TAMBUCHO TALE #: 32
TRT: 30 MINUTES
After spending the weekend at Donna’s place in Faaarview for nursing my chest pains and fever (that won’t happen) after our breast cancer awareness gig, I was quite eager to go home to the South that Sunday evening. I stunk!
My friend Danna and I took the MRT route. While we were in the elevator in MRT-North Ave, there was this middle-aged foreigner who suddenly asked if this were the way to Makati. Danna and I nodded in response to his question probably addressed to all passengers inside. In recollection, it was a stupid question as North Ave is the last North-bound station. All cars in MRT-North Ave will definitely be South-bound and will drop by Makati.
As soon as we came out, Danna and I dashed for the exact change booth. We had a feeling the last ride to the South was at hand. We were at the rear of the line when we saw the foreigner guy head for the cashier of the same booth and provide his payment. How appalling!
To my disappointment, the cashier assisted the singit right after the woman who came in first. She did not bother to remind him that they, as a public transport system, observe queue lines and he had to do the same thing. She just stared daggers at him after he’s turned his back to head for the turnstiles. What good can THAT do? Wasn’t she the perfect person to reprove him and do something?