Inter-Community Suspicions and Occurrence of Disasters
At the bus terminal in downtown Olongapo City around 4pm, there was a massive line snaking out its front door and spilling onto the side streets. The line was for purchasing bus tickets to Manila. Dejected by the prospects of late arrival back home, the author nonetheless joined the end of the slow-moving line, hoping that his turn at the ticket window will come as quickly as possible. Rules, when they do seem to exist, should be followed. And with dozens of others anxiously inching forward in the still-hot afternoon sun, there was no reason the author should not. And then, one of the conductors for the half a dozen Manila-bound buses (at least so marked on their front windows) started going out the ever-lengthening line in front of the ticket window, asking if anyone is going on the next bus to Manila. No one in the line made a peep or even looked at the conductor. The author, anxious to go as he always is, raised his hands. The conductor signaled him to join him at the park