“Die Hard” was a term coined back from Pisay days. We refer it jokingly to players who would exert their last ounce of effort to save the ball – never mind if you dive like a kamikaze, go skittering across the pavement, and risk breaking a limb, if it all meant saving a single yet crucial point for the team.
By all means, I was making my NY stay the “die hard” way. Time was the enemy and any moment spent resting is precious time lost. By the time I got back to the hotel, my entire body was already protesting and craving to rest. The comfort of the soft pillow, the wooly blanket and the cold blast of the aircon was sooooo tempting you could have Anna Nicole Smith naked in there and I would still opt to have a long and deep slumber. After all when push comes to shove, sleep comes first in Maslow’s hierarchy of needs.
But I promised my Tita Acay Remy that I would pass by their place. It was in Mushulu Parkway which was on the other side of New York City and it meant going back downtown again. (Damnit, next time never book in an airport hotel). I was almost tempted to cancel the appointment- I was too damn exhausted.
But the other side of me thought that I rarely get the opportunity to meet my relatives in New York, whereas I could have all the rest and sleep I want back in the Philippines. (I am glutton when it comes to sleeping.)
So I did it the Die Hard” way and headed back to downtown at 7 pm. There was only one train exchange which was convenient as I was dozing off the entire time. As the train was approaching to Moshulu parkway, which was at the near end of the Bronx area, I noticed during my torpid state, that the passenger skin tones became darker and darker.
I’ve heard lots of crime stories in the Bronx ( the Tondo version of New York) so I was really wary when I boarded off the station. The site was an awful mess really -skewed turnstiles, busted phone booths, dimly lit stairways, graffiti on walls, stench of urine and alcohol – the typical NY subway crime scene you get to see in movies. I ran as fast as I could and only stopped when I saw a well-lit convenience store with a phone booth a block away from the station.
My Tito Bubot picked me up. Their place was a little bit cramped but I was somehow amazed that they were able to fit all their butingtings in the apartment. You know, the usual Pinoy accoutrements- an altar, Sto. Nino, a painting of the last supper, souvenir items from long forgotten weddings and debuts, photo albums.
Tito Bubot and Tita Acay Remy used to be teachers in my hometown and had moved to the Big Apple about a decade ago in search for the American Dream. They are third degree cousins of my mother. Tita Acay Belen, another relative was staying with them. My mom and the 2 Tita Acays were co-teachers in my Alma Mater. I was quite amused to recall that these Tita Acays were the two teachers I feared most – their strictness was well known among my schoolmates. Hell, I could still even recall the two instances Tita Acay Belen scolded me in class.
How quaint, my elementary years were sandwiched by two terror teachers: Tita Acay Remy, kindergarten; Tita Acay Belen, grade 6. Never would I have ever imagined when I was in Elementary that I would someday be having dinner with them in New York City.
A feast they served and how - crabs, prawns, tuna, chicken- it almost felt like I was back home eating at Kamayan restaurant. The trip was well worth it. Tita Acay explained that it’s almost like the Philippines there with all the ingredients of typical Filipino food available and reasonably priced.
We exchanged stories. I gave them updates of the hometown happenings. They recounted their tales – the difficulties they had to go through until finally getting the sought-after green card. In true Filipino fashion, they gave some pasalubong for the folks back home. It was almost midnight when they drove me back to the hotel
And so came the end of my New York journey. I was just happy to finally get some shut-eye.
In the movie Die Hard, Bruce Willis saves the world, kills the bad guys and gets the girl.
In my life story, at least in this episode, there’s no world to save, no bad guys to kill, no girl to get. But at least, the good guy, after a long and tiring yet eventful journey, gets to have the rest he well deserved. That I guess makes a good happy ending for now.
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