<title> ONE DAY, THE CABVENGER WILL STRIKE
<subhead> Hell is: non-calibrated cab meters, ignorant bombers, and bag checks. Nothing new here except maybe the author.

And if you have a horror story involving commuting, traffic or generally, any sort of asshole on the street, send me some email, baby! Contact me at <yoruba@email.ro>

* *

Between the last report Urban Commuter report filed in May and this month, several strange and disturbing things have happened to the commuting world-- only some of which have been documented.

First there are the taxis. If you've ever tried taking one in Makati, especially from the Ayala Center area, you know what insufferable tyrants these cab drivers are. Well, it's worse now. With the increase in gasoline prices, the flagdown rate has risen from P20 to P25, with the meter adding 2 pesos every wheel revolution after (i exaggerate of course). Unfortunately, from my personal experience, none of the taxicabs in Makati have had their meters changed yet. (Well, except for this one cab whose flagdown rate was an exorbitant P27. I immediately berated him for it and disembarked.)

So you end up conversing like so:
"Dagdagan niyo na lang po. Hindi pa kasi naka-calibrate ang metro."
"Sige."
"Dapat kasi 25 na ang flagdown. Tapos 2 piso bawat patak. Eh piso-piso pa rin itong metro ko."
"Oo na."
And then right before you pay, he'll go: "Dagdagan niyo na lang ng kwarenta."
"Aba! Sabi mo dadagdagan ko, di mo sinabi kung magkano!"

(Lord, grant us patience. But make it quick!)

Taxis are now my enemies. As a teenager I used to fear getting into them (I think I heard too many cab rape urban legends). Then I sorta got used to them a few years back. Now they do all they can to make you feel like you, as the consumer, the customer, have no choice and must be thankful for however they treat you since there aren't that many taxis who'll take you where you're going.

One of these days I will put on an itty bitty mask and shoot the tires off any cab that refuses me. I will call myself the Cabvenger. I will exact my brand of justice on those who deem they are above the law. I will be the sword of the downtrodden commuters waiting outside Glorietta. Cab drivers will see my neon green mask and know fear in their insufferable hearts! (Cue the Mighty Mouse theme song.) And maybe, I might even wear my underwear outside of my pants, just like Batman.

Or then again, maybe I should just buy a slingshot and carry around rocks.

* *
Meanwhile, the Edsa MRT (MetroRail Trainsit) has taken another price cut, this one being the-- third, or is it fourth?-- fare cut since day one. Are more people riding it now? The answer is a definite yes. After all, whizzing by while vehicles congest at Santolan and Cubao is well worth the extra price. Their biggest problem is now getting those damn security guards to check people's bags faster before the trains leave.

Which brings me to that deplorable new habit of every major urban area: the security checkpoint.

Every mall entrance has one, every MRT station has one... I keep expecting to have to show the contents of my stupid knapsack at church. (Which is actually a good place to bomb if you think about it. No security guards, then you send the believers straight to their god. Of course you also damn yourself to an eternity of boils, scabs and filling up income tax returns for the Chinese Mafia.) They poke a stick thru your bag's contents, not appearing to know what it is they are in search of. At least in the Glorietta area, they have pictures of possible bomb devices: wires, bottles, plastic cases, timers. One time the guards insisted I open up my lunch tupperware. Too bad I'd washed it clean after eating otherwise they would've had a zesty little aroma to inspect. Yes, I know this is supposed to keep my metropolis and urban centers safe. Funny, but security guards in this country don't make me feel safe at all.

Damn those stupid mall bombers. Made our little lives just that much more difficult. Now we have to contend with an invasion of privacy above all the other details. And what exactly did they accomplish? Well they sent a big, lumbering message out to everyone that they know how to bomb a walkway when there aren't that many people about. Ignoramuses. You want to send a message of anarchy out? Toss molotov cocktails down onto the pedestrian crossing between Landmark and Glorietta at lunchtime. That'll get everyone's goat. You'll see.

* *

So what now? Fare hikes are coming soon. Oil prices are going up. The dollar to peso rate is astounding. Things are getting ugly. We spend a fourth of our lives in traffic. Another fourth asleep. The other two quarters having our bags checked by security guards who -- I bet-- have never confiscated ANYTHING they've seen in a bag.

Sigh.

Good thing I don't have to pass by any malls to get home to my loving harem of Pharaoh girls.

Good night.

< end transmission>

<author bio >
Perennial commuter Rene Diwa has recently been appointed the "Urban Commuter", having the baton passed to him by the recently married (and therefore indisposed?) Lionel Valdellon. By day, Rene is a computer geek. By night, he scours the wastelands for prospective members of this harem he insists lives in his apartment. Yeah right.