City By Night

Last night on my way home, while crossing the Marikina bridge (the one along JP Rizal, not the bridge along Marcos highway), I noticed there was a light mist covering the city. The powerful lamps along the river cast a yellow glow on the water and on the riverbank park, but the mist muted the glow and added a sense of… was it romance? Danger? Sadness? Excitement?

The bars and restaurants along the riverbank were still very much awake, even at midnight. There were numerous cars, motorcycles and bikes parked; people were hanging out in pairs and in groups. Intrigued, I turned right after going down the bridge, then right again, then parked.

Before I could step out of Orlando (my car), I noticed a car parked across the road from where I was. The window on the driver’s side was down, and a man around early 30s was talking to two guys standing beside the car. One of the guys was tall, about 5’11”, lean and muscular in a tight tee. The other was shorter, around 5’4”, stocky in a “close-to-being-fat” kind of way. The man in the car obviously had his eye on the taller dude; his eyes kept darting in his direction, taking him in from head to foot. The shorter guy, though, was the one who kept business going; he was talking most of time for his taller companion, who would time and again lean into the car window, cocking his head as if to listen to some whispered enticement. Then he’d giggle, stand up with his hands in his pocket, and look at short guy who would start talking and gesturing again.

After a while it seemed they reached some sort of agreement. The short guy was gesturing towards the direction of the main street outside the park. Then the three shook hands. The two guys started walking away from the car, which started up and drove away... towards the main street.

Curious, I stepped out of Orlando and walked out of the park towards the main street. When I got there, I saw the car parked along the street, with the engine running. Soon enough, the taller guy stepped out from another corner and started walking towards the car. He climbed into the passenger’s seat, and then the car sped off.

Well, I said to myself, at least someone’s going to get lucky tonight. Thank god this is Marikina; no gay serial killings here, unlike in Quezon City.

Then I noticed them: a guy in shorts and polo shirt standing several meters away, then another in an all-black t-shirt and jeans ensemble standing way further down the street. My, my, my!

All over the city our incumbent mayor, Marides Fernando (the wife of MMDA chief Bayani Fernando) placed billboards proclaiming “Marikina City In The Pink Of Health” and made pink the official color of the city: pink men’s urinals, pink sidewalks, pink signboards on jeepneys. Perhaps she doesn’t know that the Pink Purse is doing brisk business in her city of pink.

I walked back to my car and climbed in. My watch said 12:50am… my gosh, I was watching this little negotiation drama unfold for close to an hour! Go home, get some sleep, I told myself.

I drove off, the park still brightly lit in a yellow haze, a blanket of mist tucking people to bed….