VIOLENCE IN MANILA
My time in China had run out.
In 2010, returning to Tulsa for angioplasty after a heart attack while watching late night Chinese television in my apartment in Zhanjiang, and subsequent return to China in 2012, I once again was in the air.
At this point, permit me to say that ignorance is not blissful. I found this out the hard way.
To satisfy obligatory conditions of my visa, I took a short flight to Guangzhou, after deplaning, and an aborted attempt to board a connecting flight, I was detained for overstaying my multiple entry visa by 30 days. After a two year stay in Oklahoma working my way through the Veterans Administration clinics and hospitals I chose a multiple entry visa over the one year uninterrupted stay visa I had used before and with the help of my Chinese wife stayed four years before I left due to poor health.
I had, without due diligence, decided to opt for the multiple entry visa in the mistaken belief that I could leave the country as many times as I wished and return as long as I was within the one year designated time period.
I had rented a nice apartment in a better neighborhood than my former wife and I had lived with the intention of luring a beautiful, middle aged, compliant Chinese female. Classic case yellow fever. Self diagnosis. A late bloomer adventurer I had no plans to return to America. That is, until I attempted to comply with my visa requirements.
Too bad I had waited longer than required by Chinese law. Big fucking mistake – and costly.
Immigration summoned airport security and I was escorted to a private room where I was informed I would need an exit visa. I thought, well, this isn’t too bad. Maybe I got lucky. There are those who are lucky – then there is I. Totally clueless to the fate I unwittingly placed myself because I ain’t too bright and didn’t know what a multiple entry visa was.
Until I did what I suspected I was supposed to do initially. Leave China after 90 days for one day and then return. Simple. I was on my way to Hong Kong when I was forbidden to board my flight.Now, the fun began.I am informed I must have an exit visa to leave China. No problem. Stamp my passport and I’ll be on my way. Right? Wrong.
Taken to a government facility somewhere in Guangzhou where a long process of applying for an exit visa was begun. Did I say long? Expensive? Stressful? Two weeks in a middle class hotel, taxi to and from the
government building. Ten week days plus two weekends. Each day filled out forms and received instructions from ? Whomever. Seemingly endless process until finally I got my now coveted exit visa.
I bought a China Airways ticket to the Philippines where upon arrival I booked a room in a medium priced hotel in Manila. Already I have wasted several thousand dollars because of my ignorance. Now, more of the same. I must go to the China Embassy and begin the process of applying for a new visa to reenter China where all my worldly possessions reside in my uninhabited apartment with no one to check on my belongings. This process, including procurement of documents not in my possession took another two weeks of costs for lodging, food, transportation, etc. At least the cable tv had porn channels.
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Two weeks of nights to kill in Manila. Bars, girls, beer. Girls, beer, bars. Beer, bar, girls. Happenstance had delivered me into the arms of an angel.
I was badly in need of a shave and hair cut so one morning as I explored the neighborhood I found a not too upscale shop/salon not far from my hotel and stumbled in. A young woman wearing a low cut top was revealing more cleavage than the law of good tastes permit. I fell in love
instantly. I love tits! Immediately began to flirt. She was receptive to my advances and we dated for the next two weeks as I again divided my time gathering info for my new China visa and chasing this young , attractive Filipina. I would eventually secure my visa and return to China. I gave away everything that would not fit into a suitcase, settled all my pressing affairs, bought a ticket and returned to Manila.
That’s life. Frank said it best.
Philippines. Beer. Red Horse. Red Horse is the first extra-strong beer brand in the Philippines. It is a high-alcohol lager of the San Miguel Brewery, with an alcohol content of 6.9% abv. It is deeply hued lager with a distinctive, sweetish taste, balanced by a smooth bitterness. For the man with real strength, inside and out. A strong, high alcohol beer.
My newly acquired best friend and companion, Jenny, and I drank Red Horse in the liter size. 33.8 ounces of golden elixir to eradicate all your problems and create others. Jenny worked as cashier in a large salon tha located in an area that, luckily for me, supported many bars, and as a bonus, many of her relatives* either worked in, or owned a bar.
- Requires an explanation. There is one’s immediate family – blood relatives.
- Then, we have the extended family which consists of anyone you or they have ever done a favor. The extended family can become quite
large. If another has favored you in some manner you are obligated (lifetime) until the favor has been returned. And, you cannot refuse a request on a debt owed.
The owner of the salon employed eight barbers, stylists, and a gay manicurist. And ALL loved to drink Red Horse beer after the shop closed. All were from the provinces and slept upstairs in or on anything available. Then, periodically they would return to their families for a few days reunion then return to Manila to resume their jobs. (English is National language in Philippines) I, being the friendly sort of fellow who loves a good conversation that is enhanced by the consumption of alcoholic beverages quite naturally adapted to these, usually, nightly nonsensical and drunken assemblages whereupon every worldly problem was discussed with no resolution being achieved until slowly, one by one, the participants fell by the wayside. The Red Horse dominated, dictated and decided all issues. After a few hours no one was left to present or belabor a point.
It is easy to discern that an individual cannot survive on a continual diet of one liter Red Horse. So, thankfully, a respite was provided in the presence of San Miguel Lite. A light and reduced-calorie lager with an exceptionally smooth and crispy taste. It is less filling and light on the
stomach. Perfect for fun, light drinking moments with friends.
Occasionally, there were not enough members of the club to assemble a quorum and Jenny and I would hit the bars. K A R A O K E . Filipina love karaoke. How much do they love karaoke? This much: brawls have been
started and people injured over whose turn it was to sing along with “The Chairman Of The Board” when the little vinyl disc began blasting out MY WAY. That’s how much they love karaoke & Sinatra.
When we were exploring , or running errands , shopping, doing anything that required transportation rather than take a taxi which is somewhat expensive, the favored mode of travel is the Jeepney. Very cheap but an
exercise in aggravation. An experience I would liken to a canned sardine. But cheap.
Often I would run out of meds and go somewhere in Manila to see a doctor for a script. Often rode in a Jeepney. Colorful, outrageous, cramped, automotive genius, part truck, part bus, always a pain in the ass (wood bench seats), ugly and inconceivable – but I loved them. A Philippine icon. Jeepney – noun, plural jeep·neys. a Philippine twin-benched jitney bus, seating about a dozen passengers.
Jenny and I were eating dinner in a restaurant across the street from the salon. After we finished eating we decided to stop and say hi to everyone. The business resides in two large rooms that once was two different businesses separated by a wall that defined their respective operations. The salon owner purchased the adjoining premises , tore down the wall, doubled the size of her footprint. One half is the barber side with eight chairs, full length mirror wall and supply closet.
The cashier cubicle is in the center of the store so she has all visitors in line of sight. The side opposite the barber chairs is seating for customers and a makeshift workstation for the manicurist with hairdryer for the ladies. Jenny is standing next to the nail person enjoying a pleasant conversation and I am standing next to her. My two years in TULSA waiting for the VA to fix me were not a total waste. Regular hours, good sleep habits, improved diet, long walks and a weight lifting program. When I returned to China I tipped the scales at 202 pounds. Not all muscle, not all fat. But I was stout. And closer to being fearless than reserved.
Lost in my thoughts and waiting for Jenny to finish her conversation almost unnoticeable to me a huge individual walked calmly to the small table beside where Jen had placed her purse. Again, calmly, he picked up her purse and demanded that she come with him to a bar close to the shop. Now he has my attention. He is also pushing and verbally abusing the manicurist who is trying unsuccessfully to get him to return the purse. I am dumbfounded as to why no one in salon has taken notice and confronted this bastard. A pushing – shoving – cursing battle ensues for a couple of minutes.This guy is big. Maybe 275, 300 pounds. But not hard.
I am standing on a landing that leads to the second floor stairs thinking why the hell no one is doing anything to stop this bellicose SOB. Big Boy, with Jenny’s handbag still in hand, turns and heads for the entrance. Decision time. Take action now or allow him to vacate the premises with a purse he has forcibly taken from my girlfriend. He’s 20 feet away in front of me facing away towards the wall of glass that is the store front.
I bull rushed him. Hitting him with all the force I could gather with a twenty foot running start. Squarely in the center of his
back, down he goes, sliding on all fours. Then, the lights go out – my lights. Blind, total darkness. I need to locate this guy and knock him senseless before he can regain his composure and come at me. Perhaps I
blinked once or twice then the lights came on again. I survey the area searching for him. There he is, crumpled under a barber chair in the next room being helped up by two employees. I rushed to him and began to
plummet him in the face with lefts and rights. More bystanders pull me off him, and Jenny with two friends hustle me upstairs and out of sight before the police arrive.
I think I need a Red Horse. Exactly what a 70 year old man needs after a (K)night of chivalry. I have had men tell me that after a fight in which they were a participant and their wife or girlfriend witnessed the violence they later were rewarded with the best sex of their lives. The violence was a turn on for the females.
Aggressive behavior comes in two forms. The first is “reactive impulsive,” which are responses to external threats. The second is “appetitive-aggressive,” which is internally motivated. It is derived from the intrinsic pleasure that is associated with violence, hunting, and combat. In keeping with studies that have found women’s preferences for “bad boys” and socially dominant men for short-term mating, the investigators wondered if appetitive aggressiveness might also be an advertisement of good genes. They also speculated that women may be drawn to truculent men during ovulation, when the interest in short-term mating for good genes is at its peak. The Allure of Aggressive Men. A new study illuminates why women can find combativeness attractive.
After waiting upstairs for an hour or so for everything to calm down and possibly avoiding the police and a potential stay in accommodations not conducive to physical and mental health – a Philippine jail, we collected our wits and wandered into the streets seeking a quiet bar to enjoy a couple of beers.
A few hours of drinking, and we returned to the hotel for a well deserved night of rest, sleep, and a little pleasure. The next morning after breakfast we decided to return to the salon to attempt to sort out the previous evenings events. The individual who had started all the trouble had already been here, with apologetically appropriateness, stated he was drunk and humbly took his leave. After all the facts were assembled they revealed he was enamored with Jenny as she had been the cashier & waitress at a bar he frequented.
He was also a Lesbian!
My masculinity & ego had suffered a tremendous gut punch. I had assaulted a woman!
Time to quit the Red Horse.
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