My rolling sari-sari
A couple of weeks ago, my sister-in-laws were trading tips on how to prepare for the upcoming Comic-Con (comic book convention) in California, which they were attending. The veterans recommended backpacks (leave those laptops and netbooks in the hotel unless you have arms like The Hulk and can sacrifice the space), toiletry kits (for the long, 6 a.m. lineup to enter the exalted Halls of Geekdom each morning), a change of clothes, and plenty of baon.
I kind of smirked at all this, thinking, how hard is it to find essential items inside a US convention center? I mean, it’s not like they planned to sleep there, right?
But then most days I find myself behind the wheel driving in Metro Manila, and I realize how my own car has become an alternate home a safe haven, loaded with personal creature comforts. It is, in fact, a virtual rolling sari-sari store, with enough mini items stored inside to last me through long doses of traffic, typhoons, brownouts, maybe even nuclear blasts.
In Seinfeld, George Costanza carts around a mammoth wallet, loaded with every scrap of paper, phone number, discount coupon or sugar packet he can fit in there. “My whole life is in there,” he boasts. I’m like him, but I cart everything around in my car instead. (I usually take the wallet out of my back pocket when driving, it produces butt cramps.)
A quick perusal of the various compartments and coin collectors of my car reveals the following items:
Travel-size cologne Nail clippers Chapstick (plain) Eyedrops Pens Hand sanitizer gel Kleenex (travel pack) V7 Car Perfume Spray (“Sporty Blue”) Astring-O-Sol lemon pastilles
Mints Halls cough drops Jollibee gift certificates Pepper spray
Is this weird? I don’t really know, because I don’t spend any time inspecting other people’s cars, so I have no point of comparison. It’s just the sort of accumulated items that seem to serve me well on the road. Mind you, not all these items were amassed by me; they just sort of arrived, took root, and never left my car’s interior. Now I just enjoy the comfort and convenience of having all these “stocks” onboard.
Maybe it was seeing those enterprising souls out there every day carting hand-cobbled wooden boxes laden with chewing gum, candies, cigarettes (with handy plastic lighter dangling from attached string), bottled water and shrimp crackers, and, as you move along Roxas Boulevard to the port area, rubber steering wheel covers, funny moustache glasses, fishing rods and the like that inspired all this. Perhaps it made me think: Well, if I’m going to be stuck in traffic, I’d better have something to amuse myself. I mean, two can play at that game.
You will notice I don’t store a lot of food in my rolling sari-sari store. Gone are the days of litter-strewn American cars, beer stains and potato chip crumbs decorating the backseats of my youth, crumpled Big Mac wrappers left in glove compartments, next to unpaid parking tickets. I no longer tolerate that kind of careless debris; I run a clean sari-sari, where everything is in its right place. Oh, I might have some cough drops, wrapped candies or mints tucked into the coin carrier between the driver and front passenger seats just a few breath enhancers or giveaways for the occasional street kid.
Speaking of street kids, I’ve acquired a sort of odd habit during rainy season. Since I have about seven or eight umbrellas in my trunk at all times accumulated as corporate giveaways from banks, insurance companies, airlines and such I find it oddly satisfying (and appropriate) to once in a while hand over a fresh umbrella at a stoplight to some wet, lucky, perplexed recipient. Will it keep some kid from getting soaked through to the bones? More likely, that umbrella will go back out on the market marked up and sold off to another sodden pedestrian. But hey, it feels good.
My wife always gives me a sideways look whenever she sees me reach for the nail clipper at a particularly long red light. I try to explain: if I had the time to do all my daily ablutions and sit in traffic for over an hour every day, I wouldn’t need to resort to stoplight grooming. Sometimes a hangnail can really make driving difficult. Geesh.
The pepper spray deserves some explanation. I acquired it years ago after an unfortunate traffic incident someone else’s road rage, for a change and it’s been sitting in a safe dashboard compartment, unused, ever since then. Better to have it and not need it, etc.
The V7 Car Spray was an impulse buy from Robinson’s Galleria. I don’t believe I’ve tested its cloying scent on my car’s interior more than twice, but it still sits there, in the deep front-seat armrest container along with old cassette tapes and leaky pens where its essence has permanently permeated the plastic.
I also keep a mini toolkit with pliers, ratchet set and screwdrivers in my glove compartment. You never know when you want to repair some small electrical gadget while waiting for the lights to change.
Do I really have to explain the cologne? And who doesn’t keep Kleenex in a car? As I’ve written before, Manila is a place where it’s always good to have something on hand to wipe away incidental goo whether it’s from proffered ensaymada, misplaced chewing gum or transmitted sweat. For the same reason, sanitizer gel surely deserves a place in any moving vehicle. And those drive-through GCs are a blessing when you’re far from home but close to keeling over from hunger.
Lip balm, eye drops, any other lubricant: always useful in a hot, dry place, I tell myself. And experience has taught me the value of throat lozenges whenever a coughing fit hits along EDSA. This is a country where having a little of everything on hand can tide you over. Seriously. So the rolling sari-sari rolls on.
They say a man’s home is his castle? Hey, sometimes a man’s car is his 7-Eleven.
