I GOT OFF a few meters from the Quezon Avenue-Roosevelt Street corner one Friday night and no sooner had I reached Matikas Entertainment Bar (formerly called Makisig; I thought I read the Tagalog word “Matigas”) than a police car, carrying two stocky individuals, pulled over to the side of Roosevelt. The bar was across the street from where they parked.
I am allergic to the inferior Filipino police servicemen and now I found myself standing just fifteen meters away from a police patrol car. I froze. Worry now overcame me that moment. Many things went through my mind. Would they arrest me and book me at the nearest police station? Would they divest me of my belongings? Were they part of the advanced party of a large team of cops scheduled to raid the establishment that night and were observing the area?
I regained my composure. What if I cancel this visit, anyway? I thought to myself. My instincts told me to forgo this Friday visit.
I stared at their direction. Then the one behind the wheel turned around to check some vehicles coming from behind them. He must have spotted me. I avoided his look. Was I getting paranoid now? Just then an MGE taxi appeared from the direction of Frisco area. I flagged it down as it neared the spot I was on. Once inside, I told the driver to speed towards Timog-Morato area.