AT LAST, A WORTHY MATCH FOR THE YA SHOW SALESLADIES

If there's one thing that makes the Home Office neighborhood less than totally awesome, it's the presence of "mixers". These are those enterprising individuals who block the path of the general public, chase them down the sidewalk, grab their arms, poke a stick in their bags, rifle through their papers, hound them, interrogate them, perform cavity probes on them, and generally go where Jack Bauer wouldn't -- all for the purpose of coming to the same inevitable conclusion: "Ma'am, may kulang."

As relentless as a La Salle full-court press, mixers intercept people as soon as the latter step off their jeepneys, then go stride-for-stride with them the length of the street. They are so singularly focused on their marks that, one time, a particularly short "mixer" wouldn't watch where he was going and ran his face straight into my (ahem) muscular shoulder. And, oh, those tactics! When some public address loudspeakers were once set up on the roadside, the "mixers" countered by drowning them out with that greatest of Philippine inventions -- karaoke!

Hopefully, the whole situation will be resolved very soon. In the meantime, I have this recurring daydream/fantasy where the people are overwhelmed by "mixers", so I climb up one of those blue lampposts and in a loud yet deep baritone yell "Citizens! Follow me! Follow me TO FREEDOM!!", whereupon everyone looks up from the arm-grabs and bag-pokes, breaks free from the "mixers", then starts marching behind me while chanting Dad-dy! Dad-d...er...Man-ny! Man-ny! An 80s-movie musical montage may or may not also ensue the POINT BEING if you're ever in the Home Office neighborhood, just go about your business and keep walking. If it ain't broke, don't "mix" it, ika nga.

But do stay for some karaoke after.