Arrivals

Daphne hated airports.

It wasn’t that Daphne hated flying; being a senior HR officer in one of the successful call centers in Makati, Daphne often had the chance to travel, both for meetings with counterparts around the world as well as for company-sponsored vacations in Europe, the US, Japan, Southeast Asia, and around the country. She loved to play tourist, taking in the sights, shopping for trinkets and knickknacks, exploring new destinations, her adventures all related with enthusiasm to her friends in entertaining tales (she often joked) in lieu of pasalubong.

It wasn’t that she hated security procedures; after all, Daphne’s sweet disposition charmed airport personnel of all kinds and in all the countries she visited. Not a few brusque Homeland Security-types had their dourness cheered up by her friendly manner and charming smile, and the fact that she went through the gates with no complaints and no reasons to be held up and searched – she always stashed her keys and jewelry in her purse prior to entry – always ensured that she had no cause for irritation… not that she was the irritable sort in the first place.

It wasn’t that she hated crowds; Daphne was an inveterate people-watcher, and her active imagination saw stories in airport scenes. Whether she was in Dulles International (where an old couple welcomed their Marine son just arrived from Iraq), or in De Gaulle International (where a couple of teenagers back from holiday exchanged fervent promises to write, be loyal, and love each other forever; she knew that it was unlikely but often hoped for the best), or in Mactan Domestic (where a young man soon to serve his seaman’s contract bade good-bye to his fiancée), or in NAIA (where an OFW fought back his tears as he hugged his wife and the three-year-old daughter whose birth he missed while he was in Dubai), Daphne found herself smiling at what she saw.

It was the sighing after the smiling that Daphne hated about airports.

That was it in a nutshell – after being touched by airport scenes, she always found herself letting go of a wistful sigh. She hated being alone in airports, hated the fact that nobody came to meet her or see her off in the way she wished someone – whoever it was – did. Daphne disliked the fact that she often asked silently, “Lord, sige na, what about me?”

Not that there wasn’t anyone to meet her if she wanted anyone to; her sister and brother-in-law both worked in Las Piñas, and would cheerfully drop everything and pick her up at NAIA if she asked. Her father, mother, and younger brother would do so likewise to meet her, haul box and tote bale, and drive Daphne to the modest apartment she kept for herself in Mandaluyong (she had opted to move out from the family home in Cainta to be closer to work). Dozens of girl and guy friends likewise wouldn’t say no if she asked to be accompanied to the airport; in fact, her best friend Claire, who lived on the next block from her apartment, always found time to see her off and welcome her home, often even if Daphne didn’t ask.

Why Daphne hated airports was something only Claire and precious few others knew, as Daphne always felt that it was not in keeping with being confident and independent, the epitome of the modern Filipina career woman. With the confidence (and the power suits) Daphne had, she could hold her own with corporate big shots, New York taxi drivers, and Quiapo jeepney drivers, but she would never be comfortable being alone in an airport. Those who knew why sympathized, though at times found amusement, with Daphne’s little quirk. They understood; some of them could even relate.

It was Daphne herself who had told Claire; she hated airports only because she had never known what it was like to have someone special sit by her in one, see her off, or welcome her home.

Like right now, in Chep Law Kok International, she thought. Two rows behind her, a young woman was being teased by her friends to pretty herself up; she was expecting her boyfriend to meet her in NAIA, and Daphne overheard the young woman’s friends saying that it was likely that he had found someone else in the two years that she had been working in Hong Kong – their advice was that she had to look as beautiful as she could manage so that she could steal him back. The young woman retorted, “Aba, mag-ingat siya kung naghanap siya ng iba… ‘di naman siya gan’un… ‘wag naman sana…”

“Uyy, nagdududa na nga, o!” Raucous giggling. Daphne smiled to herself, but then her smile faded slowly, ending in a quiet sigh. She absently smoothed a wrinkle on her stylish pantsuit, and after a moment, smiled again. Daphne then heard an amused grunt, and she turned to look.

To her left was a young man about her age, dressed in a batik shirt and faded jeans. His long hair was tied neatly in a ponytail by the same kind of beads that encircled his large wrists and hung from the laces of his scuffed hiking boots. He was doing the New York Times crosswords, using his laptop carrier as a lap table, now and then pausing to check a clue, biting the end of his pen as he did so. He looked vaguely familiar. The young man looked up and caught her staring; Daphne quickly looked away. He ventured a question. “Pinay?”

Daphne looked up and nodded, a sheepish smile on her face. He didn’t seem to mind; he smiled and said, “Kabayan. Ingat pag-uwi,” then turned back to his crosswords. Daphne turned away, wondering why he looked familiar. The young man’s clothes, she mused, were like those worn by the hardcore mountaineers her section met on their teambuilding exercise climbing Mount Makulot, or like those favored by the avant-garde artists and writers she had seen sometimes in Malate or Rockwell. He’s doing the crosswords, Daphne thought, maybe he’s a writer, not a mountaineer.

She watched furtively as he placed his pen behind his ear and fish out a pair of granola bars from his shirt pocket. She was startled when he offered her one with a shy little grin, and she shook her head. He nodded, and just as he turned to continue his crosswords, it seemed to Daphne that they both noticed at the same time the seven-year-old girl who had been looking curiously at him. He chuckled. “Would you like to have this one, little girl?”

The child looked up at her mother, who smiled back encouragingly. “Oy, Erica, da boy es askeng yu a question. Da kindi, yu like?”

Erica nodded, and she received the granola bar shyly. Seeing that the child had trouble opening the wrap, the young man said, “Here, Erica, let me,” and tore the foil wrap easily and handed it to her. The child smiled.

“Oy, Erica, don’t porgit to see tank yu,” the girl’s mother chided. Erica answered, “Thank you,” and the young man grinned. “You’re welcome, Erica.” In moments, the child’s mother and the young man were engaged in animated conversation; Daphne found herself eavesdropping, and although she thought herself impolite, she wouldn’t – couldn’t! – stop herself. The young man’s name was Ramil, the child’s mother’s was Flor; Aling Flor decided to go back to the Philippines after her husband died, bringing their only child home with her. She hoped that it wasn’t going to be difficult for Erica to adjust; Ramil replied that children were very adaptable, that it wouldn’t matter how different Mandaue City was from Chicago.

The PA system announced a flight; Ramil helped Aling Flor gather up all their baggage. As he gently strapped on Erica’s tiny knapsack, the little girl said in a small, hopeful voice, “Can you be my boyfriend?” Daphne smiled, Aling Flor giggled, “Ay, Erica!” and Ramil grinned. He knelt before the little girl. “We’ll talk about it in a few years, okay? Now, be a good girl in Mandaue. Come on, your mom’s waiting.”

“Salamat, Ramil, ha?” Aling Flor said, as Erica took her hand. Ramil stood up. “No problem, Ate Flor. Ingat po pag-uwi.”

“Anong uras ba ‘yong playt mu?” Aling Flor continued, as Ramil handed over the last of their carry-ons. Ramil replied, “Nine-thirty po, Cathay Pacific.”

Coincidence again? Daphne thought, barely hearing Aling Flor say, “Ay, sayang, sana ‘yon na lang ang kenoha namin. Sige, Ramil, ingat ka ha? Oy, Erica, see bye-bye na to Kuya Ramil. We are going to da erplayn na.”

“ ‘Bye, Kuya Ramil,” Erica said. Ramil smiled back. “ ‘Bye, Erica.” He watched the mother and daughter walk down to the jetway, assisted by a solicitous flight attendant, waved once, then he resumed his seat. Daphne watched the whole airport scene, smiled, and then tried to suppress the sigh that was coming out. She failed, and to her it seemed unusually loud. She saw Ramil look curiously at her before resuming his scribbling. Daphne looked away, embarrassed, but then she figured, so he saw, so what?

“That was a very sweet thing you did, Ramil.” After she heard herself say it, Daphne instantly regretted speaking. It was almost tradition for Filipino expatriates to indulge in their own language whenever they met wherever around the world – something to remind them of home, but Ramil didn’t seem to mind.

“Makes me wish I was in kindergarten again,” Ramil laughed. “Nobody’s come up to me and asked to be my girlfriend before.”

Daphne chuckled. “I’m Daphne,” she said, and offered her hand. Ramil took it.

“A pleasure,” he replied, his clipped, precise English a foil to Daphne’s Makati-yuppie accent. He folded his paper now that he was done with the crosswords; Daphne took the opportunity to point at its banner. “Artist fresh from a show in New York?”

“Me? Oh no. Engineer back from an environmental conference.”

“Engineer?” Daphne was surprised. Not one engineer she knew dressed the way Ramil did; Ramil chuckled, understanding her confusion. He liked surprising people this way. “It’s just that the NGO I work for doesn’t have much of a dress code.”

“You work for an NGO?”

Ramil nodded, mentioning the environmental group whose offices were two floors below Daphne’s company. Small world, Daphne thought. She asked, “So you work in Makati?”

“Not if I can help it. I’d rather be in the field. In fact, in three weeks, I’ll be with a survey team in Samar, trying to find out how bad deforestation is there. We’ll probably look like monsters from a mudbank when we get back, not something acceptable to the Makati corporate crowd,” Ramil replied. Daphne realized that this was an implicit challenge. The pretty executive in a power suit is afraid of getting dirt on her clothes, is it? Not this one! She smiled.

“I’ve met a few mountaineers; about three months ago, when my section climbed Mount Makulot in Batangas, a group helped us get down after one of my staff had a sprain and my manager – it was her idea for us to go climbing – suffered some heatstroke. They wore beads, just like you do; is that a common thing among you guys?”

Ramil did a double take. “About three months ago? The call center group?”

“Yes! Were you there?” Daphne asked. Really small world!

She got a shrug in reply. “Maybe it was my team. We were up for an exercise hike.”

Realization hit Daphne. “I remember you now; you told your group to build a stretcher with their frame backpacks while you went ahead to get a jeepney. The jeepney was there when we got down finally, then…” Daphne blushed, embarrassed by the memory, “… then I tried to pay you.” Ramil smiled wryly. “You weren’t very happy about it,” Daphne continued, “I think you and your friends were offended by what I did.”

“I guess we were. We hikers have a saying, ‘no strangers on a trail’. We helped out because we were needed, not because we wanted something in return. Anyway, at least everything worked out fine. How are they?”

Daphne relaxed at Ramil’s concern. “After recovering from her sprain, Ellie swore she’d never go up another mountain again. Maricar, on the other hand, is looking forward to another hike.” She smiled engagingly. “Maybe your group can help us out?”

Ramil smiled back. “Why not? Too bad about Ellie, though; Erwin, one of the boys, wanted to her cellphone number, ask her to join another climb, maybe. He’s always thought of himself as a white knight saving some damsel in distress.”

He heard her laugh. Daphne is pretty, isn’t she? a voice in Ramil’s head teased. “Why didn’t he ask her for it?”

“Well, no offense meant, but we didn’t like the way we were being thanked, remember?” Daphne looked down at her shoes. “But if he was asked to go barhopping, I’m sure Erwin will get over it.”

She looked up to see Ramil grinning. “We’re not such bad guys, Daphne.”

“Does that include you?” Daphne joked tentatively. Ramil laughed.

“I’m not sure.”

“Well, I’m sure the girls will want to thank you guys properly, but we only go out with nice guys.” And you seem nicer than you’re willing to admit – are you going to ask me? Daphne found herself thinking. Ramil grinned.

“Drat. Just my luck. I’ll be all alone in my apartment in Mandaluyong, watching the Discovery Channel, while you’re all having a blast at Dish or something,” Ramil laughed again. Works in Makati, lives in Mandaluyong? How many more coincidences will there be? Daphne thought. This is pretty weird. She replied, “So play nice, and we might ask you to join us.”

Ramil smiled. I just might. “Deal.”


They heard the PA system announce their flight midway through their animated conversation. About to say good-bye, Ramil turned to Daphne, only to see her pick up her things. He made no comment as they joined the queue, and he let her precede him. He smiled at her briefly as he turned to Economy class, leaving her to make her way to Business Class. Both did not know that a flight attendant who had watched closely the scene between them was now conferring with her colleagues, who were stifling their giggles.

Daphne was just settling in when she saw the flight attendant usher Ramil to the empty seat beside her. Ramil seemed embarrassed. Somehow she found it strangely endearing.

“Um, the lady said that I had to be bumped up to Business Class. I don’t know why, Economy isn’t full,” he stuttered. Daphne smiled.

“You don’t mind, though, do you?” she replied, scooting over to the window seat. Ramil seemed relieved, and began to stow his gear in the overhead compartment. Daphne looked past him to see the flight attendant give her a sly wink, and she smiled back gratefully. I’m definitely flying Cathay Pacific again.

Ramil slowly took his chair. He was staring into space, Daphne noticed, and she nudged him gently. “Hey, relax, you’re not breaking any rules, you know. Remember, it was they who bumped you up.”

“Uh-huh.” Ramil took a deep breath, shrugged, then said, “So what were we talking about last?” Daphne just had to laugh.


This flight was much too fast, Daphne thought, as they made their way to Arrivals to the luggage carousel. Ramil spotted his large backpack and hefted it easily; upon seeing Daphne struggle a bit with her suitcases, he went over and helped. They went through Customs together, and once they were at the lobby Ramil turned and said, “Well, Daphne, it’s been great. See you around sometime.”

Daphne felt a twinge of disappointment. “Somebody meeting you?”

“Me? Oh no. I’m catching a cab. You? Of course someone is,” Ramil replied with a grin, because it’s hard to believe anyone wouldn’t come meet someone like you.

“I was going to take a taxi, too,” Daphne lied, changing her plan to call Claire. “You live in Mandaluyong, right?”

“Yes, but not in the hospital. Not that I’m not qualified for it, though.”

Daphne laughed at the reference to the mental institution. “I’m from Mandaluyong, too. Why don’t we just share a taxi?”

“You’re not staying at the hospital, are you?” Ramil teased. Am I lucky or what? “Sure, why not? Here, let me help you with that,” he said, taking her luggage cart. Daphne obliged, and took Ramil’s laptop case from his hand. Together they walked through the glass double doors, and anyone looking would have thought them a couple – a strange match, true, but a couple nonetheless, and from a long time since.


Later that afternoon, while she was accessing a new text message, Daphne heard Claire say hello on the other end of the landline. “Hi, Claire, it’s me, Daphne. I’m home!”

“Daphne, I expected your call years ago! Are you at the airport na?”

“No, I’m at home.”

“Who picked you up? Your brother?”

“No, I didn’t call Carlo. I rode a taxi,” Daphne answered cryptically, knowing that Claire’s curiosity would be piqued. Only half-listening to her friend’s probing questions, she read the text, tnx 4 a gr8 tym. c u around. mbe we can hav cofi sumtym? Ü Daphne smiled and texted back, id lyk dat. my trit dis tym n xchnge 4 d txi ryd, k? tnx din! c“, )

“Teka, teka, you’re not listening to me anymore. Wait there, I’ll be there in a few minutes, makiki-chika ako,” Claire said finally. Daphne laughed. “You know something? May itsi-chika nga ako sa ‘yo.”

“What! What?” Claire demanded, her curiosity now at its peak. Daphne giggled.

“I think I’m starting to like airports.”