Rolex is just one of those times

February 5 2008 10:30 am

When a stranger stops me

while I’m walking to ask

“What’s your favorite color?”

When a stranger smiles at me

and says

“You smell good.”

When a stranger tells me

“You look good today”

as if we weren’t strangers at all.

When a stranger actually follows me and my friends out of a bar

to confirm

“Isn’t she that model from that commercial?”

The “she” he was referring to was me.

That one really made me laugh: a model?

In what commercial?

For STI?

I’ve always wanted to be a beauty queen…

or maybe a model...

but NOT Miss STI.

Aoux had said to the guy “No” and dismissed him.

I had laughed to Aoux, “Okay na sana mapagkamalan model. Dream come true!”

Aoux heckled,“Oo nga eh. Kaya lang…STI???”

I said, “Oo nga. Ang…sad. Yay! Model na ko ngayon!”

When I would say

“Why do these things happen to me?!”

in amused exasperation

like last Saturday to Tatang

as soon as I entered Elbow Room in Metrowalk at around 5 pm.

Tatang asked, “Bakit? Anong nangyari?”

I told him about this man:

fair-skinned, looks clean, in his late 30s, married with a 5-year-old-daughter

and the driver of the cab I rode to Metrowalk.

The driver said:

That I looked like I was going to a party.

That I was pretty.

That I looked like I was 22 or 23.

That I looked “nakaka in love”.

That he would like me to be his friend.

That he could give me his mobile number.

That maybe we could go out one time.

That he would take some of his “pretty” and “fun-loving” passengers to a motel.

That he would be “pleasured” by some of these passengers in the cab.

But no sex in the car because it was bad luck, you know.

That most of the women who would go out with him were married or involved.

Like me.

That he is married and has a 5-year-old daughter.

That he feels guilty about what he does.

But he just prays for it.

He’s only human, you know.

That I was “mukhang ang sarap mong mahalin”

How come if I were married I didn’t have a kid yet?

That he would like to show me how to make a baby successfully.

I said:

I was 35.

I’ve been married for 10 years.

Not interested to be his friend.

Don’t want his mobile number.

How sure is he that his wife isn’t doing what he’s doing?

How sure is he that his “dates” were clean?

Did he think God really forgives what he’s doing?

There’s this thing called “karma”

I love my husband.

No thanks to the baby-making tutorial.

To shut him up, I asked, “Manong sa tingin niyo mukha akong may sakit?”

He leered, “Hindi.”

I smiled, “Talaga? May taning na ho buhay ko. Isang taon na lang para mabuhay. Dalawa at the most. Matagal ko ng alam. Kaya siguro ko mukhang maganda’t bata dahil at peace na. Saka mahal na mahal ko ho asawa ko, so no thank you. Sana Manong kayo rin maging at peace na rin. ”

Before I got out of the cab, I said, “Salamat sa kuwento. Ingat ho kayo.”

I had felt a little threatened:

All the doors to the cab were locked.

He was driving.

He kept on talking about sex and his sexnanigans.

He would leer at me from head to toe, lingering on the chest area.

He was making passes and hoping that this passenger would bite.

I had taken out my knife:

In case he would suddenly swing to a direction not going to Metrowalk.

In case he wouldn’t be dissuaded by my last attempt to shut him up.

I wasn’t really scared:

I could simply stab his neck with my knife

I had my cell phone: a button for retribution ready to be pressed.

The guy looked like he needed to talk.

He was steadily driving to Metrowalk.

He was just:

A horny cab driver.

A man with a big “sex” problem.

A man who likes to talk sex.

Or:

A “friendly” and “harmless” cab driver who likes to entertain his married or involved female passengers with sexual passes, sex stories and unsolicited sexual advice.

Or:

May be a sexual predator.

Technically, he already is.

I had scoffed:

He had a disclaimer: Huwag mong isipin na ginagawa o gagawin ko sa yo yun ginagaw ko sa kanila ha? Kuwento lang’to.

Right: say one thing and do the opposite of what you’re saying.

I had thought:

OH MY GAWD!

I still don’t get the supposed merit in physical compliments

Well, so much for being safely married

Cab rides are not really that safe

How does it feel to jump out of a car running at 40-60 km/hr

If I had given in to offended hysterics, would he turn violent

Danger: Neanderthal. Don’t…startle…him; let him ungga

If I called the cab company and complained, will he lose his job

How would his wife and daughter survive

Is he really harmless

Nothing beats diffusing sexual vibe with “I’m terminally ill”

If I tell the boys about this, the driver would end up dead

This is how Macho Banzon must’ve felt, minus the lascivious vibe

But I didn’t use “Holly”

I gave my first name

OH MY GAWD!

Oh well.

If you want:

to find out for yourself

this kind of experience on a cab ride

know why he’s like that

exchange pick-up methods

sexual advice

to beat the crap out of somebody

then ride a white cab with the plate number TXJ 708 or call 2881017 and ask to be picked up by the driver “Rolex”.

The whole time Rolex was talking,

Lenny Kravitz’s was singing in my head:

Mister cab driver

Fuck you

I’m a survivor

And in my head:

Nonoy should include this cab driver in his ‘Taxi Diaries by Martin Villanueva’.

“Real editorials are made in the streets:

Taxi driver pinatay ng writer dahil ito’y malaswang material.”

Yeah, Taxi Diaries would be a good book.