Saturday, June 23, 2007

Not thinking. thinking too much.

12:06 am

807. My soon-to-be room number, located on the 8th floor, just below the top floor of the block. I bet the view is splendid. Great. I’m happy. It’s amazing. Blah, blah, blah. What a good start for the day and a sweet wrap up for my vacation. Damn it. A few minutes ago I had this nice plan going on about my fresh start as a 2nd year when my curiosity made me look up for my new room number. I was stoked as much as nervous. So I browsed through the site and searched through my personal account. There it was, appeared right under the Mahallah Information bar saying I am to be placed in room 807. I was agape. Are you kidding me? Never have I felt funny than I did at that moment. My previous room is 306 and it already felt like a lot of stairs. And 807? I felt victimized.

You must be wondering, why not take the lift. Sure, I can always use it. My only concern is that there are only 2 of them, utilized by almost everyone living in the block, consisting of wings A, B and D and some heavy garbage carts that need going up and down every morning. I know they’re pending for great repair. Sigh. Poor device. Lucky to those in wing C, granted that they have a lift of “their own”. So the competition is less stiff. Don’t ask me how funny that is or what kind of building I live in because I could care less now that I’m in wing A, so zip it.

I remember the first time I had to take a lift- I was amused. It seemed like the lift was too old to ever give anything or anyone a lift. Funny as this may sound, but there is a certain spot where you should be standing on and there shouldn’t be more than 7 persons (with average size) in it. Otherwise, the lift door fails to close and you will remain where you are, neither going up nor down. The buzzing sound will never cease until someone who’s kind enough to leave. Now, this is the fun part. There would be some kind of staring competition going on before that among the lifters (those in the lift) until “the one” left.

So what makes you “the one”? Simple. You either get in late or when it’s almost full. I was both. One day I was running late for my class at 8 so I took my chance to take the lift. So when the door opened, I saw more than 7 people in it, giving me this “don’t-you-dare” kind of look. It should have occurred to me that I wasn’t the only one running late, but I couldn’t be bothered. I stepped in as lightly as I could, playing feather fairy. I was pretty sure my empty stomach helped. I smiled at my sweetest as the door closed. I knew I wasn’t “the one”.

…until it reopened 3 seconds later. And started screaming.

“Raje, ko berat la”

Someone told me from behind. Thank you, Atty. I moved and tried to find the “right spot”. Unfortunately, there wasn’t any. All taken. Heck.

“Raje, ko berat la” there she said again, half staring, half laughing.

I couldn’t say anything but smiled for a second. Half sorry, half embarrassed. Ready to leave. I was the one. Indeed.

Situation is never conducive when you want it to be.

Happy 30th Birthday Jason Mraz :-)


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