Living the dream

The Jungle Log Jam at Enchanted Kingdom scares the living daylights out of me. I’m afraid of heights, and especially afraid of the torturously slow ascent. The knowledge that a drop is inevitable is more terrifying than the drop itself, and as gravity pulls me down, as the sheer force of inertia holds me back, I scream. I scream like an idiot at the top of my lungs until the crash hurls me back into sanity. And so there I am, at the end of the mechanical river, dripping wet.

Two years ago, I swore I would never ride that horror again. Two weeks ago, I rode it two times in a row, because a young girl I had just met wanted to. It wasn’t that bad at all. In fact, I found it rather fun, and funny, that I, the supposedly mature 18-year-old, was more afraid of a ride than the much younger Angie. She was quiet and clearly unafraid. She was smiling; she was happy.

Most of the time, I’m more concerned about making myself happy; to hell with everyone else. But on the few rare occasions that I’m given the chance to make someone else smile, I find that the feeling is a lot more fulfilling than, say, retail therapy.

It was especially meaningful to me in this case because Angie is an orphan. Last August 27, the Living Dreams Organization took over a hundred of orphans to enjoy a sunny day at Enchanted Kingdom. Young people from the Ateneo De Manila University, University of Asia and the Pacific, Assumption College, Immaculate Conception Academy, Woodrose, and other schools came together to be brothers and sisters to these children and to spend a day adventuring through the thrills of the country’s best amusement park. This is the second time they’ve done this; usually, they hold Christmas parties for these children.

Often, I find myself wondering why people do these big acts of random kindness when they don’t really have to. Why go through all the trouble of doing something for someone you don’t even know? What could you possibly gain in return?

There was nothing material involved on either end. The organization didn’t shell out exorbitant amounts of money, save fees for meals and entrance. They gave the children something better. They gave them a day of happiness, a little shot at the freedom that comes from being able to just relax, let loose, and enjoy oneself. They gave those children love, companionship, and friendship.

And what did they get at the end of the day? Several new friends, a great afternoon, and the knowledge that they did something good for somebody else, that they made someone happy.

Some people have more, and some have less. It is, unfortunately, the way of the world; some of us are just luckier than others. Still, everyone deserves happiness. Everyone deserves love. As human beings, perhaps it is our obligation to make sure that everyone gets a shot at pure, innocent bliss. Perhaps we are meant to help others touch the sky and make dreams come true.

* * *

You can e-mail me at bewaretheashtraygirl@yahoo.com.