A local emigre had announced it quite empathically, “Welcome to English
weather.” Never been to London I said, but I totally get it. Heading home later
that same night and traversing some roads threatened to be flooded any
moment, I’m thinking, will I go back to that one memorable moment I had back
then in San Juan? During that one time in the late 80s and heading home
after a singing gig, the cab I was riding stopped suddenly. The driver had
refused to go any farther. The way to our house (with its warm lights already
in sight) was already waist-deep in creek water. So I got out, took off my
cowboy boots (standard gig-wear then), slung it over my shoulders along with
my hard-cased guitar and made my fateful crossing. No mean feat that,
especially when the water is threatening to pull you all the way down to Pasig
River.
This time however, my late evening ride was smooth and fast, with only a few
cars brave enough to face the heavy rains. If only I could, I’d stop in front of
the stranded commuters we passed along the way, but they were just too
many. For a while, I tried to look for anyone I might know, getting ready to
alert the driver to stop the cab. But in the steady downpour, with streaks
tapping at the window, it has proven not possible. So we drove on, with air-
con set to one and me and my guitar comfortable and snug in the back.
Once home, showered quickly in cold water for body temperature balance, but
most especially to take out the stench of red horse and Tanduay. The
following morning, the matey said ceremoniously I had again left the keys still
hanging by the knob. Aside from that slight bummer, it had been a
memorably-cold Wednesday indeed; one lady we met during a short errand
had told us (ala-Helen Davila) this weather we’re having would be in for three
days but it was already day 2, as if we should be thankful for that!
Meanwhile, back at the ranch (er house), while we monitored happenings on
the news, practically all the rivers region-wide had been declared under red
alert status and our most reliable weather update station Facebook, with its
countless newscasters (and doomsayers) was steadily calling out the
numbers, making it feel as though we were witnesses to a boxing match. After
checking on relatives and friends if they were all right, we then prayed for the
increasing victims of flooding and landslides. Come evening, in the rain and
cold, for the first time, I slept with a thick coat on as we put out extra blankets.
By breakfast, it seemed to be all a dream. As we sipped our coffee, the
window by the table suddenly brightened and I turned to my son, Ahhh look,
the sun finally, feeling like Noah. At last, we’re over that bloody English
weather. I better be right I thought, I have to go downtown again later for
another evening gig. Another soggy pair of shoes coming up.
