Chicken Joy

Thanks to J, my default resto of choice if I’m hungry but I don’t want to bother thinking of what to eat is Jollibee. I’d order pancit palabok and either a double cheeseburger or a 1-piece chicken.

So two nights ago I found myself having a late dinner in Jollibee on a wet and gloomy evening when I noticed the young couple in front of me. She was Filipina, with frizzy hair clinging to her neck; he looked Japanese, wearing the prerequisite business suit. She looked like a secretary; he looked like a junior suit, the kind left behind by the power suits to clean up their mess after they fly back to their home countries.

They only had eyes for each other. That one was pretty obvious despite their attempts at behaving. At first his chair was at a respectable distance from her chair. As I was twirling noodles onto my fork, I glanced under their table and I saw them surreptitiously hold hands for a few seconds before breaking off contact. How sweet.

Normally I would have gagged with my palabok at that point. But recent events have made me more tolerant of such sweetness. And after all, they were strangers anyway.

He had ordered a fudge sundae; she had ordered a Jolli-hotdog. What a sly choice for dinner! She shoved that sandwich down her throat so demurely yet provocatively. No wonder he couldn’t get his hands off her.

I shoveled the last forkful of noodles and stood up. They were now looking into each other’s eyes.

Outside the rain was relentless. I took one final glance at them inside the store. Just outside their window hung a Jollibee poster. I immediately took note of its tagline: “Sa Jollibee, bida ang saya, bida ang sarap.”

How fitting.