overload
(click to play) It was a hot afternoon (a rare occurrence this time of year) when we found ourselves somewhere along Jasmine Street. Sweating in the quaint home of a nice lady named Baby, we waited until the last of our five respondents had left to pack up our things and leave. Our next destination would be some area along Saint Vincent street that Kuya Fernan, a barangay worker who was helping us with our thesis, had picked out himself. The five of us, including Kuya Fernan himself, piled into Rap's car. Rap backed up the car as we prepared to exit onto San Simon. As the tail of the car neared a wall, it let out a series of high-pitched beeps. "Ano yan?" inquired Kuya Fernan. "Wala yan, Kuya," we assured him. "Ah, akala ko yung katulad ng LRT. Na-overload." We laughed. Cheryl added, "Parang nasa elevator lang din." Only half an hour later, we were in a house along Saint Vincent street, scrambling to assist the nice people who had ...
