you soon, duder.
lovekat
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