Technically speaking, March is the so-called “Fire Prevention” month right? I suppose that means we stop fires from eating up half the slums in Metro Manila from March 1 to 31, never mind April and the rest of the year.
While the rest of the world is so busy decimating each other with bombs and guns, we fall prey to the occasional neglected candle or the dying embers of a cigarette stub. The shanties are the first to fall victim to these fires, considering how their walls are practically glued to each other.
But I suppose it doesn’t really take much to start fires these days, when the heat outside is enough to make anybody spontaneously combust. I step out of the shower and I’m instantly covered in sweat again. Certain days make me feel like staying under the glorious water of our shower at home for hours — never mind the bill or the fact that I could end up a prune for life.
It sucks to step out of the house these days. The office is airconditioned, yes I know, but the way to the office is literally consumed by hellfire. The MRT, as I’ve mentioned repeatedly, is hell in a steel capsule. Step inside and you’ll certainly feel like one of the wretched souls soaking in hellfire, begging heaven for respite and salvation. Yep, the people on board look like they’re bound to live out the rest of their days in eternal damnation as well.
In any case, I’ve been desperately seeking out ways to “beat the heat”, so to speak, and that includes going to the office in capri pants (is that even the correct term?) and shirts that don’t make me feel like a lumpia being fried under the sun’s rays. I’ve also resorted to wearing flat shoes that require no socks in lieu of my ever trusty chucks.
The downside to this type of casual wear I discovered just a few hours ago. I believe I suffered massive third degree burns on my foot after a fifteen-minute jeepney ride. The pain is horrendous, and my skin is even crispier than before (yes, I like thinking of myself as lechon). Now I know how it feels like to be the ant suffering under the combined powers of the sun, a magnifying lens and a nasty little kid who simply has too much time.
The solution to all this, according to most people I know, is to head down to the beach to “beat the heat”. The logic of this concept defies me. How do you beat the heat by immersing yourself in more heat? And no, the water definitely cannot cool you down with the sun beating savagely down your head.
The office, I suppose, subscribes to this rather flawed “summer fun” concept, as we’re heading to a beach outing this May. Dear God, if you agree to hide the brutal sun behind nice clouds on that particular day, I swear never to make fun of Jobert Sucaldito ever, ever again. That means I’ll never get to call him “talikodgenic” ever again — and I do think it’s worth it. Maybe I’ll quit making fun of Kiray, too, as long as God promises not to sunburn me out of my mind.
