Loss And Laos

Hay naku, I just came back from a Tagaytay weekend with the family and I have a whole day shoot on Tuesday so I’ll just try to squeeze this in this Monday evening.

We arrived in Tagaytay Saturday early evening. After dinner we stayed in a friend’s house which we borrowed for the long weekend. It’s a beautiful house, the company is great and I was looking forward to a great vacation.

I normally don’t go to Sunday mass anymore, but since I was with the whole family I joined them for the 7am mass. Afterwards, we decided to go to Breakfast by Antonio’s. When I got inside Orlando, I noticed the glove compartment was open. My wallet was missing. I asked my nephew, who was sitting at the front passenger’s seat, if he remembered me placing my wallet in the compartment. Poor kid was still sleepy from an early morning mass; he just mumbled, “I don’t remember.” I went to my mom in the other car and told her I may have left my wallet in the house. She offered to foot the breakfast bill first. So we proceeded to Antonio’s.

When we got past the Tagaytay market area, my hand fell on the space by the handbrake where I was very sure I placed my digital camera this morning; Ollie wasn’t there. Immediately I flashed the hazard lights, parked Orlando on the side of the road, and went to the passenger’s side and examined the door. There was a dent just below the handle, like a screwdriver was forced under it. That’s when I was sure—someone had broken into Orlando and stolen my digital camera, my wallet and my office cellphone!

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.

I don’t just feel bad. I feel so stupid for leaving them in the car. And I feel so violated every time I see that dent on Orlando’s door handle.

Why did I leave them in the car in the first place? I’ve done that before, but I was quite sure Orlando was in a safe parking area (the office basement parking, for example.) I think I was lulled into thinking nothing bad could happen to Orlando because I was parked in front of a church, for crissakes!

Luckily my other brother who followed us up to Tagaytay that Sunday morning also brought along my Nikon camera, so I was still able to shoot pictures of our Tagaytay vacation. When he handed the camera to me, my brother joked, “Baka ayaw ni Lord na mag-digital ka!”

I think ayaw Niya na magsimba ako. Minsan lang nga ako mag-a-attend ng mass, mananakawan pa ako.

Pakshet.

Isang malaking PAKSHET talaga, o!

Mamatay sana yung nagnakaw. Mamatay sana ang kanyang buong pamilya.

*****

We went to the Tagaytay PNP headquarters to report the incident and ask for a police report, since my driver’s license was also in my wallet.

The policeman at the desk was named Rosas. He was instructed by his superior to take down my story in the police blotter. For some reason Rosas insisted on writing down my story in English. Unfortunately he lacked English writing skills. He was having a difficult time coming up with words—I had to supply him the words and help him out with the spelling.

After a while his superior went up to him and told him, “Sabi ko nga isulat mo muna sa scratch para hindi madumihan yang blotter natin!” I glanced behind me and saw my two brothers stepping out of the precinct, giggling. Mr. Superior looked at Rosas’ report and said, “O, ilagay mo diyan: ‘Said perpetuator broke into the vehicle and took the following items, to wit—’ Ilagay mo diyan, ‘to wit’!”

I looked down at my feet to stop myself from bursting out laughing. I looked behind me; my mom was giggling uncontrollably. I had to look away.

Later on Rosas was asked to watch over a prisoner staying in their holding cell, so another police officer took over getting my statement. He was a lot better; he remembered to ask me what kind of car I was driving, where it was parked, the name of the church—those kinds of pertinent information. After he got my story, he went inside the office to type the report on their computer. We waited outside.

45 minutes later he was still not finished with the report. What was taking him so long? Then I saw him step out of the office and go into another one. I followed him to ask him how long we still had to wait. At the doorway I stopped; he was flipping through a Tagalog-English dictionary! I held my tongue and went back outside to wait.

After ten more minutes I had the report in my hands. As we were leaving, my mom shook her head and said, “These people should be properly trained!”

I replied, “Ma, these are the very people tasked to protect us all.”

Mom said, “At least we had a good laugh.”

“Yeah. For a while I almost forgot I had stuff stolen from me.”

For humor therapy, go to your nearest police precinct and ask for a police report.