The young and lazy drunkard’s guide to the MRT*

*The MRT discussed in the following article refers to the Metro Rail Transit, which is the best train system in the world. Or at least to masochists, MRT employees, and the government contractors who built the damn thing.
Traversing Epiphanio de los Santos Avenue—popularly known as EDSA, the site of the country’s two political upheavals—the train system allows its passengers to travel from north to south and vice-versa in discomfort, inconvenience, and inefficiency unparalleled since the rickshaw.
Thanks to poor planning, government indifference, and plain old engineering incompetence, the train’s stations, if not congested and poorly-maintained (North Avenue for instance where ticket lines reach the bottom of the station’s stairs especially during rush hour) are rarely maximized and ill-conceptualized (Santolan, for example, which is one of the most useless structures in the system, let alone the city. At any given time, it houses seven people, two of whom are passengers, four are employees, and last, a security guard always trying his best to stay awake.)

EVER since males allowed females to enjoy the same rights, members of the weaker gender have immediately seized the opportunity to tip the scales in their favor.

Besides moving out of the bedroom and into the boardroom, women have quickly grown to dominate men’s lives, waking them up in the morning so that they can get to work on time, disallowing them to drink beer at night, and—in a blatant disregard for the various UN human rights conventions—forbidding many to surf for porn.

However, among the various tools of gender oppression foisted on many young, hardworking, able-bodied Filipino men (many of whom are God’s gift to FHM), nothing compares to the policy of giving females, children, the disabled and the elderly the exclusive right to occupy the first front car of any MRT train.

This is nothing but patent discrimination.

Previously, the transport facility allowed everyone—the deaf, the drunk, and the demented, whether they had fake breasts or not—to squeeze their filthy bodies into a few inches of space that would suffocate a canned sardine.

However, that egalitarian arrangement has been lost.

Now, most Filipino male passengers are relegated to the other cars, forcing them to mingle with their fellow males, who generally find each other intolerable, even in environments free from heat, athlete’s foot, and sweaty armpits.

But young, lazy, carless, and able-bodied drunkards need not despair.

This space has compiled two very important tips to get around the discriminatory arrangement currently implemented at the MRT. These are, as follows:

1) Buy a cane, walk with a limp, and make a pained facial expression every time you move forward.

Since this country never had any respect for the disabled, anyone with a limp and a pained expression on his face can get away with virtually anything, including boarding a train car reserved exclusively for young, pretty women. Once you get through the turnstiles, simply hobble along towards the front of the station until you reach an area where they separate the lucky bitches from the unlucky bastards.

Once inside the car—which, according to some, smells more like a powder room than an actual passenger carrier—pretend that you deserve the privileged treatment. If you are unable to prevent yourself from ogling women, do so subtly. Never go around making suggestive assertions such as: “Hey babe. Want to check out my other cane?”

2) Purchase a baby doll, pretend its your newborn baby, and simply carry on.

Despite warnings made by Al Gore, Greenpeace, and others about global warming—which is brought about by increasing human consumption of goods and services—we have been trained, since we have been babies ourselves, to welcome and celebrate the birth of each single baby into this world.

(There are supposedly 10,000 of these little critters born each day**, not counting China where the saying “you’re one in a million” does not mean much. With a population of one billion, being one in a million only means that you share that distinction—whatever that might be—with 999 other individuals. What’s so special about that?)

Therefore, anyone seen lugging a baby earns pity points*** and is entitled to seating at the train’s special car to ensure the baby’s comfort. Just remember one thing: breastfeeding is still best for babies of up to two years.****

**I’m not actually sure about this.

***phrase originally coined by Larry David. Go get your DVDs of Curb Your Enthusiasm from your friendly DVD pirate to appreciate his genius.

****Since this was sourced from a radio commercial, its veracity cannot be confirmed as of this writing.

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