It was towards the end of 2010, my final semester in university and possibly my last chance to find my break into the modelling world (arguably a faster ticket to becoming rich) before I graduate into the real world of working adults. My college, CBA, was having its culminating night in a club in Tomas Morato and one of the segments of the event was a fashion show. Our batch rep asked me to represent the batch. I accepted without hesitation. I and the other models were to walk the creations of an up-and-coming designer. I thought finally, years of practicing my catwalk by the pilapil is finally getting the proper venue it deserves! Naturally I was very excited. But as an amateur, I couldn’t possibly go without a cheering squad. I had to keep an appearance of being a seasoned fashion model so I commissioned my blockmates, a group of serious accounting students who have little time for these shenanigans, to come to the event with me. They agreed.
On the night of the event, my blockmates and I all went to the venue together. Most of us lived in the campus so congregating was not a problem. I can’t remember what we took to get there. I’m willing to bet it was the ever practical, ever reliable but ever smoke belching jeepney. We could barely afford the taxi fare those days. The club, as with many other clubs, was dark and packed with people. Some illumination came from the makeshift dressing room at the back end of the club and the spot near the entrance where the organizers put up the photobooth. The runway was in the middle of the club.
As soon as we arrived, I left my blockmates to fend for themselves. I had to get coiffed up. I reminded them to be on standby at so and so hour and to get their cheers ready. Syempre kaya nga kami nandito to cheer for you! They were very reassuring.
Then the moment came. I hit the runway with the graceful glide and determined look of a gazelle. I channelled all my focus on the path in front of me, everything else was drowned out by a combination of nerves and adrenaline. I was focused on completing my stint without falling over because it was my reputation ergo my life that was at stake. Relief came over when I completed my walk without hiccups. It was one of the most exhilarating thirty seconds of my life. I looked forward to the videos and photos my blockmates surely would have taken.
I reached for my phone when I returned to the dressing room. There was a text saying they were in a frozen yoghurt shop across the street. I changed back into my mortal clothes, left the club, and ran across the street excited to get their feedback. I entered the little shop elated but I soon wondered why they met my appearance with obvious consternation.
Trishi bakit andito ka na? One of them uttered. Then it dawned on me. My grin instantly faded, blood rushed to my head and before I could stop myself I cried out.
HINDI NYO KO NAPANOOD??!
Drama. The ensuing silence was deafening. No wonder the cheers in the club seemed muted. I could not believe that these people missed out on one of the most important moments of my life because they had a craving for FROYO! The cashier slash shop attendant didn’t know whether to be horrified by the intensity of the standoff or to laugh at the seeming triviality of the situation. I think one of my blockmates offered to buy me a cup of froyo as a peace offering.
The point of this story is that sometimes your friends will fail you. Charot! That’s not it, we laughed over it when we’ve recovered from the shock. The look of remorse on their faces was enough penance. I heard from Tina that both the froyo shop and the club are no longer there. I didn’t get my modelling break either. But the blockmates have gone on to do better things in life and I couldn’t be prouder.
Right: Evidence of betrayal; Left: High road taken. LOL