If you don’t believe in glass ceilings, you must believe in handrails blocking a perfectly good pedestrian lane.
It’s not that life’s in Ortigas Center, but life’s like Ortigas Center. I don’t have to get it. Somewhere in the grand scheme of urban planning, it makes perfect sense to paint fresh lines for a pedestrian lane just across Holiday Inn, while blocking it with this handrail project that has been going on for months now. It’s the way things are.
Methinks that as you grow older, you develop an immunity – even an appreciation – for the way things are. You start to turn a blind eye and a deaf ear to the errors and mistakes of the world, and the guilt-trips don’t happen at all. If they do, the instances are just temporary and fleeting.
Oh sure, the way things should be is grand. You hit a certain age, and then you start to develop theories and ideals about how the world should work. That air of jadedness is shattered, and for the next few weeks or months or even years, you draw upon your life’s experience to point out what’s incorrect, what should be done…
And then you realize that you’re only doing this to compensate for your own past.
After passing by this strange pedestrian lane for the nth time, I realized I’ve had enough. I’ve had enough of the way things are, the way things are supposed to be, and I’ll be damned if I’ll wait for years to write an apologia for a pedestrian lane, much less the rest of my life.
I could have done what everyone else was doing. I could have walked to the proper pedestrian lane along Robinson’s Galleria, but I didn’t. I made a run for it, vaulted over the handrail, and ran along the blocked pedestrian lane to the surprised looks of onlookers. No police officers, no security guards. It wasn’t Parkour, but it wasn’t everyone else’s pedestrian lane, either.
Just me, a blocked pedestrian lane, a handrail, and the way things are. When confronted with those things – or just the way things are – you just do things your way.