“One can actually enjoy this place in one day,” said I, who, in my high school brain, was getting bothered with teenage ennui. “It’s possible. Just get the earliest flight, schedule all the activities ahead, and leave in the latest flight possible.”
This principle rang in my head for years.
Hence, my quick flight to Boracay.
My itinerary was scheduled on March 21, 1:30 pm. It was marked in my planner ages ago without me knowing what was in store for me this March (A.C.T.S. etc). I was to meet Ch and the rest of the “gang” in Boracay, in the middle of their own itinerary that I originally had nothing to do with. They got there Saturday, two days ahead. I was coming in Monday.
My flight back was Tuesday. 6:30 pm.
NAIA TERMINAL 2: Girls, boys, a book and smoke
I got to NAIA Terminal 2 around 11:30 am. Way too early for my flight. The reasons are so irritating to recount, I dare not try to write them down. I checked in behind a group of Filipinas, barkadas obviously, who almost wore bikinis to the airport already. What slightly annoys me in a group of friends is that it creates a faux sense of power to everyone in the group. Like they own any place they set foot in, provided they do it together. I’m guilty of this. That’s why I don’t like it when I’m alone and the group does not include me.
I sat at the farthest corner of the boarding area as possible. I sat opposite a San Miguel engineer who was in his mid 40s and forced myself to read. I brought Bonifacio’s Bolo with me, probably to inspire me to write for the trip. But with too much historical ranting and I was walking around T2 again.
A few minutes after the call to board, as I was walking towards gate 8, I saw smoke near the runway. No one paid attention. Apparently, I was the only one who actually thought fire on runways is bad. I looked around to convince myself that at least one soul saw it. No one. Every one went about their businesses like it was a typical flight day. Maybe I was the weird one. When I got to the boarding gate, a group of Britons (a group of around 7) lined up in front and behind me, sandwiching me between them tall boys. I was fifth to the last and felt small around them.Having checked in a bit early, I had the choice to sit at the window side. It was an advantage I never wanted to miss. Being too excited the previous night, having had a short appointment very early in the morning, I looked forward to taking at least a 20-minute nap on the plane. I’m not particularly window-crazy, but seeing where I’m going is also nice. At least the next time I fly back, I can tell the pilot we’re going the wrong way if ever.
The Brit guys were starting to become unbearably noisy in front and behind me.
But when I got to my seat number, two ladies were already sitting in our row, and being banged by the Brits around me (pardon the language, please), I couldn’t manage to reach my seat. Lady 1 asked me if I preferred the window seat, to which I curtly replied, “I prefer none. You’re free to take it.” It wasn’t a lie, I have to say. It was the truth. Though I questioned her question, I didn’t care anymore because the guys were causing too much disturbance raucously looking for their own seats, and I wanted to just sit down and be quiet for my sake. Good job to me, the moment we all settled down, I realized they were all seated around me.
No offense to my UK friends, the best non-Filipino people I know are all from UK, but the guys were so rowdy during the whole trip that I didn’t remove my shades to hide my eyes from rolling. The guy behind me kept on kicking (unintentionally) my seat (his legs were too long I kind of pitied him) and kept on saying so many green jokes.
I made a friend, my seatmate, who was nice enough to bear the noise around us casually. I met her again during our last-minute shopping in D*Mall Plaza, but I forget her name now. So much for friendship.
Part 1: Manila to Kalibo Flight
Part 2: Kalibo to Caticlan
Part 3: In and around Boracay
Part 4: Boracay to Manila
Extras: Jet Ski Experience
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