Driving
Okay, so today’s topic is about driving in Metro Manila (MM).
I don’t pretend to be clever, but normally I try to start a post
with a snappy first paragraph. Today I am indecisive. I could say
driving in MM is more fearsome than exploring the underground city of
Edinburgh (then title it "The Long Halloween". Ooh, the horrors!). Or I
could say our traffic is our own Iraq War. Or I could say the state of
our road is the reflection of our society. Or I could say there’s a
deeply disturbing psychology about the boorishness of those bloody
drivers. Or I could say there are more accidents on our roads than
there are questionable Mattel toys (now that’s really stretching it).
Or I could say there are more Stephon Marbury’s here than any NBA
columnists could shake their thesauri at. Or I could simply say I hate
driving in Manila. Right, the last one’s the simplest. I’m sticking to
that then.
I hate driving in MM (not because I hate driving, but) because…
(Gee, I hate spelling these out because I risk sounding like I’m
insulting your intelligence - which isn’t my intention - but pardon me
because I’m just doing this in case any foreigners are reading)
…traveling in Metro Manila is more chaotic than reading a Chuck
Palahniuk’s book. Why? It’s because of bad vehicles, poor traffic
engineering and the patchy pavements – the lunar module was invented by
a Pinoy; bet he didn’t have a hard time experimenting.
And then there are the travelers, who are arguably the greatest malefactors.
Jeepney drivers: They’re anarchy, personified. They
accelerate as they please, swerve as they please and unload passengers
as they please. They ignore traffic regulations, and the cops just
ignore them. There’s even a belief that they pay monthly fees so they
could act above the law.
They don’t even care about other people. When you toot your horn
they won’t recognize you. On the other hand they can’t get their hands
off their horns. They also play loud and awful music on some subpar
superwoofers they got from Raon.
They also don’t use their headlights.
Bus drivers: They’re like jeepney drivers, except
they use their headlights. So they’re not as boorish, but that’s like
saying North Koreans are freer than Burmese.
They’re more insufferable because they act like the big guys on the
road. Buses are larger than most cars, and since the drivers know full
well that they won’t be quite as damaged if they collide with most
cars, cue the super indiscriminate swerving.
Bikers: They should be called "Crevice Hunters", although the sexual innuendo should be, um, stripped.
In their utter disregard of their own safety, bikers are the most
irritatingly opportunistic: where there’s passage, there are bikers.
Bikers are very troublesome because even when car drivers look at their
side mirrors they won’t be able to anticipate bikers who zig and zag
between other lanes and vehicles (as though impersonating the chess
horse). But by far the bikers’ most annoying habit is their tendency to pass behind a car that’s backing. Would it kill them to wait, huh?
Just how stupid is that?
Cyclists/Horse Carriage Drivers: In most cases, they exist only because their customers are too walk-phobic.
The unanimous criticisms are that they don’t only slow down those
vehicles behind them, they also travel in directions opposite of the
road. The horse of the carriage pees and poos anywhere.
Rich and spoiled drivers: They worship speed. Their
favorite trilogy is not the thought-provoking Godfather or the
fantastical Lord of the Rings; it’s the one with cars. What do the call
it, The Dumb and the Dubious? They think that just because
they got fast cars and hot babes (who are only in it for the
blingblings), they could do as they please and treat the road like
their private race circuit. So cue the Pimp My Ride rhetoric, the
obnoxious driftin’, the pulled-down shades, the "Mad Skillz" tautin’,
the dust-bitin’, the slurs-throwin’, the faux street-cred forkin’ and
the crunks-blastin’! And try not to get on their bad side lest you risk
being cussed at.
Bloody obnoxious, these posers! If they’re so interested in gangsta-frontin’ then why not just live in Tondo?
Cops: Your Philo 101 should teach this:
Who is more loathsome: the clueless driver who unintentionally
violates vague traffic laws, or the slacking cop who comes out of
hiding when the opportunity to fine
the said driver arises?
Pedestrians: who pop out of nowhere and can’t read signal lights. ‘Nuff said.
