Checkpoint

My stomach churned the fifth time. And I felt something burn as it came up my throat. I haven't felt this way in a long time, not since 2021. I didn't think what would follow was going to be pleasant. 

It's probably heartburn again. And the stomach acid isn't going to let me have a great day until I force it down with some Peprazom and Gaviscon.

And it sucks right now to be stuck in a long line of vehicles. I don't even have the chance or choice to turn around. And even if I tried, I would probably get arrested, or worse.

So I bit my lip, let go, and grabbed my water jug. I grasped the cool plastic body and raised the narrow mouth to my lips, gently gulping down the water I had put in it. When I was finished, I put the cap on after I looked for it on the dashboard. Then I put it back in the cup holder and placed my head against the window. 

I felt my own skull throb. Painfully. 

It was a mistake to have drank so much the previous night. And I hope that I don't have to deal with any more trouble. 

Not since I've already gone through the trouble of the plague years. And what a way to go, I suppose. Hopefully, I'll be fine. And I hope my girlfriend too will be.

I convinced her to stay. It wasn't safe to drive at night. And it wasn't just because she was drunk. 

There were checkpoints everywhere, and I didn't trust the police to treat her well. Not after the failed coup and the loads of questionable things they've done up to that point. With their reputation stained forever by the drug war and the lockdown, I was pretty sure that I couldn't just let her go without me. It just didn't sit well with me.

I felt my stomach churn again. I gritted my teeth and told myself to endure it. This isn't the first time you dealt with this kind of thing, Ryan. Keep it together. You can get the medicine after you make it past this checkpoint.

Maybe I should listen to the radio. I'll probably at least get some new information. If there's some good music, that would be great too. So I fiddled with the knob until I got to a good station. Bombo Radio was always a good one, and the time was just right. It was 8 AM. It was time for the news. 

I sat back and closed my eyes, listening to the voice of the speaker pierce through the annoying sound effects. At least the guy didn't sound like a chipmunk. That was always annoying. And right now, I think it was great to have some good news over the waves. 

The cases were dropping rapidly. The new government finally cut through the mud and got our countrymen some good vaccines. While, yes, the previous one had some, they weren't exactly that great. And there were too little doses, too little to do anything to protect the rest of our countrymen. That had caused so much pain for the previous administration, and such news added to the discontent of my countrymen. 

While we still had problems cutting ties with the Chinese, it was certain now that such ties would be cut due to their attempted invasion of Taiwan. On the other hand, I heard that we were finally strengthening our ties with our neighbors, especially as we were now aiming to help the people over in Myanmar. The coup had failed, despite the fears of many, and it was a relief to see the return of democracy to that country. They deserved that after so long.

But even as the plague years faded from the world's immediate memory, the speaker didn't fail to remind me that I had to keep my mask around and to keep on observing the usual safety protocols. No need for face shields. And the guy on the radio laughed about that until he moved on, talking about something going on over there in Eastern Europe. Something about the war in Ukraine starting all over again. I had to shut the radio up. It wasn't that I didn't care about it. It was just tiring to hear about. I've dealt with too much already.

And even as a new president took over, now our 3rd female president, I still can't shake the odd feelings I had toward police officers. Even when they were no longer wearing fatigues, I just couldn't feel better about them. The way they stood around at the checkpoints, peering at the drivers and their passengers from under the tarpaulin tents, it made me freeze at times.

They still seemed so unworthy of trust. 

And rightly so, after they tried to pull a fast one on the government. Fortunately, the army wasn't having any of it and protected our freedoms, arresting the ringleaders and preventing them from harming our president. And when the people came out to protest against what the police had done, I couldn't help but feel that this was like the very struggle our parents became a part of, a peaceful one that saw a dictator and his wife and family fly away to Hawaii.

It made me wonder how my relatives were doing over there. I also had buddies in California, with a handful living deeper in the heart of the United States. The news wasn't so good. The economy wasn't improving so much, but at least things seemed to have cooled down there. It really ate at me to worry so much for their safety. 

And it tested my faith in humanity whenever I had to listen to them speak so fearfully with me over the phone, whenever I had to look at their faces. They were not always so clear, but I could somehow feel that the stress of discrimination was upon their foreheads and their eyes. 

It seemed like they wanted to go home, but how could they? Travel restrictions were, unfortunately, still in place. And no matter what I did, it was just so hard to get an affordable ticket for more than one person. 

At least my love got lucky. 

She had moved out the first chance she got. I thought she would stay with her family, that she would have stuck to the advice her parents gave. But the ceaseless arguing they did every night changed her mind. 

Not that I hold it against her. I thought she deserved better, to at least be with me. While I did dislike that she came so suddenly that night, scaring the living crap out of me when I woke up to ceaseless knocking on my front door. But I was glad to have discarded my annoyance for joy. 

We spoke a lot that night, and I treated her to some snacks. I asked her if she had any classes, but she shook her head and explained to me that she was done with all of them. And she assured me, despite the odd flow in her words, that she could go to school in person next week. 

So, at her invitation, which was often more like an act of seduction than it was something I could turn down, I celebrated with her. 

Then again, I still shouldn't have drunk so much. And my stomach churned again. 

The burning sensation was no longer climbing up my throat, but it was getting worse. 

I bit my lip and tightened my fists around the wheel. I watched the car in front of me move forward. I followed. But all the progress we made was measured in mere centimeters. Such was traffic here in the city. At least I was finally making it home from the province. I would make it before the curfew.

And I was about to reach for my mask on the passenger seat when the car behind me honked twice. I grunted and made my way forward when I saw emptiness before me. The police officers at the checkpoint, in their blue tops and khaki pants, were looking at me. I rolled down my window and stopped between the tents. 

A young-looking officer with a clean-shaven face got to my window. I panicked, freezing again. I hadn't put my mask on. I was about to go and look for it on the other seat when I saw nothing there. I turned to explain myself but the young man just laughed, shook his head, and said: "Okay ra, Sir. It's okay. I'm just looking for your license and registration. May I see yours, please?"

I hoped I wasn't looking too rough. I nodded quietly and gave the officer my papers. He smiled back at me and stepped back to look at them under the light of one of the tents. I looked around, spotting another officer walking around my car with a vehicle inspection mirror. Another one tapped at the trunk. I unlocked it and they lifted it up, looking around. Satisfied, he closed it and gave me a thumbs up. The one inspecting the underside of my car also gave a thumbs up and mumbled something in Cebuano. And then the young officer came back to the window and handed back my papers. 

"Here you go, Sir. Are you all right? You seem nervous." He looked me over and put a hand on the roof. I had no weapons in my car and I did my best not to have anything nasty inside either. I wanted to simply say no and go my way, but I seemed to have told him what was wrong. And the young man just smiled and said, "Ah, no worries there. Naa koy gamot. I have some medicine, but it's only a stick of Gaviscon. Ok ra ka ana? You okay with that?"

I nodded my head.

And the officer gave me his stick of Gaviscon, just after he fished it out of his chest pocket. Then he told me, "At least you have some water with you. No worries, Sir. You're not the only one who's vaccinated." And then he showed me his wrist. He had the bracelet on to show that he was all good. 

"Huy, it's time to let the guy go, Danilo." An older officer was waving at him from the other tent. And a few other officers were chuckling around. 

Danilo nodded at them and then said to me, "All right, you're clear to go, Sir. Have a safe trip. Don't worry about the curfew; it's just been lifted."

I nodded my thanks and went my way. Just as I was leaving the checkpoint, I caught a glimpse of fabric on the dashboard and I reached out to grab it. 

It was my mask, buried under a small pile of documents and pictures. 

At that, I couldn't help but click my tongue at myself. I shook my head and parked at the shoulder. I took the Gaviscon with some water and let the soothing liquid flow down my throat. I would let it do its thing against the acid while I drove. And when I finally left the shoulder, I felt a smile crawling up the corners of my mouth, pleased by the kindness of Danilo.

At least that was one good change to have after the pandemic.