Margie Moran’s big fat Greek birthday
October 29, 2003 | 12:00am
You’re invited to my 50th birthday," .... said the SMS which I received one morning while getting started for the day. I stopped what I was doing and reread the text message, wondering why the party was going to last two days. Did I read it correctly, I thought? Just then another text message tooted into that ever present gizmo and it said, "Oh sorry I forgot to say it’s going to be in Davao..."
Those words sent via the remarkable technology of wireless communication started it all for most of us who were lucky enough to make it to Margie Moran Floirendo’s and the 1973 Miss Universe’s 50th birthday extravaganza in Davao City. Flying over the not-so friendly skies of Mindanao and crossing the chilly deep waters of Davao made the occasion both special and exciting. (Think Abu S... OK, never mind.) Special for me at least because I had not visited Davao since the ’80s (where have you been, asked Maurice in horror, but that’s another story...) and exciting because, well, I love these two- to three-day parties. Takaw tipar! (Come on, admit it, no one throws these marathon parties anymore...)
The moment our commercial Airbus touched down in Davao’s international airport, we were thrust into the hands of Lolit, Margie’s trusted "ground control brigadier general." She miraculously gathered all of us bandidos in three waiting vans, where she hauled all our bags from the conveyor belt, and sent us to one of Davao’s best Chinese restos strangely called Arfat (I think it means people who eat here are fat or are going to be very fat) where we almost ate even the cloths off the tables.
After that, the celebration began: There was shopping in the city in the afternoon. We picked out bags, house décor, and odd things like Bonjin’s humongous kapok pillows. (Raul Manzano was puzzled at the size of the hand- bag she purchased and I, of course, corrected him and said that the pillow is the latest accessory now – you’re so not in the loop, Raul, I admonished him.) We also brought this aromatherapy doodad that looked like a giant pin cushion infused with random herbs and spices that functions as a hot bag (stick it in the microwave) or cold compress (shove it in the freezer) for various ills and pains. (I will need it when this party’s over, I thought). After trudging up and down three floors of the Mindanao Convention Center, where we experienced Davao’s version of a bazaar slash tiangge for two hours (ouch on our feet and wallets) we decided to come up for air before swimming into the evening’s festivities. So off some of us went to Shella’s, este, Sheila’s salon for a quick beauty fix. (But hello! There’s no such thing as a quickie in Davao. It took us four hours for a hair blow-out, and nail job, one service per hour – as opposed to the Manila salon modus op of an army of five people descending upon you to attack your hair, hands, feet, head and shoulder, and not to forget that special creature to hold the heavy-duty blower for the senior hairstylist – so, voila, you’re J. Lo-pretty in one hour tops!)
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, at exactly seven in the evening, the cast of party characters were all decked out in the night’s required uniform: Greek god/goddess or a similar vision in immaculate white. If nothing works, mortals can wear bed sheets, advised the invitation for the first night’s theme party. After that, a Davao style bacchanalian feast of food, drinks, fascinating people, music, dance and laughter became the order of our two days in that beautiful Southern paradise.
Here in pictures is the story of that merry-making we happily "endured" in Davao for Margie, crowned beauty of the universe, protectress of the civilized world – Davao’s and our Miss Universe forever.
Those words sent via the remarkable technology of wireless communication started it all for most of us who were lucky enough to make it to Margie Moran Floirendo’s and the 1973 Miss Universe’s 50th birthday extravaganza in Davao City. Flying over the not-so friendly skies of Mindanao and crossing the chilly deep waters of Davao made the occasion both special and exciting. (Think Abu S... OK, never mind.) Special for me at least because I had not visited Davao since the ’80s (where have you been, asked Maurice in horror, but that’s another story...) and exciting because, well, I love these two- to three-day parties. Takaw tipar! (Come on, admit it, no one throws these marathon parties anymore...)
The moment our commercial Airbus touched down in Davao’s international airport, we were thrust into the hands of Lolit, Margie’s trusted "ground control brigadier general." She miraculously gathered all of us bandidos in three waiting vans, where she hauled all our bags from the conveyor belt, and sent us to one of Davao’s best Chinese restos strangely called Arfat (I think it means people who eat here are fat or are going to be very fat) where we almost ate even the cloths off the tables.
After that, the celebration began: There was shopping in the city in the afternoon. We picked out bags, house décor, and odd things like Bonjin’s humongous kapok pillows. (Raul Manzano was puzzled at the size of the hand- bag she purchased and I, of course, corrected him and said that the pillow is the latest accessory now – you’re so not in the loop, Raul, I admonished him.) We also brought this aromatherapy doodad that looked like a giant pin cushion infused with random herbs and spices that functions as a hot bag (stick it in the microwave) or cold compress (shove it in the freezer) for various ills and pains. (I will need it when this party’s over, I thought). After trudging up and down three floors of the Mindanao Convention Center, where we experienced Davao’s version of a bazaar slash tiangge for two hours (ouch on our feet and wallets) we decided to come up for air before swimming into the evening’s festivities. So off some of us went to Shella’s, este, Sheila’s salon for a quick beauty fix. (But hello! There’s no such thing as a quickie in Davao. It took us four hours for a hair blow-out, and nail job, one service per hour – as opposed to the Manila salon modus op of an army of five people descending upon you to attack your hair, hands, feet, head and shoulder, and not to forget that special creature to hold the heavy-duty blower for the senior hairstylist – so, voila, you’re J. Lo-pretty in one hour tops!)
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, at exactly seven in the evening, the cast of party characters were all decked out in the night’s required uniform: Greek god/goddess or a similar vision in immaculate white. If nothing works, mortals can wear bed sheets, advised the invitation for the first night’s theme party. After that, a Davao style bacchanalian feast of food, drinks, fascinating people, music, dance and laughter became the order of our two days in that beautiful Southern paradise.
Here in pictures is the story of that merry-making we happily "endured" in Davao for Margie, crowned beauty of the universe, protectress of the civilized world – Davao’s and our Miss Universe forever.
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