4/29/2006
Holdap 'to!
How catchier could it get? Should titles be really something that is quintessential? Why not something direct to the point instead?
Anyway, this post is not an argument on which is the most effective headline or title for a written piece. Rather, I would recount an experience that I know could happen to anyone, have occurred to some people I know, and I having a close call.
It all started when a friend of mine invited me out. They were already in Malate while I just arrived home from a basketball game with my buddies. I was leisurely having a late dinner when my friend messaged me to join them.
Since I was in no hurry, I took my time preparing myself while she kept bugging me through SMS. I told her I’m on my way.
As I was waiting for a jeepney at the corner of P. Sanchez and Bagumbayan, I was checking my mobile every now and then since she kept pestering me with messages. After a few minutes of standing, I saw that the PUJs were making a U-turn at the gasoline station near Sevilla Bridge. So I proceeded there.
As I was walking, I heard footsteps coming from behind. I quickened my pace a bit and I heard the steps behind go faster. Suddenly, a hand grabbed the back of my shirt and he ordered, “Don’t move!”
My first instinct was to struggle so I started shifting and turned to face my assailant with his hand still clutching my shirt. The only sound I heard come out of my mouth were short bellows of “Hey!”
He wasn’t budging and I heard my shirt rip off me. Once I was free, I sprinted towards the pedicab terminal at the corner.
I shouted, “Quick! To Abad Santos (That’s not the hospital. That’s where I live, dimwit)!” They (yes, there were two of them) didn’t bother chasing me although I looked back once in a while to see if they also hailed a tricycle to pursue me.
I could see myself panting but I couldn’t feel the air coming in and out of my respiratory system. My mind was racing.
What bothered me is that the pedicab driver seemed nonchalant with what just happened. Questions were popping in my mind like Pop Rocks with Coke in my mouth. It’s no use ranting “Where’s Batman when you need him?” I would just sound preachy. In the first place, you must have heard the same old questions whenever this happens to you or to someone you know.
Yeah, this left me scarred. Although I’m not yet King Paranoia, my ears catch the slightest screech of rubber coming from behind.
It’s no use cowering in fear. If it’s your time, it’s your time.I still go out at night.
Anyway, this post is not an argument on which is the most effective headline or title for a written piece. Rather, I would recount an experience that I know could happen to anyone, have occurred to some people I know, and I having a close call.
It all started when a friend of mine invited me out. They were already in Malate while I just arrived home from a basketball game with my buddies. I was leisurely having a late dinner when my friend messaged me to join them.
Since I was in no hurry, I took my time preparing myself while she kept bugging me through SMS. I told her I’m on my way.
As I was waiting for a jeepney at the corner of P. Sanchez and Bagumbayan, I was checking my mobile every now and then since she kept pestering me with messages. After a few minutes of standing, I saw that the PUJs were making a U-turn at the gasoline station near Sevilla Bridge. So I proceeded there.
As I was walking, I heard footsteps coming from behind. I quickened my pace a bit and I heard the steps behind go faster. Suddenly, a hand grabbed the back of my shirt and he ordered, “Don’t move!”
My first instinct was to struggle so I started shifting and turned to face my assailant with his hand still clutching my shirt. The only sound I heard come out of my mouth were short bellows of “Hey!”
He wasn’t budging and I heard my shirt rip off me. Once I was free, I sprinted towards the pedicab terminal at the corner.
I shouted, “Quick! To Abad Santos (That’s not the hospital. That’s where I live, dimwit)!” They (yes, there were two of them) didn’t bother chasing me although I looked back once in a while to see if they also hailed a tricycle to pursue me.
I could see myself panting but I couldn’t feel the air coming in and out of my respiratory system. My mind was racing.
What bothered me is that the pedicab driver seemed nonchalant with what just happened. Questions were popping in my mind like Pop Rocks with Coke in my mouth. It’s no use ranting “Where’s Batman when you need him?” I would just sound preachy. In the first place, you must have heard the same old questions whenever this happens to you or to someone you know.
Yeah, this left me scarred. Although I’m not yet King Paranoia, my ears catch the slightest screech of rubber coming from behind.
It’s no use cowering in fear. If it’s your time, it’s your time.I still go out at night.
// posted by Unknown @ 16:59 
