the tug of war

As I write this post, a mixture of pineapple and orange juice slither down my throat. Ah, sugar. I need my sugar. I can feel my old self returning. I was thinking of the events that just happened why my sugar level plummeted. The weather is hot. Unbearably hot.

Don't get me wrong. I love the sun and the beach and the fact that I get a great tan after. The fact that I go to Boracay almost thrice a year proves that I love the sunny weather and the unlimited sun bathing opportunities I get. But if I do not see an ocean, or lake, or even simple man made body of water, I find the sun intolerable. It's heat that pains my skin, makes everything humid and sticky and gross causes me to hide in my room with the comforts of the AC. I've been like this since I was my baby, my mother said. Sol and I have a love-hate relationship.

Love and hate. I seem to have so much of that these days - and the airport police was no exception. Upon undergoing x-ray of my baggages, they placed my stuff on top of the table. Here it comes, I thought. They asked what's in it, and I answered pinakurat (spicy vinegar). How many are there was the next question, I answered five. We have to open it, they said. I paused to think if that was a question or a statement and how am I going to get out of that situation because once they open it, I am positive that it would not be allowed. So I asked a universally sticky question, why. The woman behind the counter looked at me irritably and said because it's part of the policy. And I asked why again. Because it is a corrosive, she replied. I argued that I was able to bring the same stuff last January. She said that they have rolled out the policy that such stuff should be placed on styrofoam containers. We had this exchange back and forth until I pulled out my phone. I still have the ace diamond, and this one will never fail. I started dialing and talked to someone while I stared intently at the woman. 

I don't want her to get in trouble, I just want alternative solutions. So let me talk to the ace of this place. Having spoken to my uncle who is the head of the MIAA they had to unpack the vinegar and repack it on their own which would be acceptable to their standards. I felt a slight sense of shame for making them look like idiots. Suddenly I don't hate them. I just wish they had more brains.