Tuesday, September 21, 2004
After having gone through by far the worst shopping experience of my life by going to Market Market, I went to play badminton. Yes, that frenzy of a sport claiming the lives of so many people.
But let me digress a little - a side story on Market Market. Popular perceptions brewing around are of this being the high-class Greenhills shopping center, the Philippine version of Thailand’s MBK (right). I excitedly go in with my parents last Sunday, only to be greeted by literally a swarm of what seems to be the entire Taguig and Bicutan population. No offense to anyone living there. But here's the picture - kids, thugs, families and their extended families. Kids are in absolute awe of the escalator, after discovering that when they walk the opposite way, they actually go nowhere. It was the treadmill revelation. More kids whose goal seem to be to short circuit the automatic doors in the shortest possible amount of time... if I step here it opens, step back and it closes... open, close, open close... if only these things can act on their own, I would see freshly squished kids lying around. And I bet that huge colorful playground would be broken even before the Christmas bazaar starts. I could last 14 hours in Divisoria on a holiday, 6 hours in an unventilated Ukay-ukay cluster, and not even 2 hours in Market Market. It was a migraine waiting to happen. Well, actually, it already did.
Anyway, back to the topic at hand. We played badminton - me, Chips, his brother and sister and their respective partners. I, being the only one with a practically naked background on the sport (having last played the thing in my early High School days - not even legitimately... palo-palo lang sa kalsada), missed hitting the shuttlecock like a blindfolded kid missing a pinata (though I had my eyes wide open).
BF of Chips' sister gave me a crash course on the forehands and backhands of badminton. He oriented me with the grip - thumb should be on this side, pointer finger somewhere... and the rest would just grip the thing gingerly, not tightly, for support. He went on to say that the elbow should be raised in such a way, the knees slightly bent, body facing wherever, blah blah blah (short term memory talaga). Wala na. Hindi ko gets. Hindi ko rin na-get ang mga shuttlecock na lumilipad-lipad. He then resorted to analogies: the right way to grip is like how you hold a knife. Great, I got that right. The forehand is like hitting someone over the head, with a follow-through to the side (towards the left side, if you're right handed). And the backhand is like slapping someone with the back of your hand. And from that, I could hit the little damn feathered teepee. It's good to get lessons from him - he knows how to talk to his target market.
Since then, I can barely use the right side of my body. I am in pain. Extreme pain. Yesterday the muscle aches battled for my winces with my first-day cramps (sa kinasamaang palad, dinatnan pa ako, leche). I went to get relief via a massage, but at no avail. Today I am trying to stay awake given 500mg and counting worth of painkillers circulating in my system. I could barely for the life of me even ponytail my hair or clasp my bra. Packers.
And let me end with a digressive question: How did they come to call the little feathered thing a "shuttlecock" anyway?
dezphaire strapped in @ 9:27 PM
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