During the Aquino administration, my passport to the Palace (specifically the Arlegui Guest House) was Kris Aquino. It was there where I had my first interview with her (for her 1987 Christmas special, Kris Kringle). And it was also there where I had to watch (during a private screening with President Corazon Aquino herself) some of the agonizing scenes in Pido Dida.
For her 18th birthday, Kris decided to do away with the usual 18 roses and 18 candles tradition. In lieu of a big birthday bash, she just hosted a simple, but sumptuous dinner for friends at the Guest House.
Before the guests were called in to the formal dining room, we were first served chips and nuts at the receiving area. I remember that I had one hand dipped into a bowl of potato chips when somebody signaled that President Aquino was already approaching me from behind. I actually wanted to wipe my greasy hand first with a cloth napkin before facing her, but it was too late. When I turned around, she was already there – extending her hand to me. So there I was, shaking the hand of the most powerful person in the land – grease, salt and all.
I also had the chance to see Mrs. Aquino many times outside of the Palace – usually at weddings since she was then (and probably up to now) a much sought-after ninang.
In contrast to Imelda Marcos who was tall, radiant and stunning, Corazon Aquino looked short, simple, but approachable. Even at the height of power, if you didn’t know she was the President, you could easily have mistaken her for one of the more solicitous mothers of the younger guests.
Kris – during her mother’s term – was still very much like a baby. Yes, she was bratty at times, but still very charming. And I have to admit that I’ve always had a soft spot in my heart for her.
One time, when she was still at the Ateneo, she came to my house to interview me for a term paper she was doing.
I didn’t know what to offer a President’s daughter so I served her chocolate ice cream – which she didn’t touch. (It was either she was dieting or she was afraid I’d poison her.)
While I was watching the ice cream melt before my eyes, I noticed that she was a bit edgy. Was she feeling guilty that she snubbed the ice cream I so humbly offered her?
Later, she confessed to me that Channel 7 had an offer for her to co-host the noontime show Lunch Date. Since she couldn’t make up her mind on whether or not to accept the job, she prayed hard and asked for a sign above. And here was the deal: If she was served chocolate cake (or anything with chocolate in it) by anyone, then that was a sign she shouldn’t accept the offer to do Lunch Date. Obviously, she didn’t and the deal with the network fell through.
Later, after about four years, I noticed that his security relaxed a bit. In fact, I still remember this funny incident that happened at the CCP one time. I went there to watch a Sunday evening concert and since it was free seating, I chose to sit with my companions right in the middle of the orchestra section. I thought it was one of the best seats in the house – and it really was.
Before the concert began, a man wearing a barong poked me on the shoulder and said, "Do you mind moving so the President can see better?" I glared at him from over my shoulder and snapped back, "President? President of what?!" (I thought it was a president of a bank or a president of some homeowners’ association.) Then, he replied, "The President. The President of the Republic of the Philippines!" Without thinking, I shot back rather sharply, "Oh, yeah! Where?!" And then, I turned around and there he was, seated right behind me, His Excellency, President Fidel V. Ramos looking very formal in his barong Tagalog – beside his First Lady, Amelita Ramos, dressed elegantly in black.
I wanted to die that very minute and to this day, I still count that episode as one of the most embarrassing moments of my life. (To be concluded)