The Most Unique Kind of B.O. [and other things that went (horribly) wrong during my trip to Legaspi]

DAY 1

In keeping with the tradition of Filipino time. Our flight to Legaspi was delayed for two hours. Many thanks to the newly opened NAIA Terminal 3 and the ever-efficient personnel who work there. Apparently, according to the pilot, the delay was due to the congestion in that aesthetically-wonderful, but poorly-performing airport. A lot of flights were delayed that morning, and since the airport (or its personnel) are still not used to handling such kind of traffic, the delay rolled to the rest of the afternoon: classic ripple effect.

Welcome to Legaspi. When we got there, we went around a bit to see which hotel we could stay at. We were not looking, mind you, for accommodations close to spectacular, because my companions and I were simply the type who just needs a bed to sleep on, just a clean one, though. We found ourselves at the reception of what its management had decided to call it The Sampaguita Ho[spi]tel, insertion supplied; pun intended. The five of us were really a bit lost on what kind of room to get to fit us all in so, like any other curious customer would, we asked the receptionist. Oh, wait, the receptionists. Plural, friends, plural, as there were at least three girls at the counter. But three heads will not always be better than one. As it turned out, the grandiose Sampaguita Ho[spi]tel had unknowingly employed the three stupidest and worst receptionists in the whole of Bicol Region. It's not as if our questions were derived from some MENSA questionnaire: Pwede ba ang mag-add ng extra bed sa isang standard room? Magkano ang extra bed? Meron pa bang family room? They gave us no answers. Only the stupid look on their faces—the kind you would want badly to slap back and forth. Yeah, they were hellish, but hey, the five of us were not about to wander around homeless for the next two days. We checked in anyway.

Pictures courtesy of virtualtourist.com (Above) The facade of hotel Sampaguita, reminiscent of Medical Center Paranaque (Left) The room rates the receptionists were not able to explain to us...

receptionist: Ma'am bawal po ang extra bed...

xtin: eh bakit kayo may rates for extra beds? ABER???

DAY 2
Being in Legaspi and not seeing Mayon. I was looking forward to seeing the world-famous "perfect cone" volcano. The one that I often saw just in my HEKASI books. Alas, the skies were not about to pave its way to satisfy my whim. It was cloudy and raining hard, even, so the most that we saw of Mayon Volcano was its base. The rest of the view was gray and gloomy.

Collar-ups in Sampaguita Hotel. Nothing to say here. A picture's worth a thousand words.

DAY 3

Going back home and still keeping with the tradition of Filipino Time. Our flight back was delayed as well. For 3 whole hours, this time. The thing still to blame was the newly opened terminal 3 and the congestions. Same old, same old. The passengers were agitated. And so were we…

The most unique kind of B.O. As if the delay was not enough, we still had to be intoxicated with some foreign smell (foreign being the operative word, as you may later find out why). SHET. ANG BAHO. SERIOUSLY. The only way to describe the foul smell is with this…have you ever had that drawer in your fridge where your mom puts all the vegetables in…the CRISPER? When you open the CRISPER, it's a mix of smells…of all the vegetables, both fresh and rotting…of bell pepper, lettuce, onion, carrots…are you getting the idea? Basta…that was the type of smell we had to contend with. It was B.O. obviously and all we had to do was to find out who was stinking the whole terminal up. And not too long after…we did find the culprit… (see guy standing up, in black shirt)

We're not even sure if it was just this guy or the rest of his group.

One thing's for sure, if it was not ALL of them, it was indeed ONE of them. Based on observation, these people came all the way from CWC and apparently, since they had to catch their flight, they did not have time to take a bath. They went straight from wakeboarding to boarding the damn plane. ANG BAHO PROMISE. Actually, we were originally seated in the third row, but since we could not stand the smell of the group behind us, we had to transfer to the first row. It was not just us. The smell was not a figment of our imagination. One other group who was staying at the last row, behind the MABAHO group, also transferred to the row behind us, just so they could breathe some fresh, uncontaminated air. It was THAT bad. SERIOUSLY.

Gigster caps, Koreans, and other Douchebags in Terminal 3. I don't think I would have to describe in detail these half-wits. Just look at the pictures.

Tama ba namang kasing mag-boxers sa airport eh, noh???

Quintessential Pinoy Douche: Total HipHop Getup

Sando. Zebra prints. Korean. Nice.

Gigster cap. So anong tinatawa-tawa mo diyan???

Ahhh…so many things went wrong those three days. The only good thing that came out of that streak of horrible occurences is this blog entry. This is pretty much it. All I could wish for now is for none of you to smell the CRISPER ever again.