Commuter Tales No. 1: Hell Hath No Fury Like a Woman with an Umbrella

Commuter Tales INTRO

I grew up on a jeepney.

I grew up riding public transportation: the ubiquitous tricycles in San Jose, Occidental Mindoro, the jazzed-up “patok” jeepneys of Montalban to the lumbering yellow buses of San Mateo, Rizal. As a loyal “pasahero” I have had quite a number of memorable experiences within those confined spaces of public conveyances that I decided to collect them as a series of vignettes which I originally planned to release as an ashcan comix (who knows? It may yet happen). I thought: “if Harvey Pekar can do it, so can I!”.

Harvey Pekar of “American Splendor” can attract top talents, however and I, on the other hand, is only limited to a bunch of people I could force to draw for me for a song: namely my brother, Mannie and my brother, Mannie. (Who is always perennially busy, by the way.)

I decided therefore, to just release the darn thing anyway in the form of blog entries. So here it is. Hope you enjoy them. (Yes, I’m talking to the two of you.)


Commuter Tales No. 1: HELL HATH NO FURY LIKE A WOMAN WITH AN UMBRELLA

I’m very bad at remembering names. I could remember a face very well but somehow I often fail at supplying the correct name for a particular face.

There was this time when a middle-aged woman tried to start a conversation with me on a jeepney while I was on my way to work. She was a heavy-set woman with a large friendly face. She appears to be on the way to the market because she was holding a large “bayong” (market bag) and an umbrella. The woman also seems she knows my mother. She asked about her, and I told her my mom was OK.

Then without further ado, she paid for my fare, along with hers.

Since she beat me to the draw of paying the fare(not that I will pay for her fare but I was more than willing to reimburse her, only she wouldn’t hear any of it), I now felt a debt of gratitude to her. I had to keep the conversation she started, going. I had to nod and smile and try to appear interested in everything she says even if in back of my mind I was still trying to fit the puzzle of “connect the face with a name”.

Of course, now that the lopsided conversation---it was mostly her talking with me nodding my head with a few 'ah-huhs' here and there---has gone on for a while, it puts me in a quandary. It would just be a tad too impolite to interrupt her and ask her what’s her name. Why, that would mean, I wasn’t really listening to her since I could not place her story within a proper context of how I knew her. Besides, I had pretended I knew her the moment she called my attention. Ah, what to do?

Meanwhile, another woman went on board the jeepney. She was about the same age as my benefactor but the thick make-up and frilly dress she wore invites everyone to believe she was younger than she was. When my benefactor saw her, the latter clammed up. Alas, some peace and quiet for the rest of my journey, I thought.

It was a short trip, by the way: just under four kilometers. It only appeared longer because I had to carry the conversation along during lulls and…well, I thought, I had paid for my fare by being a polite conversationalist.

Then my friendly benefactor, the one with a shining benevolent face and St.-Francis-of-Assissi smile suddenly turned red in the face and turned her attention to the new passenger. The sheep was turning into a wolf. A big, bad, pissed-off, take-no-prisoners wolf.

“Where is my husband?” she shrieked. Yes, shrieked. I could swear I saw her fangs glisten. Now, everyone’s attention was on them. The newly-arrived passenger turns out to be the concubine of my benefactor’s husband. They started exchanging heated words inside the jeepney.

Then it started to get ugly. My wolf started to jab the concubine with the pointed end of her long umbrella. The concubine was feisty too but her umbrella was too short so she resorted to deflecting the jabs and retaliated through taunts and verbal attacks.

I could feel the dagger looks of the rest of the passengers on me. I can hear them think: "Why don't you stop the crazy woman? Don't you know her? Didn't she just pay your fare?". STOP HER. Do something! I tried to pacify the wolf but since I never really knew her or even her name before this fateful jeepney ride, I could not come up with an appropriate summoning or spell that would divert her attention from her homicidal tendencies. Whenever I try to deflect her umbrella from hitting the concubine, I was liable to injure the other passengers. So I just decided to hold the umbrella firmly to prevent it from being used as a deadly weapon. I was grappling with the umbrella as my benefactor was about to lunge at the throat of the other woman.

Finally, the jeepney screeched to a halt. The driver has had enough. He could not let these women fight inside his jeepney. He ordered them to get off.

The wolf-woman went down to the sidewalk. She was still itching for a fight and was looking forward to smashing the face of the concubine to the street. (She said so.) But the concubine wouldn't budge. She knew couldn't last two minutes with my transfigured benefactor. She told the driver to floor it.

But the wolf immediately got wind of the plan. With both hands, she grabbed hold of the handle bars at the back end of the jeep and screams at the driver (yes, screams that even the people three blocks away seems to have been awakened from their slumber) that if the concubine does not get off the jeepney, she would let herself get dragged by the jeep.

More dagger looks. The people on the streets, including, whom I suspect to be the old grannies who were sleeping three blocks away start to congregate near the ruckus.

It was quite a scene. The woman was willing to get dragged by the jeepney if she couldn't get her claws on the neck of the other woman. I repeatedly pleaded to my wolf "tama na po, tama na po" ("That's enough, ma'am. That's enough.") as I try to pry her claws---I mean fingers---from the handle bars. But she was beyond reason! There's a crazed glint in her eyes. I felt she couldn't care less about how she looks or sounded, she's going to have her revenge---either inside or outside the jeepney.

A few seconds of distraction wherein our protagonist releases her vise grip on the metal bars of the jeep was enough for the driver to speed away.

The driver and the other passengers laughed so hard but I couldn't join them. The other woman was still in the jeep and I couldn't be that insensitive. The other passengers tried to felicitously ask the other woman whether she was hurt but I couldn't join them, because after all---I was friends with the enemy. My benefactor was left biting the dust but I couldn't join her: heck, I didn't know her and besides...I might be late for work.

I hang my head in shame for the rest of the trip never uttering another word. It was just about two kilometers but it was a very long two kilometers.



Now, when I ride the jeep, I try to pay my fare immediately before looking at the faces of the other passengers. It's a lesson well-learned.