Our house in Batangas is along the national highway. It can get really busy. When I’m home, I always have to close the windows tight so the noise could not distract me from doing my usual activities comprised mainly of watching TV and err… watching TV. Open the window a little bit and your viewing experience is ruined.
But the noise is not why I call this “The Road to Death.”
The noise is tolerable. It’s been there before us so we have no right to complain. What’s relatively new is the long island in the middle of the road. It was added to this wide street perhaps four years ago, making both of its sides narrower. What they failed to install in addition was a light post. You see, at night, this little road island is invisible. And because it is part of the national highway and may even be the only part of the highway in 5km radius with a concrete island or anything protruding from the ground, motorists are always caught off-guard. Ergo, ACCIDENTS.
As a matter of fact, every time I spend the weekend in our Batangas house (which is every month or so), I always witness road accidents in this area. The culprit — you bet it’s that damn island. Most of the time, motorcycle drivers fall victim. Sometimes, bigger vehicles. I have seen a truck carrying hundreds of chickens tumble over here. There was even an incident where a truck containing inflammable content having the same fate — my neighbors were all in panic.
Just last night, a motorcycle driver found his face erased when he hit the ground face first and then sliding, his face against the ground, meters from the point of impact. Just because he didn’t see the island. The exact same thing happened last month. The only difference was that this time I was holding a bottle of Mountain Dew. Last time it was Pepsi.
I used to be disgusted by blood and graphic display of it but when you see it regularly, you get desensitized by it. I could even have my dinner while watching the victim pick himself up and walk to the sidewalk with his face showing me the different kinds of bloody muscles that compose it. He could even die and I would continue munching on my lamb pie while calling for ambulance. That’s an exaggeration, of course. Okay, that’s an exaggeration.
But that’s not the point. The point is, we have to get rid of this thing!
I grew up in this place and I could not recall any major accident before this road island existed. Now, it’s a regular thing. It fuckin’ never fails. Every month, there’s always a big bang and everyone would rush outside to find an unlucky soul giving the ground a kiss.
We have talked to the authorities. In fact, we even mentioned it when we hosted lunch for them one time during the campaign period. Three months after the election, the freaking death trap is still there. And there’s still blood all over it. Fresh from last night’s events. Now, where’s my meat pie?