Prosciutto Life

The taxi driver who drove me all the way to Gil Puyat used to drive an armored car. When I said I've always wanted to get in one of those, he said it can be grueling. It had tiny windows, he said, so tiny it made you feel nauseous at first. Then he went on to recall the security measures needed to deliver sacks worth millions of pesos: it needed codes in phone calls, extreme coordination and an obedience to protocol. Back then, it took him fourteen hours straight to fill twenty ATMs and vaults in a single day. He came all the way from Mindanao to study for college in Manila, where he accidentally got one of his auntie's salon girls pregnant. He and the woman split after the baby was born. He mentioned another wife, another life, and a long-forgotten plan of becoming a seaman that he had had to abandon after the big argument he had with his auntie. He was also keen to get a passport soon. I said I went to Lipa City to fix mine. I said the fastest way to an NBI Clearance is to process it right at the main office in U.N. Avenue.