DAVAO CITY (MindaNews/14 July) – And so it happened: my mom’s nightmare – me getting in trouble in the wee hours.
At about 3:30 a.m. Wednesday, on my way home, some hooded crooks (who were as young as me) held me up and bagged a whopping 370 pesos amount of cash. You cheap dorks!
And did I see this coming? My mother, who was aware of my nocturnal behavior, probably did. I guess I saw it coming too: one minute before it happened – when I saw the hooded duo charge at me.
Why it happened
God knows why it happened. Maybe the hooded duo’s family were poor. Maybe they needed a pedicure. Maybe they needed to buy pirated DVD copies of Transformers 3, Gossip Girl and Monte Carlo. Maybe they needed new hoodies. I don’t know.
It wasn’t supposed to happen. Davao to me, after all, seemed safe because I’ve never experienced trouble even when I go home late from night outs, from work, or from gluttonous midnight snacks in Jollibee Bolton.
Until Wednesday’s surprise: the first ever in my entire life.
You see, I’m an amazingly nocturnal person. I do a lot of things at night: writing, Facebook-ing, thinking about future articles, watching movies, etc. On Fridays (or Saturday midnights?), I spend extra hours in the Mindanao Times newsroom proofreading pages of Saturday issues.
I never had problems going home. I would always arrive home safely. To me, the time between 12 midnight to 5 a.m. has its own “safe frames.” 1-3:59 a.m. is when the partyphiles in this city go home; 4-4:59 a.m. is when the folks from the wet market of this city busy themselves with their merchandise (it’s also a time for health conscious people to wake up for an early morning jog.
I completely believed that I was safe – all the time.
Apparently, I wasn’t.
Because after an early breakfast meal in Jollibee Bolton, after a short walk to C.M. Recto, and right after my companion rode a jeep home, at the kanto of our own house, I was held up.
Two hooded guys charged at me. The one who was wearing a navy hoodie kept his right hand on his hoodie’s pocket; the other guy who was wearing white rested both his hands (his fingers interlocked with each other) on top of his head – weird right?
Navy blue guy, who made it seem like he had a gun tucked in his hoodie (I didn’t dare challenge my doubt) immediately demanded from me 100 pesos. Before I could even reply, he upped his request – err, demand to 200.
It took me seconds to realize that I was being held up! I immediately pulled my purse out and handed him a wad of bills, which I’m pretty sure amounted to 370.
I guess I trembled in fear for a second or two: I remember telling – okay, begging them to leave me alone. White guy threatened they were going to kill me. But after my pitiful request not to, they left me alone.
I was stunned. I didn’t know where to go. The dorks went into the direction I was headed to: the alley on our way to our house! WTF!?
I walked back and forth for a couple of seconds and then decided to go home by passing by an alternative and more risky route: an alley that lead to Padre Gomez Street.
I didn’t know where else to go. And I wanted to go home. I badly wanted to sit in my desk and write about this whole thing.
It was funny because I was more afraid while walking on my way home than I was when the hooded duo harassed me. I was afraid to see them for the second time and in the worst place: the soulless Padre Gomez Street.
I arrived home and immediately reported (via online) to whom I now call my midnight mother: Mindanao Times’ layout artist Ana Silpao. I told her what happened. I wasn’t exactly traumatized. It was just like a movie: it happened and it ended!
I was amazed at myself because I was still able to pull off jokes about the stick up – right after it happened! I immediately logged on to Facebook when I safely got inside my room and posted a status that read “BREAKING NEWS: gi-hold up ko. seriously. where’s my psychokinetic powers when i needed it the most?!”
Concerned friends, those who were still awake, that is, expressed their concern and asked me whether I was fine.
I was fine; not a scratch.
Apparently, when you’re being held up, everything happens so fast that it’s almost impossible to feel overwhelmed with fear.
I told my friend Chi that the crooks only managed to get 370 pesos from me; I told her they were cheap. She probably LOL-ed and posted that I should have given more for their transportation allowance.
My cousin Francis from Los Angeles, who was still online at that time, told me that I should have carried a gun with me. I replied that I couldn’t; that I wasn’t Hercules or Robin Padilla. A wand would have been more appropriate. But he suggested even more girly: an umbrella.
A friend from Hungary sort of scolded me and asked the question I was pretty sure my mom would also ask me: What are you doing walking around at 4 in the morning anyway?
So what do I learn from all of this?! That I shouldn’t be walking on Davao’s streets at dawn? That I should call McDelivery if I’m hungry? That crooks should stop being poor and start getting a decent job? That I should practice shooting fireballs from my fingers?
I’ll let you do the scolding. Email me: [email protected]