Module 3.1: Transit Rule

Module 3.1: Transit Rule

A Chapter by Oran

 

            Listing of adjustments in life made through Transit Rule...

 

            In Metro Manila, the best friends of a student who lives very far away like me are Utility Vehicles.

 

            It’s a very comfortable means of transportation in the urban jungles of the National Capital Region and probably the greatest innovation in passenger transport ever implemented in this country.

 

            Just kidding!

 

            This country is hell!

 

            No one believes anything is comfortable here!

 

            It all starts with your average engineering student trying to get home to finish the Foundation Plan he made for his Building Construction class.

 

            He has the choice of taking a P.U.V. (Public Utility Vehicle) or a P.U.J. (Public Utility Jeep).

 

            For this simulation, he’ll be picking the former as he falls in line on the usual stop beside his university.

 

            He checks his watch and takes note of the time.

 

            “5:00 PM, August 13, 2015”

 

            The length of the line is 10 persons every 1.8 meters for every row. At the moment, the number of rows in front of him are 7 rows.

 

            Given an average interval of one P.U.V. passing the stop every 9 minutes, the theoretical time it takes for him to be able to board the U.V., assuming that a single U.V. can carry 10 passengers, is 63 minutes, whereas he will have to walk 12.6 meters in addition to the pressure he takes while standing with his bag.

 

            After a long while, he is able to get to the vehicle so he checks the time once again.

 

            “7:23 PM, August 13, 2981”

 

            The actual time it took him to wait is 508,066,877 minutes, meaning that there will always be a percentage error of more or less 806,455,260.317 % when computing for the time it takes for you to be able to board a U.V. in Metro Manila.

 

            And that’s how I ended up in this U.V. heading for the U.V. terminal in S.M. North.

 

            When you’re someone who reads either Fifty Shades of Grey or Nana to Kaoru, you’ll probably think of the other meaning of S.M. when hear about S.M. North.

 

            It’s a common misconception when you’re in the Philippines. S.M. used to mean “Shoe Mart” in the past because it only used to sell footwear, but after a gruelling amount of big business, it has transformed from a lowly specialty store into a high-profit mall, hence the new term, “Super Malls”.

 

            Business boomed for the owner and more and more branches sprouted from out of nowhere, and the next thing you know, they’re cementing the value of their existence on the Filipino population. They no longer focus on the profit because they’ve already made so much money. Instead they focus on their credibility and their importance toward the people until they become a finely knit culture for the people.

 

            In short, I wouldn’t be in this U.V. heading for the terminal if S.M. never made business, and therefore I blame them for making me ride this goddamn cramped-up U.V. that loads up to 10 people when it was only meant for 6 passengers.

 

            I’m at the back seat and the guy beside me does not even possess the courtesy to put down his f*cking bag so that my arse can fit this tiny little space on the seat. He’s playing with a cheap-a*s My Phone made in the Philippines with ear-buds on his probably caved-in ear-holes. His arse is clearly occupying all the space left on the car seat and I’d be very pleased if I could get up and beat him to death with this T-square I just used on my Building Construction class.

 

            What’s worse is that the road is rugged and rocky enough for me to hit my head against the roof of the car. And when the road gets smooth, the U.V. stops and stays stuck in traffic.

 

            Filipino roads always stay the same.

 

            The word “traffic” is used more often than usual in this country. It’s an art form for passengers, actually, when you’re trying to find the right position for your arse on the seat while your balls are scrunched up between your thighs, your bag, and the force of gravity.

 

            Let’s see what we can view to distract myself from the pain...

 

            Ah, yes, the illegal settlers of Metro Manila.

 

            Looking over the window behind me, I see a family of nine, riding a wooden cart, or as it’s called in the Philippines, a “kariton”, while the father pushes it. These people are the life-blood of the overpopulation in the city of Manila. I’m not blaming them for being poor or for being unable to do anything, but I do know for a fact that they shouldn’t be here.

 

            Since back then, I’ve never understood why people have to be so poor and why they have to live in such horrible conditions. All of them breaking their backs every day just for a salary worth 50 pesos is a hellish ordeal in and of itself. An average Filipino person will spend about a thousand pesos per day just to live normally, so for them to stay alive is a miracle to me.

 

            A part of me always wanted to be the one to save them because I’m a Christian, but as of now, I don’t think it would be significant help for them if I were to hand over some of my allowance. It will only cause them to be more dependent and pretty soon their children are going to follow their example to continue the cycle.

 

            See, that’s the problem in our Catholicism.

 

            It’s written in the Holy Gospel that you should give to the poor, but if giving to the poor will cause more poor people, would you still be doing it?

 

            A similar concept applies when you want to stop vendors from selling ducklings. In the Philippines, it’s quite popular among street vendors to sell ducklings painted in different colours and even more popular among elementary students who pass by their illegally stationed stalls. Before these younglings are sold, they’re either soaked in a can of paint or spray-painted into a different hue so they can appeal to the vendor’s costumers. Once they are sold, their lives are left at the hands of elementary schoolers, and let me be the first to say that it doesn’t end well for these poor things.

 

            When you think about this, an obvious solution would be to buy out all the ducklings and set them free, just like what my young brother suggested me when he saw a news report about it. But since the vendor made so much profit from what you did, he’ll probably be back with more of them the very next day.

 

            Buying out these ducklings is the same as buying out someone’s pitiful existence. If it sells very well, they’re going to keep doing it as long as it’s still working.

 

            Ever since the end of World War II, there were numerous attempts of catering to those who are poor in the Philippines, but up until now there are still more poor people than the previous year. So many laws were implemented and so many projects were presented and done, but there have been zero results so far.

 

            That is why I will never blame them, but I will never let my pity for them incite their constant dependence on other people.

 

            The only thing I shall blame for the rest of my short life will be the corrupted leaders in the Filipino government. I’m not the person in charge of judging them, but if I were, I would damn them straight to hell for everything they’ve done. I don’t know what they stole or what they’ve done to innocent people, but I do know that they made a promise: A promise to make this country a better place in general.

 

            They’re the ones who gave us hope, and they’ll be the ones to fail us when they disprove that hope with their actions and their inactions. I’d recite to them all the sh*t they said when they took a sworn oath and spit it in each and every one of their faces before throwing them into the fire.

 

            Still, my anger for them won’t change anything.

 

            My arse is still uncomfortable. My balls are still scrunched. This b*****d still won’t move.

 

            This will take more than a few hours and it’s already 8 PM. I still have homework to do using AutoCad for my foundation plan on Building Construction, but I guess I’m staying up all night to finish it.

 

            I hate you, Philippines.

 



© 2015 Oran


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when hear about S.M. North. = Missing you



Posted 5 Years Ago



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Added on December 21, 2015
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Author

Oran
Oran

Somewhere in the Philippines, My house, Philippines



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