Out of my life (Part 1)
I finally finished the last driving lecture of my driving course this afternoon at A-1 Marcos Highway. Now with that out of the way...
It wasn't much fun. The mind-numbing instructor had the stamina to lecture for 4 HOURS STRAIGHT with no breaks whatsoever. That left me bored to death and shivering in my seat. And to think I was the only one giving sensible answers to his questions. That's how utterly bored my other classmates were, who were all older than me. I was the youngest, BTW.
I didn't have any paper or pen on my person, which left me with no tools for doodling, and crazed out of my wits. The instructor kept on flashing various morbid hit-and-run videos (he was trying to emphasize road safety, what else). By the 5th video I had managed to keep myself from covering my eyes with the A-1 brochure and just sat there practically desensitized to the flying bodies and car bumpers on the television screen.
"Always learn to yield," the enlightened driving instructor added, although I wasn't sure if he was still referring to overtaking and intersections or to life and relationships as well. Sigh.
At around 5 p.m. the secretariat entered the room with what looked like two orders of large french fries from McDonald's Marcos Highway, which simply increased my restlessness as the irresistible whiff of potatoes filled the room. I was going insane.
Finally the damned lecture ended. I grabbed my booklet at the registrar's desk and headed off to McDonald's next door to stuff my face with a Double Cheeseburger meal, upsized. It was dusk, and a cold air had mixed with the omnipresent smog of Marcos Highway.
(To be continued)
It wasn't much fun. The mind-numbing instructor had the stamina to lecture for 4 HOURS STRAIGHT with no breaks whatsoever. That left me bored to death and shivering in my seat. And to think I was the only one giving sensible answers to his questions. That's how utterly bored my other classmates were, who were all older than me. I was the youngest, BTW.
I didn't have any paper or pen on my person, which left me with no tools for doodling, and crazed out of my wits. The instructor kept on flashing various morbid hit-and-run videos (he was trying to emphasize road safety, what else). By the 5th video I had managed to keep myself from covering my eyes with the A-1 brochure and just sat there practically desensitized to the flying bodies and car bumpers on the television screen.
"Always learn to yield," the enlightened driving instructor added, although I wasn't sure if he was still referring to overtaking and intersections or to life and relationships as well. Sigh.
At around 5 p.m. the secretariat entered the room with what looked like two orders of large french fries from McDonald's Marcos Highway, which simply increased my restlessness as the irresistible whiff of potatoes filled the room. I was going insane.
Finally the damned lecture ended. I grabbed my booklet at the registrar's desk and headed off to McDonald's next door to stuff my face with a Double Cheeseburger meal, upsized. It was dusk, and a cold air had mixed with the omnipresent smog of Marcos Highway.
(To be continued)