Biking on runways, bad for your health

First runway, narrower and ideal for small planes

Have you ever been personally called by a voice from a control tower inside a military air base?  I did.  And I lived to tell the tale.

It was not really a typical ride, more like a series of errands of paying bills and delivering things.  I've done 15 kilometers and was on my home.  Like a recovering addict searching for a fix I suddenly felt the inevitable urge to get some more.  So I turned left to the rear gate of Fernando Air Base where I can get 5 more kilometers of dirt road, around the perimeter of the military facility.

But to get to the dirt road I had to cross two runways.  It was not the first time that I was doing this, but it was the first time that military planes were taking on and off the runways.  I know that when planes are flying, the area was off limits.  But hey, it was just a two minute sprint and I could always stop when I see a plane coming, so I went ahead.

Second runway, wider and used by small and larger planes

A hundred meters or so before I reach the twin runways, a voice boomed over the control tower public address system, "Yung naka-bike, bumalik ka dito."  And he repeated it after a short while, this time louder and with a discernible urgency as I was only fifty meters away from where I shouldn't be.

I can see movement from beyond the runways where soldiers, military vehicles and artillery are stationed.  I certainly got their attention.  And behind me where the control tower was, I can imagine guns trained at me with orange dots splattered all over my back (helped along by action movies I have watched), in case I decided to proceed with my intent and I had to be gunned down.

I pressed my brakes and made a u-turn, this time pedaling with less pace with my fingers rapping on my handle bar - my body language of telling the imaginary snipers in the control tower, hey relax, I come in peace.

As I neared the tower, I can see a soldier approaching to block my path.  I first looked at where his hands were, oh good,  he was not holding on to his gun.  But he had a stern look about him, as if I just made out with his wife.

Anong pangalan mo, sir?


Saan ka pupunta?


Taga-saan ka?

I peppered my answers with "Pasensiya na sir."

Then from the control tower emerged a person whom I believed the booming voice that called my attention belonged.  Though he was some sixty feet above me, I can see that he was not holding on to his gun, oh good.  When I looked at his head, I recognized him as a kababata, and he recognized me as well because I have taken off my helmet.  He was scratching the back of his head.

The soldier in front of me motioned me to proceed to an adjacent building, his commanding officer wanted to see me.  As I was proceeding where I was directed, my kababata, still scratching his head, managed to get down from the tower.  By his deep breaths it was obvious that he hurried down.  He told his comrade, "P're, arbor ko na to," without looking at me and without stopping scratching his head.  It's either he really had an itchy scalp or he was mighty pissed with me.

"Eh, gustong makita ni Sir."

Gathered outside an office was a group of soldiers, in the middle was their commanding officer in military coverall, he had the look of someone who had just a quarrel with his wife and the wife had the last say, the rest appeared as if they were having issues with their own partners.  I scanned where their hands were at, oh good, no one was holding on to a gun.

The commanding officer, in a low voice, intently asked me?

Anong unit mo?


Bakit hindi ka nagpapaalam na tatawid ka?


Hindi mo ba nakikita na may flying ngayon?  Eh, sasagasaan ka ng mga yan!

Again, I peppered my answers with "Pasensiya na sir."

He did not look happy or contented with my replies, but someone from the crowd broke into a smile - a soldier that I regularly played basketball with, "Bakit kasi 'di ka nagpapaalam, eh!"

The commanding officer sternly warned me before he let me go, "Sa uulitin mag-coordinate ka muna ha."

You think I would immediately head home after this brush with peeved soldiers, right?

Oh no, I'm not just a curious biker but also a stubborn one.  So I headed to where I would normally exit this particular route and made a reverse trajectory,  then made a u-turn when I reached where I normally started my ride.  I ended up biking more than the five kilometers I planned for.

Now I have my fix and I'm ready to go home.

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I grew up in this military base where all pilots of the Philippine Air Force are taught how to fly.  The runway was where I first learned how to ride a bike, and the base's perimeter is where I used to jog with my older brother when he was physically preparing for his entry into the Philippine Military Academy.


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