Accidentally Jessica

Sorry, this is the best that my phone camera can do.

Nanay handed me a handwritten note on a yellow stick pad.  It said: Li Garden Sharksfin Seafood Restaurant, Macapagal Ave., near PNB.

She asked if I could drive her there the following day for her 5pm European pilgrimage briefing; the tour sponsored by my bachelor brother and resident Mr. Generous, Kuya Gary.  Though she said it as a request, it was more like an edict.  As the family’s designated “go to” guy I was expected to find the time to do as, well, requested.

So after our afternoon Wall Climbing class, my wife and I picked up Nanay at Robinsons Place Lipa.  The drive was uneventful and we arrived at Li Garden a good 30 minutes ahead of schedule.

The last time I brought Nanay to this kind of briefing was on a rainy night in November of last year for her trip to the Holy Land (told you my brother is generous). Back then the meeting was held at a Korean restaurant somewhere in Ermita.  The rain was heavy that my wife and I decided to wait out the briefing inside the venue.  Luckily, not all those who were supposed to arrive did, leaving a few vacant plates – note, free dinner – available to us.

As a consequence of arriving early at Li Garden, we wouldn’t know if the same thing would happen in at least two hours.  Honestly, I am intrigued if the restaurant would serve sharksfin as its business name boldly suggests.  I suppose World Wildlife Fund, DENR, PETA and other groups concerned with animal conservation should look into this.

Anyway, as soon as Nanay had other early birds for company we decided to leave her there for a quick hop to the Mall of Asia a few minutes away.

Every time we are in Manila we make it a point to eat at restaurants not available in Lipa, this time at Sbarro’s, my wife’s favorite.

After a satisfying slice of deep dish pizza, zitti and eggplant parmigiana washed down by iced tea and lemonade we decided to take a leisurely stroll back to the parking lot.

On the way I heard a powerful voice singing.  I thought it was just an audition for one of those billion talent shows.  It sounded a lot like Jessica Sanchez.  But no one could sound like Jessica Sanchez except for Jessica Sanchez, herself.

As we walked closer to the stage, a widescreen was showing someone who looked like Jessica Sanchez singing.  I thought “Oh well, just a recording of one of Jessica’s performances.”

But it was not.  Under the widescreen was the real Jessica singing “Stuttering” live.  It was surreal.  It was an unexpected blessing.  My wife later confided that she was on the verge of tears because of the accidental encounter.

Jessica sang another song, The Prayer.  She was brilliant.  And supremely talented.  She also looked every bit a Filipina in short shorts and what looked like 10-foot wedges.  Yes, I think she’s a Filipina regardless of what Charice Pempengco’s American manager claims.  I mean if you compare Jessica and Charice, who do you think acts and behaves like a Filipina?

Nanay’s meeting ended around 9.

On the way home, everyone was silent inside the car.  Nanay was sleeping and my wife was still probably reminiscing about the chance encounter with Jessica.  I sure was.

I was doing 90 along the STAR Tollway when I was about to overtake a six-wheeler doing about 60.  This is a routine pass, I go left, the truck stays to the right, and we should just be complete strangers whizzing by each other without actually seeing one another.

But as I was about to pass the slow truck inexplicably veered towards my lane.  I simultaneously hammered the horn and stepped on the brakes so hard that we went from 90 to 0 in one long angry ode to the truck driver’s parentage, specifically his maternal lineage. 

The horn jolted the driver to his senses and he steered the truck back to the proper lane.

Funny that as this was happening, the only thing going inside my head was that the sound effects in movies of cars breaking and wheels screeching sounded eerily similar to the real thing.  So did the videos of car accidents caught on tape.

Then we were engulfed by the smoke and burnt smell of brake pads that were worked up to its limits.  My Nanay, awakened by the sudden stop, calmly and cluelessly asked, “Bakit ka tumigil?”

As I started the car again I can see the truck pulled over to the side, the driver alit and holding his hand high in a gesture of apology.  He looked like someone suddenly awakened from sleep.  I drove on.  It was pointless to confront him.

What a night.  One moment I was humming Stuttering in my head, the next I was muttering inanities.  Oh darn, accidentally Jessica.