The fast and the spurious

We lost to an underwear model.

So there we were, last-place starters in the Samsung Innov8 Race, armed only with a good insurance policy, empty bladders and Amazing Race Asia’s Rovilson (or his prison nickname, “Rovi”) Fernandez’s crumbling ego. Our four-man team, composed of a Samsung representative, a cell phone dealer, a good-looking member of the press and a scalp-deficient celebrity, were off on an eight-part race where each consecutive task grew exponentially more difficult: take pictures using our Samsung cell phone, perform a series of tai-chi movements, scurry up a 50-foot-high wall, drive three laps down a championship race course, explain the concept of double insertions to the Senate minority, overthrow the administration, bring about world peace, and watch an 18-hour DVD of The Best of Kris Aquino’s game show hostings.  

For our team, this was a chance for each of us to score a free Samsung Innov8 i8510 cell phone. But it was much more for the geographically-illiterate Rovi: this was his chance for redemption from his lackluster Amazing Race Asia finish behind a well-groomed gang of Singaporean gym rats and a team of perky Malaysian mestizas (Rovi’s strategy: If you can’t beat them, make one of them your girlfriend). He was determined that we would be the first team zipping off the starting line until my mutant ability to urinate every 30 minutes forced our team to make a last-minute detour to the restroom. 

“You guys are a bunch of wimps!” Rovi wailed as we squeezed into the pickup. “This never happened to Marc and I when were on The Amazing Race Asia! We did what we real men do and wore adult diapers!” Rovi folded his arms and started talking to himself. “Do you think you could do that to Jon Hall? Do you? All you can do is use your pectorals to crush chestnuts!”

“Um, Rovi, do you have any last-minute advice before we zoom off?” I asked. “Should we have a game plan? Should we pack extra underwear? Should we have last rites? Should we replace you with Marc Nelson?” 

“The most important thing in this race is,” Rovi cleared his throat, “to think of witty banter with your partner so you get more face time when they edit the show for TV. Or just cuss a lot. Remember — controversy equals ratings! Now let’s go, speed racer!”

Go, Go Speed Racer

For our three female readers who want to risk trauma, dignity and scalp exposure in a reality TV-inspired show race, here are a couple of our uninsured tips:

1. It is best to have a driver who is a theoretical physicist. Our driver believed that counterflow, tail-gaiting and, most importantly, a red light, were all theoretical concepts. Once we figured out that our first task was to find the quickest route from The Peninsula Hotel in Makati to Rajah Sulayman in Manila, we plowed through several orange cones, cement barriers and MMDA representatives. We drove so fast that I think we left my testicles behind along the stretch of Roxas Boulevard. However, careening down Metro Manila streets at warp speed means you will possibly break the law. And to be able to break the law effectively, you need to enlist the assistance of law enforcement. Note the proper way of going about it. 

“Bulag ba kayo (Are you blind)!?” barked the portly MMDA traffic enforcer who had more chins than Chinatown. “Can’t you see this is a one-way street!?” 

“Sir, sir, ok lang yan (Sir, sir, it’s all okay),” I said with a smirk. “We’re celebrities competing in a reality TV show-inspired race. May k kami (We’ve got the power).”

“At may k akong ilubog kayong lahat sa pink urinal (And I have the power to dunk all of you in the pink urinals),” The MMDA representative grunted, “Saan yung lisensya ng driver ninyo (Where’s the license of your driver)?” he motioned with his fingers. 

“’Di mo ba ako naaalala (Don’t you remember who I am)!?” I was aghast. “Ako yung sa Royal Tru-Orange noon (I was the one from the Royal Tru-Orange commercial before)!” The enforcer scratched his head (of course, I am sure he merely feigned ignorance).

“Ikaw ba yung softdrink machine na nagiging robot (Are you the softdrink machine that turns into a robot)?” he sneered.

“Ako si Joey (I’m Joey)!” I growled while whipping out my wallet-sized reproductions of all my 15 commercials, three posters, and newspaper articles to refresh his memory.  

The MMDA enforcer was about to put his batuta to good use when Rovi interrupted. “Officer, don’t you know who I am?” he mugged a smile. “I’m the reason why the Philippines lost in the Amazing Race Season Two.”

The enforcer’s face lit up like a congressman who just got his pork barrel. “Woooowww, seerrr!!” he shrieked and clapped his hands. “Mas-kyut ka pala sa personal. Pahengeng awtograp (You’re cuter in person. Can I have your autograph)?”

Two minutes later, we were racing down Roxas Boulevard with a bevy of MMDA escort vehicles helping us wang-wang our way through traffic. Despite being sardine-tight inside our pickup, our sumo-sized traffic enforcer insisted that he sit beside Rovi for the duration of our trip. “Bosing, baka pwede mo akong batiin sa teevee?” (Boss, can you greet me on TV?)” he giggled while gently sliding his arm around Rovi’s waist. “At pa-keeees naman jan (And can I have a kiss)?” Rovi clenched his teeth. “This never happened to Marc and I when we were on The Amazing Race Asia,” he sighed.

Because of Rovi’s tongue-in-cheek sacrifice, we were the first ones to arrive at Rajah Sulayman. We bounced out of the vehicle to start our first challenge while we left Rovi inside the pickup to gargle with lighter fluid. And by the time Rovi had emptied the contents of the car deodorant into his mouth, we had completed our first picture-taking challenge on the i8510. 

“Take that, Singapore!” Rovi raised his fist in his defiance while we received our next clue. When we zipped away from Rajah Sulayman, we spied the arrival of our imagined archrivals JR and John at the stop. “And take that, Jon Hall,” Rovi muttered under his breath. “Your underwear contract is mine, b&*^%!”

2. Hey Peydro, how’s my Tagalog? Although the featured mugshots of Sam Milby, Will Devaugh and Mo Twister appear on “Most Wanted” posters for the atrocities they have committed against the national language, mine and Rovi’s names have managed to sneak onto the posters as repeat offenders. Anybody within hearing range of us when we speak Tagalog risks having their heads spontaneously explode. Among the many crimes perpetrated against the language include invented Tagalization, sentence and grammatical deconstruction, misplaced inflection and enunciation, and, the most horrible of them all, vowel pronunciation. Witness a crime in progress:

Our GPS told us to look for Taylo street in Makati. “Where the hell is Taylo street!” Rovi screeched. “You guys are such amateurs! This never happened to Marc and I when we were on The Amazing Race Asia.”

After 15 minutes of driving around aimlessly and giving away free autographs to tricycle drivers, we made a pit stop at a neighborhood police station. Rovi and I were initially reluctant to enter the station because the only times we have ever been inside one was when we were asked to join a police lineup.

“Officer, alam nyo ba kung saan ang Taylo (Officer, do you know where Taylo street is)?”

“Ano (What)?”he was visibly annoyed that we had interrupted him from completing his Sudoku puzzle.

“Tay-low,” I enunciated.  

The officer furrowed his brows: “Jay-Low?” 

Dear Lord in heaven, help me because I want to decapitate a police officer. “Hindi, po. Tay-low (No, sir. It’s Tay-low).”

 The cop’s nostrils flared. “Baka naman yung hinanahap mo ay Tay-lo (Maybe you are looking for Tay-lo)?”

“Tay-lo?”

“Tay-lo yan, hindi yan Tay-Low. Para ka namang ‘kano kung magsalita (It’s Tay-lo, not Tay-low. You’re pronouncing it like an American)!” The officer rolled his eyes “Yung tamang pagbigkas ng ‘a’ sa ‘Tay’ ay hindi parang play. Ang tamang pagbigkas ng ‘a’ sa ‘Tay’ ay parang patay” (The right way to pronounce the ‘a’ is ‘i,’ as in ‘patay’). Ipaplantsa mo nga yung dila mo (Get your tongue ironed out)!” The cop pursed his lips and used them to point left: “Doon lang yung Taylo (Taylo’s just over there).”

I bit my tongue in disdain while Rovi punched his fist against the wall. “Damn you, Jon Hall! Damn you!” After that impromptu grammar session, we dashed out of the police station. Rovi dropped his head: “This never happened to Marc and I when we were in The Amazing Race Asia...”

Our loose vowel movement had done its damage. When we finally arrived at the second stop, we discovered that our team had dropped to fourth place. And despite the many times Rovi gave mouth-to-mouth to law enforcers, despite the number of times we had to explain that there was nothing anomalous about double insertions, and despite watching 18 hours worth of Kris Aquino, we never regained our first-place standing. By the last leg of the race, there was a mad scramble between three teams for second-place finish. Which, incidentally, leads me to the last tip on how to lose with dignity on a reality TV show-inspired race:

3. When in doubt, protest. It happens in beauty contests, it happens in national elections, and it happens in jack en poy: We Pinoys never really lose. We just get cheated out of our victory. And we relived this proud tradition when the other teams wanted to urinate on what appeared to be our second-place finish. Some of them complained to the organizers that we had not yet completed one task before moving on to the next one, some of them complained that I had left my testicles along the stretch of Roxas Boulevard, and some even had the gall to complain that Rovi and I should be arrested for acts of lasciviousness during the course of the race. How dare they accuse us of acting! If they have any complaints, I say tell those teams to elevate their complaints to the Comelec. I’m sure the Comelec will render a fair and impartial decision by the time that we have grandchildren. 

In the end, the anti-Christs JR Isaac and Jon Hall clinched first place in the race. Congratulations, JR and Jon! You deserve the first prize as much as GMA deserves the presidency. Meanwhile, our team ended up in third place. “Oh, well. At least I’m consistent,” Rovi sighed. “But your underwear contract will be mine one day, Jon Hall.”

But even with our third-place finish, the lower-ranked teams persisted with their complaints. One of the teams even accused us of doping. “Look,” I fumed. “We weren’t doping! I know that Rovi has a disproportionately large right forearm.” Then I whispered loudly: “But is it his fault that he was single for such a long time!?”

Hay naku, don’t those lower-ranking teams realize that they didn’t lose to doping? They just lost to a couple of dopes. 

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For comments, suggestions or the shreds of Rovi’s dignity, text PM POGI <text message> to 2948 for Globe, Smart and Sun subscribers. Or email ledesma.rj@gmail.com or visit my blog at www.rjledesma.net.