What better way to start the week than getting stuck in a horrendous traffic jam on a Monday morning. I was on top of a bridge on my way to Makati when traffic decided to go on a standstill. That bridge in the US that collapsed immediately came to mind. I was actually listening to a dirge-like music coming from my car’s CD player that’s currently playing Tchaikovsky (I know another bourgeoisie indulgence) and thought how fitting it would be if the bridge was indeed to collapse.
Fitting and terrible of course. For one, if everyone on top of that bridge were to be buried by all the rubble, for sure, somebody’s bound to call for help, but because it’s rush hour, we’ll only be rescued the following day when the area would be besmirched by the sweet-stinking smell of rotting flesh. I would prefer that I be punctured in the leg (the fleshy portion of course) minus any nerve damage. I can already see myself recuperating in some private room in a hospital somewhere, milking my HMO for what they’re worth.
Of course I’ll be off work. I’ll have the SO bring the DVD and that stack of unwatched DVDs in my room and I’ll have a field day choosing which one to watch first. I’ll be in pain no doubt, but what are pain relievers for? I’ll also ensure never to smile in the presence of my officemates who’d be sure to visit me, and if I do laugh at one of their silly jokes, or force myself to laugh if I have to, ill make sure to stop after a sec and pretend to wince in pain. That should work.
And the boss? Well, I’ll offer to work from the hospital of course, an offer that we both know is only lip service. Gah, enough of this morbid day dreaming.
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