Glad to be of service

There I was, sitting in the hotel. I've had only about four hours of sleep in 48 hours and I didn't feel too pleased. No, I didn't feel bad about not getting sleep, I felt bad about having to be stuck in a hotel (to watch over a room full of bags) with only two companions... that while everybody else would be cheering the day away over at Taft.

But they did not get to cheer the day away, and I did not get to nonchalantly watch over bags.

First came a mother's frantic call to one of my companions, checking on him for a supposed bombing. We turned the TV on and the only indication of a bombing we saw was one that happened in Pakistan. Nothing unusual we thought. Then came a call from the LSG Secretary to my phone, a distraught voice broke the silence and an act of terrorism that just happened a couple of blocks away became apparent. She asked me to compose a message, frantically asking me to cramp a great deal of information in as brief a message as possible and send them out to all of my batchmates; after all, there was really no pre-registration for the Salubong, we didn't quite have an inventory of who was there, no basis to determine if anyone was missing.

Hardly had I finished composing the first message when another message came: "Tell everyone the UP contingent is in McDonalds". Then came another: "WinLaw is in 7-11". And another: "WinLaw and Portia now in Starbucks". Then a turn for the tragic: "UP undergrad hit by shrapnel, frat rumble ongoing, do not leave the area unless with your orgs / with the UP contingent".

A drained battery and maxed out unlitxting later and I had (I'd like to think) successfully played the role of reporter-cum-animator. Nothing spectacular of course, and nothing to brag about, especially in an afternoon of jubilation made dire by an act of pure evil; after all, it was just text messages and a not too sophisticated phone. But, true to the spirit of bar operations, I was glad to be of service.

LUIS JOSE F. GERONIMO
Entry No. 15