It’s three days before Christmas.
In the rush of holiday travel, I’m eternally grateful I’m flying Philippine Airlines — a direct flight out of one of the better terminals at NAIA, which is all I ask for, given that my entire family flew out a week prior. Having lugged my bags from home that morning, I leave the office early in the afternoon. When I tell my Uber driver to take me to the airport, he says I’m the third person he’ll be driving there today, and asks me where I’m headed.
“Davao,” I say, and leave it at that.
I don’t add the part about the old, ugly airport and the alleged hipons because it might depress him.
“Ah, durian!” He chuckles. Continue reading