I used to be a heavy drinker. It started in Kapatagan, Laanao del Norte where I worked as PACD Barrio Development Worker. In the house where we rented a small room, I was initiated to the weekly frolic of drinking and dancing with our host couple and two other couples in the neighborhood. The exclusive party was held in the high-ceiling living room. Each couple would pitch-in a bottle or two “longed-neck” Tanduay Rhum and some pulutan. In each Saturday gathering, I consumed at least one bottle of the rum. After three hours of drinking, I would get drunk but remained alert and active. Thanks to the pulutan and the dancing with my wife as partner.
Years later when I was assigned in Don Carlos, Bukidnon as Municipal Development Officer, I drank with the punong barangays (PB) after the regular meetings of the Association of Barangay Councils (ABC). Most of the village heads drank but only a few stayed long.
On one occasion, I joined the ABC President and two other PBs to continue our fun in another town when our regular venue closed for the night. One of the PBs came to the meeting with his jeep tagging a trailer cart loaded with sugarcane tops for planting. We used his jeep in going to the more urbanized town of Valencia, about 60 kilometers away. At the town center, he veered the jeep to the direction of the Pulangi River and queued through a narrow alley to a seedy place. He parked the jeep, with the fully-loaded cart, in front of a cheap nightspot. We ordered a “long-neck” bottle of Tanduay Rhum and the two available ladies.
The village head who was familiar to the place, was soon busy fondling with one of the ladies. I preferred to be left alone with my glass and gave way to the ABC President, who had to do something with the other lady, more for show and out of bravado. Our table mates, wearing cheap heavy make ups and wrapped in equally cheap but sexy garments, lost no time in kowtowing to their perspiring, smelly and groggy customers.
We stayed in that nicotine reeking joint for about the one-hour and a half travel time in going there. We decided to cut short our fun when two gun-toting soldiers entered the crowded place, looking for fun. (It was the third year of Martial Law).
Somebody took over the wheel from the semiconscious owner and we traded jokes to keep the driver awake. Two of my companions escorted me to the house before going to their lodging places. It was passed 2:00 a.m.
My wife refused to hear my knocks and calls, so I scaled the wall at the back and slipped through a gap. I did not want to disturb the children soundly asleep upstairs, much more to risk a strong admonition from my wife for coming home late, so I sled under the sofa in the living room and was immediately asleep.
The sound of slippers woke me up and I had a glimpse of my wife’s amused face at the sight of her husband under the furniture. I pretended not to notice and my wife pretended I was not around and continued her morning routine of sweeping the cement floor with the guiyong broom.
