On any given day, it pays to stay cool and even-tempered when you are a commuter such as I am, or else . . .
The moment I step out of the gate of my lodging place, several tri-mobiles are already lined up at both sides of our street (that opens up to the national road). The street narrows down further when vehicles and passersby both pass on, with just a hair’s breath between them.
During rush hours, especially, both vehicle drivers and passersby tend to do as they please, peppering the atmosphere with enough arsenal to trigger temper outbursts, altercations and all. Imagine, tricy-drivers speeding on while passersby barely are on safe ground!
No wonder any ordinance to enforce discipline or “no parking” on both sides of a narrow street must weigh against the primeval drive to earn just a little more for the day - ordinance and discipline be damned. Not to mention accidents waiting to happen.
I avoid those speed-demons fastest way I can.
While waiting for a ride to north of Alabang (Cubao, Makati) or south of (San Pedro, Laguna), there is this evolving phenomenon I watch fascinated each time it occurs: a throng stars to gather in number on one side of a street. Soon the throng thickens still. By some magical force or psychic phenomenon the throng throbs as one fluid force and just cross the street even if the trafficker has yet to give them the go-signal – forcing moving vehicles to a screeching stop.
I do not blame the throng. It is no joke waiting for the trafficker to signal the drivers to move on and let the people cross the street. Who wants to wait for Godot? (The footbridge waits nearby).
No one need ever convince me that the worst time to communt is when it is raining. It spells DELAY in all caps!
When it rains and the bus I am in gets caught up in rain-water, I think biogesic, hot bath and steaming hot coffee, even though the bus is still a long, long way to my destiny, often some 2 hours more, times 2, 3 and 4, of course.
To be fair to nature, I even welcome rains provided they drop intermittently and softly. Somehow the rains diffuse that sickly smell of cologne, sweat and unwashed pants to tolerable level. And while the bus crawls on and my seatmates doze off, I pull out from my bag a pocket book to read through my long ride.
A cool-headed commuter like me tend to be more observant of things that matter or relate to our worsening commuter woes, if I may say so.
So, back to that throng who beat the trafficker in stopping vehicles, I guess that happens when street-crossers get impatient, like enough is enough.
I notice the traffic enforcer allots more time to passing vehicles, keeping those waiting to cross the street feel like they are nothing more than just an afterthought or footnotes.
A former officemate who trained in Austria, told me how in there each bus is allotted only 5 minutes to pick up passengers, then move on. If the bus fails to pick up any passenger in that 5-minutes, sorry. Of course, the actual adoption of such distinctive mark of Austrian discipline is a hard act to follow. Imagine – strict rules, strict compliance.
What about the simple imposition of “No standing” in moving buses? Is this really a question of lack of buses? Which reminds me: I read an article about the former Saigon, South Vietnam where motorbikes are now much in vogue as a preferred mode of transport for even the elite and womenfolk. Motorbikes cost less than cars, definitely and affordable to bigger number of consumers, including commuters like me. If the Vietnamese can change tack, why can’t we?
Well, the answer or answers should say much about us as a people.
