Goodbye #59 Pilar St. - My home for two weeks. |
(Cue music: J. Cole’s “I’m Coming Home”)
Thinking back to the night before I
left Zamboanga City, I am hoping we had met all our dear Mama’s wishes before
she died. I can’t think of anything we missed so I’m comfortable in thinking
that we had done all she asked for in her last days and the few days that
followed. Would you believe that a couple of years ago, Mama told me her goal
was to reach at least the age of 80? Well, she planned that perfectly too.
Incidentally, that happens to be my goal also. That evening, Larry and I
invited the Pabellon and Tupaz families to dinner at the Grand Astoria Hotel Lotus
Restaurant. Other than the children, this was the same group that planned
Operation Pilar two weeks before and executed the plan to a T. As I mentioned
before, these two families were the source of moral, emotional, spiritual, and
physical support of Mama in our absence. We cannot thank them enough for what
they have done to help Mama the past few years and especially the last few
months, when the demands of her illness most likely also put a strain on those
two families. We will owe them a debt of gratitude forever.
Dark and early Thursday morning, it
was time to catch my 6:45 flight from Zamboanga to Manila. The compulsiveness
to exercise will have to be satisfied later in the airport terminal hallways.
Larry drove me to the airport taking a slightly circuitous route along Cawa-Cawa
Boulevard. If I only knew that going all the way down Governor Lim Avenue took
me to the seaside boulevard, I would have made that one of my exercise
destinations too. Maybe if I
ever make it back to Zamboanga, I’ll be able to run or walk along Cawa-Cawa.
Larry dropped me off at the airport and and I felt sad as we hugged each other
goodbye. He was staying a day or two more to tie up any loose ends. I was left
to fend for myself one more time. You won’t, and I can’t believe how much
dependent I had become on other people in the two short weeks I was there.
Taken out of my element, I had become helpless and useless in Zamboanga.
Pretty soon Airphil Express
departed Zamboanga City and landed in NAIA (Ninoy Aquino International Airport)
Terminal 3. I had plenty of time to make it to Terminal 1 as I had a four hour
layover. I asked an airport worker and a desk police officer where I could
catch the shuttle bus. They pointed me to a certain direction. I went there and
boarded the bus which left quickly because I filled the last seat. During my
arrival a couple of weeks before, I had taken the shuttle from Terminal I to
Terminal 3 without any problems. A few minutes into the trip, I noticed that we
appeared to be going farther away from the airport so I asked my seatmate where
the bus was heading to. She said Baclaran. Oops, that’s not where I wanted to go
so I approached the driver to make sure. Sure enough the bus was heading
downtown, so I quickly jumped off. How was I to know there where two kinds of
shuttle service (one that went around three terminals and one that took you
downtown)? I hailed a taxicab and asked to driver to take me to Terminal 1
where I was supposed to fly on Korean Airlines back to Incheon and L.A. I
requested the driver to please turn on his meter since he hadn’t in the few
seconds I was in the back seat. He started a conversation about his missed
opportunity to move to Italy a few years back. Without being too specific, I
told him why I was in the Philippines. Thankfully, the conversation was short
because I had not been dropped by the shuttle bus too far away from NAIA. It
was an 85 peso taxi ride (about $2.00).
I entered Terminal 1 and looked
around for the Korean Airlines counters. Owing to my disorientation, I lined up
behind a couple of people not noticing that one of them was in a wheelchair.
Another oops because this was the handicapped line and I was redirected by an
airport worker to the proper line. After checking in, I headed to the nearest
money changer and except for a few hundred pesos for the terminal fee (550
pesos) and in case I had to buy food, I exchanged everything back to dollars.
It was about that time that Leonard called and offered condolences. He only
heard about Mama’s passing that morning via Facebook (the same way he heard I
arrived in Zamboanga two weeks before). We chatted briefly and wished each
other well. He said he may visit the U.S. again soon.
After that, I queued in the
Immigration line and when I got to the counter, the lady asked me if I had
changed the spelling of my last name because it didn’t appear in their database..
I said that when I became a U.S. citizen, I connected all the letters of my
last name. I was then cleared to enter the departure area. I walked past the
duty free stores and snack concessions and found my way to the Korean Airlines
gate. I had about 2 hours to kill so I went back up front to get some food. I
ate some overpriced arroz caldo with tough to bite chicken leg and a siopao.
With still more time to kill, I decided to put in my walking workout by
traipsing up and down a long hallway between the concession stands and the
departure gate. Each way took about a minute and 15 seconds so you can do the
multiplication on how many laps I had to take to finish 35 minutes. As usual, I
was pulling my luggage while walking, just like I did at Incheon and Terminal 3
a few weeks before. The airport workers who were at their permanent posts were
probably thinking how crazy I was (they were not completely wrong). At least I was
able to satisfy my obligation to my body for the day and not miss a workout.
The three hour flight from Manila
to Incheon was pretty uneventful other than an old lady behind me getting mad
at me for reclining my chair too far back which almost spilled water on her. I
tried to get some zzz’s to no avail. I initially had the row of three seats all
to myself until a man transferred from his more crowded row to take the window
seat in mine. We had a couple of hours layover in Incheon so I connected to
their wi-fi to check email and Facebook. I was out of cellphone range with
either my U.S. Virgin Mobile service or Philippines SMART service so when the
flight from Incheon to L.A. was delayed almost an hour, I had no way of
contacting my neighbor who was supposed to pick me up at the airport. Since she
works for Southwest Airways, I was hoping she was tracking my flight online.
With that delay, I got a little peckish so I looked around the airport and
found something familiar: Subway sandwiches. First I asked if they accepted
dollars and how much the tuna sandwich was. The half sub size was $4.00 which I
think would be similar to the U.S. price. At least the Koreans did not overcharge, not
like the 10 plus dollars hotdog, chips, and soda I got at LAX.
I don't know exactly what this was but it appeared like people depicting a wedding party was walking through Incheon Airport |
Before we boarded the plane to
L.A., we went through another security check and this was probably because it
was the anniversary of 9-11 and also because of the killing of the diplomat in
Syria. This was slightly more rigorous since the x-ray machine wasn’t used but
rather, security people opened our bags. Having passed that, we left rainy
South Korea. Another 12 hour endurance event for the buttocks stuck in a 36
inch wide seat. At least that was better than the 32 inch seat of domestic
planes. Speaking of buttocks, I noticed that despite the downsizing of toilet
paper through the years in the U.S. the Koreans still appeared to have full
sized ones. Or maybe the TP just looked bigger because the plane lavatories
were too small. While the majority of passengers went to sleep between meals,
my mind was constantly turning on and off, thus denying me the pleasure that
others were too glad to partake of. Lack of sleep would be my norm to this day regardless
of airplane seat or my own bed. My sleep patterns have been majorly destabilized.
When we arrived in LAX, we had to
take a shuttle bus from where the plane dropped us off to the main terminal
which was about a couple of miles away. Interesting twist there. While still on
the plane, I texted my neighbor Colleen that we just landed and when I was at
the Customs line she texted back that she was circling the airport while
waiting for me. Fortunately, Customs didn’t hold me up and was soon waiting for
Colleen outside the arrival area. While waiting there, a lady asked to borrow my cell phone to call
her daughter. They spoke in a language I didn’t understand. Was I happy to see
Colleen and her son Kenny driving up. Finally, something and someone very
familiar. I was back home. (Cue music: Randy Newman’s “I Love L.A.”)
Public comments below, private comments: E-mail Me!
1 comment:
The vision of the two of you, Kuya Noel and Larry hugging each other at the airport cannot be the end of this movie. You will be reunited nsoon, and in happier circumstances. I promise to exert all my powers to make that possible! :)
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