I am writing this in the first person since this is a personal experience.
At around 4:30 p.m. today, I queued at the Ayala MRT station, Cubao bound, for the coach reserved for pregnant women, minor children, senior citizens, and persons with disabilities, having enjoyed the privilege for the past two years. Four male persons wearing the distinctive blue uniform of members of the Philippine National Police arrived and jostled among the pregnant women, minor children, senior citizens and persons with disabilities at the portion of the station, which was clearly demarcated from the rest of the station with the sign “FOR PREGNANT WOMEN, MINOR CHILDREN, SENIOR CITIZENS AND PWDs”. They were in their twenties, slim, and able bodied but for one who was pot-bellied. Since that was not the first time that I had seen male members of the PNP occupying the coach reserved for the above-stated types of passengers, I approached the four and politely asked them under which of the four categories of passengers did they fall. One sheepishly gave the explanation: “Sir, baka kasi maagaw yong dala namin,” referring to their side arms, which was obviously a lame and sham explanation because the passengers inside the coaches were so cramped, as in a sardine can, that it would be impossible for anyone to grab a policeman’s firearms as this would require elbow room to do so.
I was expecting that with my reminder, they would get out of the reserved area, but they did not. Instead, they engaged me in a friendly banter, asking me what province I came from, where I was going.
I wanted to get their names from their name tags expected to be on their uniforms, but they unanimously drew their jackets tighter to hide their name tags. I told them that if I would take their pictures, this would be the kind that might go viral on the Internet. All the while the other passengers who heard us were nodding their heads in approbation. One would think that with this public display of reprobation of their conduct, they would go to the other lines, but still they did not. They just smiled, feigning oblivious of the reproaching looks surrounding them. When the coaches finally came, they opted to stay behind even as they could very well follow me inside the coach.
Perhaps, it was the fault of the MRT management for not spelling out what PWD meant. The policemen may have understood it as “Pulis Walang Dyahe.”
At around 4:30 p.m. today, I queued at the Ayala MRT station, Cubao bound, for the coach reserved for pregnant women, minor children, senior citizens, and persons with disabilities, having enjoyed the privilege for the past two years. Four male persons wearing the distinctive blue uniform of members of the Philippine National Police arrived and jostled among the pregnant women, minor children, senior citizens and persons with disabilities at the portion of the station, which was clearly demarcated from the rest of the station with the sign “FOR PREGNANT WOMEN, MINOR CHILDREN, SENIOR CITIZENS AND PWDs”. They were in their twenties, slim, and able bodied but for one who was pot-bellied. Since that was not the first time that I had seen male members of the PNP occupying the coach reserved for the above-stated types of passengers, I approached the four and politely asked them under which of the four categories of passengers did they fall. One sheepishly gave the explanation: “Sir, baka kasi maagaw yong dala namin,” referring to their side arms, which was obviously a lame and sham explanation because the passengers inside the coaches were so cramped, as in a sardine can, that it would be impossible for anyone to grab a policeman’s firearms as this would require elbow room to do so.
I was expecting that with my reminder, they would get out of the reserved area, but they did not. Instead, they engaged me in a friendly banter, asking me what province I came from, where I was going.
I wanted to get their names from their name tags expected to be on their uniforms, but they unanimously drew their jackets tighter to hide their name tags. I told them that if I would take their pictures, this would be the kind that might go viral on the Internet. All the while the other passengers who heard us were nodding their heads in approbation. One would think that with this public display of reprobation of their conduct, they would go to the other lines, but still they did not. They just smiled, feigning oblivious of the reproaching looks surrounding them. When the coaches finally came, they opted to stay behind even as they could very well follow me inside the coach.
Perhaps, it was the fault of the MRT management for not spelling out what PWD meant. The policemen may have understood it as “Pulis Walang Dyahe.”