You decide to go to work quite dressed up. Despite the temptation to slack and dress in a shirt, sweater, jeans and sneakers ensemble, you go the preppy route. It was cold. Take the opportunity to layer, why don't you? You are then transported to the international airport for your meeting via old kog kog government bus that drips and kills you slowly with the carbon monoxide smell.

Adrenaline Rush #1: driving on the airport tarmac
You see this wide open concrete highway and you realize... shit, you're on the runway. Then you see the huge planes. Korean Air, Thai Airways.. they're close enough to touch, if you can get that close. You're tempted to jump in one of those planes to take you hopefully to.... moving on...

Adrenaline Rush #2: going inside the Dignitaries' Lounge
You go up through the authorized personnel parts of the airport and you're herded to the lounge where supposedly all big wigs are received. The room's not that luxurious to live up to it's name, but it has that feel of importance and history. Hmmm... maybe it's the smell of old couches and carpet.

You are then all herded back to the police station for a briefing near the airport where you think no end is in sight. You get messages from officemates back at work saying they've called off work and you feel like cursing everyone responsible for involving you in this shenanigan. Despite the possible flooding all over the Metro, the police force says yes... you may go on with the simulation. Drive all over even in horrendous traffic and floods for all they care. You sulk, wish that the day was over.

Adrenaline Rush #3: having your own convoy
You are told that you have to drive back to the airport, then to the hotel, then to the venue of the gala dinner. You try to complain... Shietous day this was turning out to be. Till you see your ride. A brand new sedan, very lightly tinted, leather interiors, and a plate that says "minister." It is a simulation after all... you own it. Be the "minister," you are the "minister." You have your very own driver and security officer with you in the car. You're scared to sneeze for fear of ingraining germs in the extremely clean interiors. Up front is your own motorcycle sweeper that cuts through and stops traffic, counter flows, beats red lights so your convoy can pass. Behind you is a police car with sirens to harass the motorists to get out of the way. You can see people outside trying to find out who this biggie is in the car. You control your giggles and giddy fits.. must maintain poise and grace, must look the part, must not show that what you really want to do is take a picture inside the car or roll down the windows and shout "pakshyet! ang sarap sumakay dito!!!"

The ride of your life eventually ends. You're driven back to reality, still in luxury using the new car but sans the convoy that allowed you to cruise through traffic. You realize that you're not a minister, you're not even a foreigner. Although you extremely enjoyed the ride, you know that it's not your life and that getting used to that lifestyle is not normal. You are reminded of your college Theo of Liberation, of social sin and all that. And you remember the occasional feeling of shame when you passed by all the motorists stuck in traffic, stress on occasional.

Being a VIP for the afternoon sure was a blast. But then riding in chauffeur driven cars is not the epitome of being a VIP. With great power comes great responsibility. You walk back home, hopping about in the rain thinking what a lucky git you are today. It's one of those out of this world days that may never happen again. Oh well. It was great while it lasted.