The following is a story of sorts that could only happen to me. If I was from the Deep South, it would begin with “ya’ll ain’t gonna believe this shit”, but since I’m not, it won’t.
It is, however, a True Story.
The Wife and I had an incident happen this past Monday that was both a little strange and weird at the same time, but in the long run made me laugh. Before I can get fully into it, let me introduce you to my brother-in-law Bernie.
Bernie is a rice farmer, and lives in a two room house deep in the provinces of Central Luzon in the Philippines. He works from sun up to sun down taking care of his rice crop, and because of his occupation, he’s built like someone who is not a stranger to hard physical labor. The man is thin but what there is of him is solid, strong, hard. While he is absolutely no one you would want to mess with, he’s also a hell of a lot of fun to be around. Amazing with children, laughs easily, enjoys life. Needless to say, I like and admire the hell out of him.
This past Monday evening, I had to go to Manila to board the plane that brought me back to Guam. The wife was of course going to take me to the airport, and Bernie and his wife wanted to tag along to the big city as well. We took tricycles (motorcycles with sidecars) to the nearby village, rode a Jeepney for a couple of miles, and eventually boarded the bus that took us all out of the provinces into Manila.
The trip was uneventful until we got into Manila. Wife and I talked and held on to each other, getting ready to deal with being temporarily separated while she undergoes continuing medical treatment. Bernie and his wife were also using it as a time to be somewhat alone, to talk and just hang out together.
The bus arrived at Cubao Station in central Manila, and from there we all got in the taxi that would take us out to the airport. The plan was to drop me off, then The Wife, Bernie and his wife would head back out to the provinces. My wife does this because she worries about me going to Manila by myself, which is both a little annoying and touchingly sweet at the same time.
It started getting weird when we got into the taxi that would take us from Cubao Station to the airport. Our driver was a young guy who happened to like what could be called thrash metal or death metal music. In fact, he liked it so much that he was singing along with the CD that he was playing, oblivious to the four middle aged passengers he was taking to the airport. Now I’m a fan of all types of music, but this sounded more like shouting than singing, so I was a little bit annoyed. I kept my peace, focusing on the last remaining moments I would be able to spend with my wife for the next month-six weeks.
We finally end up at the airport, and all of us jump out of the taxi. My wife takes note of the amount on the meter, and tips the driver an additional 25% on top of the fare, just because she has a good heart and knows that people work hard. This is in spite of the annoyance that Thrash Metal Boy caused us with his choice of music and the horrible singing along to his little ditties of death and hate.
Apparently, a 25% tip was displeasing to Thrash Metal Boy, because he said something I could not understand to my wife. At that moment, I started easing my way between my wife and the asshole in question, seeing if he had enough nerve to say to me whatever the hell it was he was saying to my wife. While I am not a violent person by nature, insulting my wife is not a good way to maintain a healthy lifestyle. I was more than fully prepared to get White Boy Crazy on his ass if I had to, even if it meant missing my flight to have my foot removed from his ass.
It was at that moment that Bernie stepped in front of me and got within about 18 inches of this retarded taxi drivers face. He said something that I didn’t understand in Tagalog to the driver, a short simple phrase, stated very softly but in a tone that didn’t require translation. It was at that very moment that Thrash Metal Boy realized that he was in some rather serious danger, turned around and walked back to his taxi and left.
After I said my goodbyes to Bernie and his wife, the wife and I had our goodbye. It was then that I asked her what exactly Bernie had said to the driver. She told me “He told him to just walk away.”
Just walk away. A simple phrase that at that moment meant “Just walk away or be prepared to meet God in the very near future.”
For some reason, I couldn’t stop laughing, and five days later still find it amusing as hell.
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