PUV scenes

Like millions of pinoys, my mobility depended much on public transport. I've been riding PUVs since baptismal, and perhaps, months before that. Riding with strangers is not something that I really look forward to. At times, it's ok. Sometimes, superbly irritating. Feeling helpless in some PUV scenes, I resorted to compile some unforgettable and unforgivable practices. In all these practices, I conclude that many people lack the sense of propriety and it's one thing I've to contend with as the downside of commuting.

10 worst PUV scenes (smell and sound)

1. Nosepicking. And please don’t tick off that hideous (which is supposed to be your private affair) black slimy thing to the upholstered seats and door handle.

2. Applying make-up, cologne, and lotion. Why do some passengers think PUVs can be their dressing room?

3. Combing that unkempt wet hair. Leave your crowning (non)glory to the dryers if you can’t comb them good before leaving your place.

4. In search of lice and god knows what. I was seated beside a lady who’s doing a search and execute operation in her daughter’s head. I half expect her to swallow the lice, like monkeys do.

5. BO. One word: deodorant!

6. Shawarma (and other smelly food). I love shawarma but I have not gotten to a point of eating them inside the PUV and overpower the airconditioner with smells of roasted beef and garlic.

7. Too loud mouths. Some people are dead tired after a day’s work…shut up and let them take a quiet ride back home.

8. Snore (huragok to the highest level). I don’t blame you, especially if you’re beside Mr./Ms. BO. You’d lose consciousness or blame the traffic for the slowmo trip.

9. Sweaty arms. With constricted space, you literally rub elbows with strangers. You can take the rubbing thing but not the transfer of bodily fluids.

10. Too kapalmuks to care. Some passengers don’t mind if you fall to the floor or only ¼ of your butt hits the seat. Clueless or plain insensitive, they spread their behind like carpets. And it doesn't make for a good ride (and a seatmate).

NuYear

The rain took care of the rubbish of the New Year. It was a sight...torn pieces of paper and firecracker left-overs scattered in our street. It rained on Jan. 1, providential...it wiped out the traces of the previous night's depleted 'armory' of sparklers, pwitis, and what have you.

New year isn't only about the change of 7 to 8. It's about new life, too. If you live your life the same way as you lived it before, then the passage of time is merely mechanical.

Love is one of the best gifts. It heals, too. It's somethng I wouldn't tired giving, receiving, and nurturing for the new year and always! :-)