MRT

Eleven possible reasons why passengers crowd at MRT train doors

1. They are or former security guards, fast-food crew, bell-hops, or valets assigned to guard or offer a greeting at an entrance. Maybe they are also afraid the door would get lost and they could be blamed. So they're really making sure the door won't get lost or stolen. Really.

2. They believe there's a prize for the best door guard or the first to step inside or outside the train door. The latter also belongs to the group of people who dashes toward the turnstile and be the first to slide in the magnetic card. Surprised at not getting a prize or being the first to do so, they will muster the same optimism for the next train ride.

3. They are claustrophobic and, hence, needs to be near a door opening and closing at regular intervals.

4. They either crave human touch or the press of flesh.

5. They have an urge to be first. In this case, first inside and first outside. Since there are stations where doors open on either side, this urge propels these persons to squeeze toward the left or right side of the train. They may also belong to the group in number 2.

6. They have a fascination for doors that open and shut automatically.

7. They either have an urge to be pushed or to push people, regardless of age or gender.

8. They are either pickpockets eyeing a quick exit or undercover agents wanting to nab pickpockets red-handed.

9.  They are either wary or lonely that they need to see the faces of people waiting for a ride. They either want to see a familiar face to warm their hearts or craft a good alibi. This group includes passengers wanting to make those still stuck behind the yellow platform line feel they're such losers. 

10. They're concerned with the train capacity as well as the comfort of fellow passengers so they block entry of more passengers, especially at the Cubao station between 7:30-9:30 a.m.

11. The train’s really a sardine can being passed off as a vehicle.

Free Lunch

MANILA-To eat or not to eat; that is the question some Filipino business reporters ask at every press event.

It’s a question requiring them to decide now, not later; on their own, sans guidance from editors and at the pain of peer pressure.

The time to weigh decisions is a luxury most reporters can’t afford. They must decide fast and, a few times, on an empty stomach.

The ethical dilemma for some is whether the story got from a luncheon press briefing would appear influenced by or favoring the host. Some grapple with this dilemma as uniformed waiters walk around and offer delectable hors d'oeuvres on fine porcelain.

The pressure makes some journalists less envious of reporters at a dinner hosted for President Gloria Arroyo in New York months ago.

For reporters used to wining and dining with the haut monde to churn out pulp fiction from the Malacañan newsmill, the most difficult decision would be which dessert to take.

Others stuck at weighing first the ethical implications risk becoming the epitomy of a “starving journalist”: scooped-out from the hard information and the soft vanila ice cream.

It is tough covering people whose tab for a lunch in a fancy hotel is three times a business reporter’s daily wage.

It’s difficult, too, especially if the source relaxes at the dinner table, where the parting of bread becomes figurative and, sometimes, literal.

Reporters don’t want to offend those trying to feed them good food and sumptuous story angle. So they try to indulge the host with conversation, praise the chef with kudos, and please the editor with a story.

Some hosts, on the other hand, rub reporters' noses on the fact they're picking the tab.

One time at the Mandarin Hotel, a software company executive said journalists enjoy the job because they get the perks of free lunch.

To debunk this view, some reporters nibble on candy or only drink water or coffee at an event, especially if coverages are tightly scheduled in-between.

Some eat breakfast before or lunch after a mid-day press briefing. Not a few bite on sandwiches while typing the story.

Some give up on having two meals a day and cram everything at dinner.

Newspapers in the US have specific rules on hosted dinner and/or engaging a source on a meal he or she insists on paying for, according to www.justicejournalism.org. A few media agencies listed there advises reporters to avoid or even reject outright any invitation for lunch or dinner as it can cast doubts on the objectivity of a story.

But these rules strongly hint that the reporter is back-stopped by his or her news organization.

It may take a while before business reporters in the Philippines attains such savory position.

In the meantime, journalists have to rely on their wits to ensure a grumbling stomach never force them to swallow their integrity.

TV

MARTIAL Law sucks.

It sucked 37 years ago because it pulled the plug on television, making me miss episodes of The Electric Company and Marlo and the Magic Movie Machine. It made me miss Ernie's snicker, Spidey, and L. Dullo.

And this is why Martial Law is also something to be afraid of. Imagine Sesame Street or -horror of all horrors!- Spongebob Squarepants getting yanked out of the boob tube.

I remember feeling spiteful when I opened our RCA TV set one fine day and I got what Michael Keaton mistook for a medium to communicate with the dead.

While young that time, I recall seeing only a white blur instead of a masked Mighty Mightor brandishing his triangular club.

Missing out on those cartoon series may have sparked the rebellious spirit in me because I felt depraved.

Getting depraved is how a cigarette factory worker may feel after going cold turkey. Getting depraved is how a kid may feel if an adult stops giving him the lollipop the child didn't ask to receive everyday in the first place.

But then-President Ferdinand Marcos and his cronies tried to explain why they did what they did, saying they turned the whole country into a military zone because they commies are coming.

What they didn't think of was that children of middle class families would see them as the bullies, not some Che Guevarra-looking guys hiding in the boondocks.

The Marcos government may have failed to see this because it banned the airing of Voltes V.

As Anime News Network writes: "During its initial run in the late 1970s, Voltes V -along with other Super Robot titles- was banned by then-president Ferdinand Marcos, supposedly because the station airing it was beating two government-run stations in the ratings game."

Interestingly, the website (http://www.animenewsnetwork.com) followed a view that Marcos banned the Voltes V cartoon TV series because its storyline "involving an aristocratic empire and its oppressed masses reflected his dictatorship in the country."

Rubbish. That time, I just wanted to know the alphabet from Ernie and the "ch" sound from the Cosby twins. I remember getting motivated to stay at home rather than being forced by a curfew not taken seriously by kids playing hide and seek when the moon was full.

Recently, a Cabinet official drummed up again the possibility of declaring Martial Law, adding it's nothing to fear.

Either the offiial thinks he's being taken seriously by fellow-military men or he's confident the fear would push people to continue wallowing in the illusion offered by television.

Would children feel depraved if military rulers yank out TV shows that may teach them how to think for themselves?

Nah, I don't think so. There's a lot of sources of information these days and there are a few good TV programs to censor anyway.

What would be interesting is when a Martial Law regime pull the plug on game shows with young girls gyrating in baby clothes.

Won't Martial Law suck for the military rulers if that happened.

[Photo by Ani Laya M. Estopace, 5]