My Dirty Little Secret

I have something shocking to admit. Are you sitting down? Brace yourself. Ready? Here goes….

I smoked a pack of cigarettes yesterday.

What’s worse is this: I plan to smoke some more tomorrow, the next day, and the day after. No one can stop me. It’s a vicious cycle; like smoke rings into little smoke rings into even smaller smoke rings. I’m a pathological smoker with no regard for human frailty. Isn’t that terrible? I’m such a terrible person. My nerves are shocked, my lungs, now probably reduced to a pulp of gooey sinewy stuff, and my throat, consistently pounded by horny nicotine assault.

Now don’t get me wrong and think that this is far too easy for me to say even as I feel lucky to have millions of fans around the world, a cute and lovely 2-year-old daughter, who every time I discipline her says- “Galit ka?” and a wife who thinks I’m the most handsome human being on the planet. Hmm, I hope not Planet of the Apes.

I know that smoking will probably kill me and I have not done anything to prevent it. Although I often ask myself-
“Gusto ko ba talaga mamatay sa yosi? Gusto ko ba? Gusto ko ba?”
And sometimes, people close to me answer back-
“Mama, sino po ba kausap nyo?”.

I know for a fact that smoking does not in any way shape my mind, spirit, or future. I know I have no use for it but continue doing it anyway. You can say the same thing about sex but hey, sex is more fun and  I don’t know why I even bothered comparing smoking to sex in the first place…so forget I said that.

But come to think of it, smoking has always been, for the most part of my life, there for me. It serves as a loyal, constant companion, making my life a little less boring as it is. In every milestone, every twist and turn, in every step I take, we have been inseparable through the years, like E. Coli and room-temperature beef. It has been relentless in its pursuit to intoxicate me, amuse me, and at times, get me into all sorts of trouble.

*Flashback*
My first car mishap happened while I was smoking inside the car and tried to extinguish it by means of finger flick method with my right hand, my aim was horrible and the butt bounced off the ceiling and into my crotch. With no music on and the torch burning through my pants, this sent me into a disco-dancing frenzy. Terribly distracted, I stepped on the gas and hit the car in front of me running at 0 kph.
Then there was this one time where I smoked before watching a PBA game. So after I got the tickets, I went ahead to get popcorn and when it was my turn to order, I suddenly forgot how to speak!!! Okay, I just remembered this story has nothing to do with cigarettes. It’s just a funny marijuana story.

But if there’s one story about smoking I won’t forget it’s this next one.

Back in 2000, while I was waiting for the graduation ceremony to start, I got bored and decided to step out for a smoke. You see, I was supposed to be the first one to go up on stage and sincerely thought I had time for one drag. I was wrong. What happened within the next 10 minutes was a blur of catastrophic proportions. In fact, it still plays in slow motion in my head like a really bad B-movie dream sequence montage.
Ext. Parking lot, DLSU Manila, Graduation Day
Papa rushing out, running like a madapa-ka, fuming mad, shouting:
Papa

“Asan ka???!!! (X 100)
Papa:

Tinawag ka na!!! (X 50)
Papa:

Limang taon kita pinagaral! (X 1)”

Cut to:
Von ( V.O. )
I instantly flicked my half-finished cigarette butt into a ditch and instinctively ran inside the convention hall hoping everything was just a really bad dream. As I entered, the whole room was spinning underneath me; a dancing, dizzying hum buzzing in my head screaming- You stupid jerk!! I suddenly felt like a dog walking into a room not knowing why it went there in the first place. All around me echoed voices of clamor in irritating unison:
Parents and Students:

“Tinawag ka na, san ka nagpunta? Umalis na yata yung parents mo!”

Enraged, I demanded to go up on stage even as half of the security force was holding me back. At this point, a re-enactment of the last scene from King Kong the movie started taking shape. You know, that scene where Kong was engaged by military fighter planes on top of the Empire State Building and Ann Darrow was asking the whole squadron not to shoot Kong cause he didn’t know any better. Hmm, this reminds me, Cha, if you’re reading this…Kong is not his surname nor is King his first name.

It was a human pity show. Still, I felt hopeful. I could still turn this around! I had the sympathy of the students and parents. Everybody wanted to see King Kong win. I remember the dean telling me it was impossible for me to be allowed to go up a second time knowing I had missed the chance and they have never allowed exceptions.  So I did what any normal respectable human being would do, I told him to fuck off, arms flailing and legs kicking in the air in protest cause I didn’t care anymore and all I could think about was my parents and how upset they would be if they don’t see me get that diploma.

Then I thought- Okay…too late for that!
I felt helpless, like the light inside was starting to disappear and I am now somewhere over the Atlantic. I momentarily calmed down to talk to the dean in a desperate attempt to try to guilt my way out of this:
“Sir please sir, may anak ka ba???!! I need to go up there.”

He was about to say something but held back. And as we looked into each other’s eyes, I saw his now calm, forgiving facade. I instantly knew that a loving thought had passed between us, knew that as a man of power, he now had a chance to show everyone that people make mistakes, and it doesn’t matter how hard we fall, what matters is how quick we get back on our feet and that sometimes, people just need someone to understand and extend a helping hand.

Dean

“Hindi talaga pwede Mr. Dela Cruz!
Von

(Ala Homer Simpson)

“Dope!!! Why I’ll kill you you little…!!!” (choking gesture)

I then realized this guy is definitely…still single.

My last-ditch effort to induce some sense of understanding backfired. I was still frantically trying to free myself from 2 security personnel desperately trying to drag me outside and introduce me to the gutter. Applying the slip-and-slide maneuver I had learned from watching Chuck Norris movies when I was little and the choreography to  “Always” by the cheesy 90’s dance group Universal Motion Dancers, I was able to free myself and very quickly, ran like a madman on stage. My logic during that time was that if I can’t go up there…might as well put on a show.

Lo and behold! All of a sudden I was up on stage! I was exactly where I wanted to be. Everyone was staring, silence filled the air, you could cut the tension with a dull butter knife, I was sweating like a pig, I stared at blank faces, people stared back, waiting for my next move except-  I didn’t have a next move! I was looking down, looking for where my parents Bing and Manny were seated. I saw two empty seats. They left! I saw my ex-girlfriend holding a video recorder. She was filming from the start. I was in tears. I stood there, frozen.
Then an unprecedented thing happened. From the enormous depths of the convention hall echoed an ominous Morgan Freemanish kind of voice that unfroze time and sent its wheels to turn again.

Announcer (V.O.)

“From the department of management major in arts- Von Karlo Billostas Dela Cruz.”

Insert: Famous Graduation March Music by Edgar Elgar

Pomp and Circumstance

A presenter was standing with a diploma and a hand extended ready to congratulate. A slow clap ensued. One by one, people stood up and gave me a standing ovation. I felt like dancing in JUBILEE! But now that my parents are no longer to be found, I’ll probably be having lunch alone at JOLLIBEE! I gave the audience a perfunctory nod and stood there for another thirty seconds just looking at the crowd, teary-eyed and as if wanting to say:

“Thank you!
I know.
I’m a jerk!
You’re all I have.
Who wants to have lunch with me at Jollibee?”

Even at stage ten alzheimers, one of the only few things from my life that I’d probably remember in bursts of camera flashes are images of myself, seated, inside a bus, diploma in hand, sadly looking out into the streets, tears rolling down my cheeks, on my way home…by myself. When I got off the bus, I did what only seemed natural for me to do…I smoked.

Thirty years from now, the same thing could happen all over again while waiting for organ donation:
“Sorry sir, you were supposed to be the next recipient but while you were out smoking, you missed out on 2 sets of perfectly healthy lungs and a free liver.”
And I’ll be like- “It’s okay. Been there. Done that.”

So you see, cigarettes and I, we have an undeniable affinity.  It has stood by me through good and bad times. It even molded me into the kind of person I am today and that’s no less than saying great if I can be annoyingly modest. Hence, I have decided not to quit this year. I’ve tried doing that for years and it just doesn’t work. Maybe a good strategy for me is to continue smoking and hope that Reverse Psychology is an exact science.

Or I should probably just man up and straight up quit…you know, cold chicken! (Note: Turkey, not so popular here in the Philippines.)

Okay, so that’s my little shocking secret. I. Am. A. Addicted. Smoker. It’s not something that I’m proud of but it’s a current reality that I have to face and battle every day. Do I have plans to quit? Yes, of course. I’m still hoping that one day I’ll stop smoking. You know what? Make it two days or even a week..tops.

Oh, I have another shocking thing to tell you. Are you still seated? Brace yourself. Ready? Here goes.

I drank too much yesterday.