A letter to my future child, part two of two
Dear Future Child,
As I have promised, this is the second part of my letter about that one Valentine's night, when your mom set out for an adventure of her lifetime to Slapshock's Atake advance listening party in the band's studio in Project 6, Quezon City.
When your mom and her officemates were dismissed from work at 6 p.m., your mom thought she still had plenty of time before the event. She actually had but a vague idea of how to get to the venue, thanks to Google Maps and Sakay.ph. She had to board the MRT from Boni Station and get off at North Avenue Station. Then she had to ride a jeep to Road 3, along which the building where the studio was, was situated.
But she did not have a freaking idea how the streets she was about to traverse that night looked like.
But who cares? She threw all precaution aside for fandom's sake. For some time, at least.
Before your mom and an officemate (the one who told your mom to go to the event in my previous letter) boarded the MRT, they went for a little shopping in a nearby mall first.
Your mom went to the MRT Boni Station at a quarter to 7 p.m.
She arrived at TriNoma at about 7:30 p.m. Shit, I only have thirty minutes, she thought. But just in case there were no food in the venue, or a nearby place where one can buy some food, she proceeded to Jollibee for a "quick" supper, as she promised herself.
She finished eating at about 7:50 p.m. Oh no. Ten minutes.
After a few more minutes of searching for a jeep or cab to take her to her destination, your mom was able to board a jeep at about 8 p.m.
On the jeep, your mom started asking a few passengers where the heck Road 3 was. After asking about a couple passengers and the driver himself, one elderly passenger had helped mark the corner of Road 1 and Road 3. Your mom got off at that point and tried to look for Philcomspec Building, #155 at Road 3. Luckily, all she could find were houses with any number but #155. And from what Google Maps had shown her, #155 looks like a commercial/apartment building. The houses she could see near the corner of Roads 1 and 3 did not look like one at all.
#nowplaying Slapshock - "Direction"
She was about thirty minutes late. And all the taxis she had been waving at ignored her. They already had passengers for the night.
Until miraculously, a very nice middle-aged driver stopped by and offered to take her to #155 Road 3.
"I-Waze mo," the driver suggested as they drove along Road 3. "Tutunog naman 'yan 'pag nandun na tayo." He suggested that your mom use Waze; it will notify them whether they were close to the area or had arrived. Good thing your mom had purchased enough load and had availed of some mobile data promo to last until the next day.
She got to the spot at almost 9 p.m. To her relief. Because the thingy had not started yet. There were only a handful of people. Where were all the other winners in the contest?
A female fan among a few people gathered outside the studio smiled at your mom. Your mom took it as a hint, but still asked, "Is this the Slapshock listening party?"
"Yes," the female fan said with a kind nod.
Your mom spent the next few minutes--or rather, the next hour--sitting silently, browsing through her different social media accounts, not talking to anybody. She did not know these people. She also couldn't recognize who the band members were among those people. From what she could hear of the conversations there, muffled but audible despite Guns 'N' Roses' Appetite for Destruction playing on background, she sensed that some of the band members were already there. She was looking for Jamir Garcia, the vocalist,* but she could not find him there.
A few more fans came in. Your mom could sense social anxiety climbing up her throat. She was tempted to walk out, pretend somebody called her and told her that she needed to go back home, and go Grab a taxi.**
When the PR Guy*** brought out a big Big Guys' pizza and some drinks (i.e., beer), and offered that they eat. But first, they had to pray for the food. PR Guy led the prayer. But even after the prayer, no one among the fans dared take a slice of the pizza.
"Sige na, kuha na kayo," PR Guy persuaded us to go get a slice or two.
Your mom happened to look at another female fan beside her, and they smiled at each other. After that, they had the courage to grab their share of the gigantic pizza.
And just like that, your mom was in for the night of her life. Or one of the nights.
Looking back at that one freaking heck of a night, your mom was deeply indebted to the angel God must have sent to her to guide her through that terrain of Slapshock fandom.
Because of her new found friend, your mom was able to take some shots with the Slapshock members who were there.
At a little after 10 p.m., they were ushered into the studio for the moment they were all waiting for.
Before the (auditory) rampage started, PR Guy announced that, sadly, Jamir and Jerry Basco, guitarist and also Jamir's cousin, were not around. Jamir was in the US at the time. But the show would go on. After warning them not to record what they will be hearing for the night (an SOP, actually), the party finally started.
At this point, as she had promised, your mom would not give away any spoilers (because spoilers, true to their name, really do spoil). But the next hour was... heavy. And dark(er than Fifty Shades Darker, which at the time was showing in theaters). And Slapshock at its freaking. Merciless. Best (as if they haven't always been!). Though some riffs from a certain song reminded her of veteran thrash metal band Lamb of God, the album was like swear-to-God nothing she had ever heard before. The whole shebang was, as one of her college professors would always say, "a different orgasm." Define their "Cariño Brutal," which only heightens in each of their albums--a freaking awesome achievement for a band of twenty freaking years.
They paused after the eighth song to announce that the last two songs are especially dedicated to the SlapArmy who have always been on their guard for twenty years and counting. By the time, your mom lifted an arm--and found it felt light. Her head was a little wobbly, too, and inside her she felt weird. Thanks to the can of beer she drank out of the curiosity she had been dying of at the moment.
"I thought you won't be drinking that?!" Ate Ger, your mom's new found friend, was astonished. After all, your mom told her she doesn't really drink. But there you go: your mom, raised in a Catholic-turned-Christian family by her ex-beer-drinker parents, DRANK. A CAN. OF RED HORSE. In her favorite local metal band's advance album listening party on the night of your grandmother's forty-ninth birthday.
Later, after the listening part of the party, Lee (yes, THE Lee Nadela) would chucklingly tell your mom, "Hala, lagot ka sa mama mo." Oh no, what if your grandmother knew your mom drank a can of beer? What if you, my future child, knew your mom just broke one of her house's and her "religion"'s most important rules?
After the whole album was finished, the fans were all speechless. So much so that all they could do was give the band a warm round of applause. Sorry for the cliché; your mom was speechless like that.
After that, I had a quite long chat with Lee. From talking about Slapshock's music, later on we were chatting about persecution experienced by millennials (thanks to "We Are One") to commercialism in the Philippine music industry. Then we got to a point where I opened up about my plans of getting a master's degree in creative writing, which of course would greatly affect my current career. And he actually encouraged me to pursue it.
Never had your mom met such humble rock stars in her life. And actually, it rocks.
After that came a rather awkward convo with a fan who might have drunk too much beer that your mom and Wasted Guy ended up talking about Slapshock and Alesana and the official Slap Army FB group and how he was a big fan of Slapshock and Slapshock and Alesana and "Ambrosia" and "Apology" and Slapshock and Alesana and "Agent Orange" and "We Are One" and Slapshock and Alesana REPEAT TILL FADE.****
In the middle of the convo, Wasted Guy said, "I'm not drunk." But your mom knew better, especially when Wasted Guy suddenly stooped and upset some of his beer just near where your mom stood.
When Ate Ger distracted your mom from her wasted convo with Wasted Guy, your mom heaved a sigh of relief.
And did I mention that your mom had had a headache. Which made her decide not to drink beer anymore. Never again.
Because they feared for their safety that night, Ate Ger and your mom went home at about 1:30 a.m. or 2 a.m. the following morning. They stopped over at Philcoa so your mom could take a cup noodle snack (as recommended by a guy friend of hers, and an episode in Eros Atalia's Ligo Na U, Lapit Na Me that came to her mind at the moment) and a tablet of mefenamic acid.
Your mom arrived home safely at 2:30 a.m., chaperoned by your grandpa, who like your grandma thought their daughter was from a company-related event.
Your mom reported to work half-day the next day, to be congratulated by her dear officemate for having drunk beer.
Now, after reading this, I hope this has given you another reason to celebrate the fourteenth of February sans the unnecessary cheesiness of the commercialized celebration of the occasion.
And by the way, my future child, if you are ever thinking of drinking beer, your mom's guy friend mentioned earlier highly recommends Smirnoff.
With love,
Your Future Mom
PS.
* Your mom could recognize Jamir of all people because, in her opinion at least, Jamir somehow (especially in his younger years) looks like a guy she knows. Or one that she used to know.
** Capitalization on Grab intended, since your mom is referring to that app that helps you hail a cab.
*** Like the Manager, most people in the Slap Army know him, but I am also obscuring his identity here for the same reason.
**** Thanks to your mom's Alesana shirt.
As I have promised, this is the second part of my letter about that one Valentine's night, when your mom set out for an adventure of her lifetime to Slapshock's Atake advance listening party in the band's studio in Project 6, Quezon City.
When your mom and her officemates were dismissed from work at 6 p.m., your mom thought she still had plenty of time before the event. She actually had but a vague idea of how to get to the venue, thanks to Google Maps and Sakay.ph. She had to board the MRT from Boni Station and get off at North Avenue Station. Then she had to ride a jeep to Road 3, along which the building where the studio was, was situated.
But she did not have a freaking idea how the streets she was about to traverse that night looked like.
But who cares? She threw all precaution aside for fandom's sake. For some time, at least.
Before your mom and an officemate (the one who told your mom to go to the event in my previous letter) boarded the MRT, they went for a little shopping in a nearby mall first.
Your mom went to the MRT Boni Station at a quarter to 7 p.m.
She arrived at TriNoma at about 7:30 p.m. Shit, I only have thirty minutes, she thought. But just in case there were no food in the venue, or a nearby place where one can buy some food, she proceeded to Jollibee for a "quick" supper, as she promised herself.
She finished eating at about 7:50 p.m. Oh no. Ten minutes.
After a few more minutes of searching for a jeep or cab to take her to her destination, your mom was able to board a jeep at about 8 p.m.
On the jeep, your mom started asking a few passengers where the heck Road 3 was. After asking about a couple passengers and the driver himself, one elderly passenger had helped mark the corner of Road 1 and Road 3. Your mom got off at that point and tried to look for Philcomspec Building, #155 at Road 3. Luckily, all she could find were houses with any number but #155. And from what Google Maps had shown her, #155 looks like a commercial/apartment building. The houses she could see near the corner of Roads 1 and 3 did not look like one at all.
#nowplaying Slapshock - "Direction"
She was about thirty minutes late. And all the taxis she had been waving at ignored her. They already had passengers for the night.
Until miraculously, a very nice middle-aged driver stopped by and offered to take her to #155 Road 3.
"I-Waze mo," the driver suggested as they drove along Road 3. "Tutunog naman 'yan 'pag nandun na tayo." He suggested that your mom use Waze; it will notify them whether they were close to the area or had arrived. Good thing your mom had purchased enough load and had availed of some mobile data promo to last until the next day.
She got to the spot at almost 9 p.m. To her relief. Because the thingy had not started yet. There were only a handful of people. Where were all the other winners in the contest?
A female fan among a few people gathered outside the studio smiled at your mom. Your mom took it as a hint, but still asked, "Is this the Slapshock listening party?"
"Yes," the female fan said with a kind nod.
Your mom spent the next few minutes--or rather, the next hour--sitting silently, browsing through her different social media accounts, not talking to anybody. She did not know these people. She also couldn't recognize who the band members were among those people. From what she could hear of the conversations there, muffled but audible despite Guns 'N' Roses' Appetite for Destruction playing on background, she sensed that some of the band members were already there. She was looking for Jamir Garcia, the vocalist,* but she could not find him there.
A few more fans came in. Your mom could sense social anxiety climbing up her throat. She was tempted to walk out, pretend somebody called her and told her that she needed to go back home, and go Grab a taxi.**
When the PR Guy*** brought out a big Big Guys' pizza and some drinks (i.e., beer), and offered that they eat. But first, they had to pray for the food. PR Guy led the prayer. But even after the prayer, no one among the fans dared take a slice of the pizza.
"Sige na, kuha na kayo," PR Guy persuaded us to go get a slice or two.
Your mom happened to look at another female fan beside her, and they smiled at each other. After that, they had the courage to grab their share of the gigantic pizza.
And just like that, your mom was in for the night of her life. Or one of the nights.
Looking back at that one freaking heck of a night, your mom was deeply indebted to the angel God must have sent to her to guide her through that terrain of Slapshock fandom.
Oh no, "Destroy" was destroyed. This was in Destroy Clothing, BTW, which is beside the studio. |
In the building's powder room 😂 |
Because of her new found friend, your mom was able to take some shots with the Slapshock members who were there.
With Lee Nadela, bassist. |
With Lean Ansing, guitarist. |
At a little after 10 p.m., they were ushered into the studio for the moment they were all waiting for.
Before the (auditory) rampage started, PR Guy announced that, sadly, Jamir and Jerry Basco, guitarist and also Jamir's cousin, were not around. Jamir was in the US at the time. But the show would go on. After warning them not to record what they will be hearing for the night (an SOP, actually), the party finally started.
At this point, as she had promised, your mom would not give away any spoilers (because spoilers, true to their name, really do spoil). But the next hour was... heavy. And dark(er than Fifty Shades Darker, which at the time was showing in theaters). And Slapshock at its freaking. Merciless. Best (as if they haven't always been!). Though some riffs from a certain song reminded her of veteran thrash metal band Lamb of God, the album was like swear-to-God nothing she had ever heard before. The whole shebang was, as one of her college professors would always say, "a different orgasm." Define their "Cariño Brutal," which only heightens in each of their albums--a freaking awesome achievement for a band of twenty freaking years.
They paused after the eighth song to announce that the last two songs are especially dedicated to the SlapArmy who have always been on their guard for twenty years and counting. By the time, your mom lifted an arm--and found it felt light. Her head was a little wobbly, too, and inside her she felt weird. Thanks to the can of beer she drank out of the curiosity she had been dying of at the moment.
"I thought you won't be drinking that?!" Ate Ger, your mom's new found friend, was astonished. After all, your mom told her she doesn't really drink. But there you go: your mom, raised in a Catholic-turned-Christian family by her ex-beer-drinker parents, DRANK. A CAN. OF RED HORSE. In her favorite local metal band's advance album listening party on the night of your grandmother's forty-ninth birthday.
Later, after the listening part of the party, Lee (yes, THE Lee Nadela) would chucklingly tell your mom, "Hala, lagot ka sa mama mo." Oh no, what if your grandmother knew your mom drank a can of beer? What if you, my future child, knew your mom just broke one of her house's and her "religion"'s most important rules?
After the whole album was finished, the fans were all speechless. So much so that all they could do was give the band a warm round of applause. Sorry for the cliché; your mom was speechless like that.
Try to look for mommy here! The "Class Picture" from here. |
Never had your mom met such humble rock stars in her life. And actually, it rocks.
With Lee again :) |
And with Chi Evora, drummer. |
In the middle of the convo, Wasted Guy said, "I'm not drunk." But your mom knew better, especially when Wasted Guy suddenly stooped and upset some of his beer just near where your mom stood.
When Ate Ger distracted your mom from her wasted convo with Wasted Guy, your mom heaved a sigh of relief.
And did I mention that your mom had had a headache. Which made her decide not to drink beer anymore. Never again.
Back to safety! 😂 |
Your mom arrived home safely at 2:30 a.m., chaperoned by your grandpa, who like your grandma thought their daughter was from a company-related event.
Your mom reported to work half-day the next day, to be congratulated by her dear officemate for having drunk beer.
Now, after reading this, I hope this has given you another reason to celebrate the fourteenth of February sans the unnecessary cheesiness of the commercialized celebration of the occasion.
Happy pure rocking 20th, Slapshock! #ATAKE |
And by the way, my future child, if you are ever thinking of drinking beer, your mom's guy friend mentioned earlier highly recommends Smirnoff.
With love,
Your Future Mom
PS.
* Your mom could recognize Jamir of all people because, in her opinion at least, Jamir somehow (especially in his younger years) looks like a guy she knows. Or one that she used to know.
** Capitalization on Grab intended, since your mom is referring to that app that helps you hail a cab.
*** Like the Manager, most people in the Slap Army know him, but I am also obscuring his identity here for the same reason.
**** Thanks to your mom's Alesana shirt.
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