Jupiter Falls

Stuck in traffic, I stare outside the car window and into the lightning show illuminating the night sky. Oddly enough, the lightning bolts possess a certain golden hue, something Iâ€™ve never seen before. It has always been neon white and neon indigo, never neon green nor neon red, and certainly not neon gold. Even as I count the seconds for the complementary thunder to arrive, I see another golden bolt streak down to earth.

So, itâ€™s real after all. My eyes arenâ€™t deceiving me.

Gold lightning.

Actually, I canâ€™t care less if itâ€™s a freak of science, nature gone mad, or simply a portent of a coming storm. The only thing I care about right now â€“ the thing eating up my thought and patience â€“ is the 300-pound gorilla sitting right next to me inside the FX Megataxi. He arrogantly enforces the authority given â€“ no, mandated â€“ by his extreme obesity to take up every inch of seating space and crush a 130-pound runt against the car door. The runt, of course, is me. When I give him a side-glance, he drools saliva even while wide awake. He plumbs the depth of his nose with a big, fat finger with reckless bravery that puts Indiana Jones to shame. He clears his throat with such ruckus that youâ€™ll think the taxi seat was his throne.

No bad blood between me and obese people, but this human being is as inconsiderate as one can get â€“ his legs as huge as baobab trunks, he spreads them open at a ridiculous angle (yes, 180 degrees!), costing the FX driver two more seats worth of passengers, a flat tire (sooner than later), and a seething, disgruntled customer. The latter, of course, is me.

With every bump on the road, every bump of my head on the car roof, and every bump of my seatmateâ€™s mammoth knee against mine, I can feel it building up inside me â€“ that wonderful sensation which obscures my sight with a miasma of bloody red and causes my clenched fist to inexplicably quiver and shake and just plain look menacing.

The human beside me is sick; he makes me sick. He makes me mad. He makes me bad. And so did my scowling seatmate earlier on the jeepney ride. And so did the bus passengers looking down scornfully on the waiting commuters on the street, jeering at pretty boys and whistling at pretty girls. And so did him, and so did her, and so did everybody around me.

The crimson haze gets redder, and the clenched fist starts to drip imaginary blood.

The taxi screeches to a halt. Red light. A street vendor, a guy barely out of his teens, hastily approaches the FX driverâ€™s window and peddles his rags. I canâ€™t hear what heâ€™s mouthing; the driver doesnâ€™t roll down the window, looking straight ahead at the cars in front, fingers doing the counting of worn paper bills. The vendor continues to mouth something.

Suddenly, the driver rolls down the window with furious jerks of his arm. â€œWhat did you say?â€ he shouts to the face of the vendor. â€œYou were going to wipe my face with your rags?!â€

The boy vendor shakes his head in response, a little smirk imprinted on his face.

â€œYou son of b*tch!â€ The driver motions to open the door even as he spews out some more cusswords. â€œGago ka!â€ The vendor scurries away and disappears amongst the maze of cars, leaving the driver red-faced and short of breath.

I pause in my thoughts; my mind goes blank. I take a deep breath, so deep I end up gasping for air. Staring at the back of the irate driver’s head, I try to think of something, to justify anything, to vilify everything. But there is nothing.

Car horns blare. Green light. The driver composes himself, and the taxi lurches forward.

My eyes wander to the swaying crucifix hanging from the rearview mirror. Its motion oscillates with the vehicleâ€™s mood â€“ one second, the crucifix threatens to subdue my senses with its gentle, hypnotizing motion; the next moment, the crucifix violently jerks from left to right, a frenzied dance for a frenzied night.

After a while, whether from strain or shame (or both), I shift my view from the crucifix to the dark, roiling skies outside the car window.

Watching the jagged, aurulent bolts strike down from the heavens, and hearing the Olympian rumblings which follow, it finally dawns upon me.

This world has too much thunder and lightning.

24 comments so far. Subscribe to comments feed.

nice… the thunder, the words…

in your anger, you’re still kind for not wishing heavens to hit the guy next to you with golden lightning.

I suggest you watch out for the next Amelia Lapena Bonifacio Literary Contest.

Sali ka!

to sunset_eyes: thanks.

to abaniko: well…one can look at it that way, i guess ;)

to drakulita: seems the site’s exceeded its allowed bandwidth. i’ll check it again later. thanks :) sali ka din!!

sometimes… we enjoy watching lightning as we keep warm indoors. but lives aren’t just about watching spectacles and beings spectators.

cool ng golden lightning. but i’m more a silver person. :P

to ia: true. sometimes, you’ve just got to place yourself directly under the stormy sky and take the risk.

not literally, i guess. ;)

i loved the lightning…
hate commuting…

hey, that rhymes! :P

to claudzki: LOL! ;) It is a pretty pic.

well, at least that’s better than driving alone, and worry about carnappers.

when you see gold lightning with green polka dots let me know :)

You got a very nice way of writing. Interesting blog in a world filled with all kinds of boring blogs. I ll visit you again.

to olrayt: i do live in quezon city, carnapping capital of the philippines. haha.

polka dots? might as well include pinstripes, too. ;) don’t worry, you’d be the first to know.

to viruswitch: thank you very very much, i appreciate it. i hope you’d also enjoy your future visits :)

I prefer silver lightning.
I didn’t notice you speak filipino until you said “gago ka” :)

i prefer silver…nonetheless, bless you for not being crushed. count to ten and think other way around that you are lucky and not experiencing emotional hunger and obese. :-)

to euian: hehe! well, i prefer silver, too; it’s just that i saw gold for the very first time. thanks for dropping by.

to gari: thanks. i’ll heed that advice, promise.

your words speak my “opinion” of annoying obese people, especially the ones who take up a lot of space in the fx taxi and spreads their legs as if they have big balls to protect (why do men do this by the way). plus they sweat like…oops! ok enough na, hera.

this is nice, very nice. as always.

wow. you write so…well. i think im gonna visit here always. :D

galing mo rin palang magsulat e! hehe lahat ng nababasa q d2 ang gaganda! dapat kaw na lang gumagawa ng mag papers q! hehe. hai nako o cge po dami pang gagawin eh.. hehe. wow naman daming fans ah! hehehe. merry christmas!!!!!!!!!

to hera: LOL! take it from me: men are so protective of their balls, to the point of being paranoid ;)

thank you very much, goddess.

to yayam: if only i can depict in this blog my blushing face :D maraming salamat po. daan po kayo ulit..

to jen: naku! na-flatter naman daw ako ;) thanks, cuz. wag kang magalala, just txt me if u need help in your studies. advance merry xmas din! take care always.

corsi, asus naman, i was really laughing while reading the lines about the fatso. about his legs being opened to a 180 degree angle, i think it is not deliberate. it goes with his bulk. because of the heavy and overflowing thigh and legs, it is not possible for an obese to sit in a manner that is lesser than a 180 angle. forgive him and the yucky part of him ha ha it is more of pity that i feel for him. the runt has big ideas, eneweiz.

to bing: o di ba, kaya ko pa rin po magpatawa kahit galit sa pagsusulat? nge! :P but that’s something i never realized that instant — promise, i’d keep that in my mind next time (which I hope doesn’t happen!).

thanks for the advice, tita. they’ll go a long way.

That was wonderful. :D I like that story so much. Though medyo natamaan ako a little. Still, your words capture. And I like its humor. A definite worth-reading-for. :D

thanks for the kindest remarks, nina! definitely, you’ve inspired me to write more.

[...] (Read this part first: the original Jupiter Falls.) II. The FX Driver [...]

[...] Yeah, baby. Iâ€™ve always loved watching lightning strike down from the sky (though of course not if it hits me). This quiz reminds me of my personal essay, Jupiter Falls, and its more comical offshoot, When Jupiter Falls Four Times. [...]

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