There’s no sign on intelligent life form here. and that’s because i don’t consider myself as personifying the definition of that word.


2nd shift. Clocked in at 19.45.

{location log}

Ferris Wheel #3, FantasyLand, Gloria de Dapitan.
Zamboanga del Norte

{Identity Card}

Security Guard #1


I reckon that i am not a very smart man, but if my Mother were to tell you, only stupid and arrogant people will assume that they know about everything. That don’t matter now much ain’t it, if my Ma knew any better she wouldn’t ‘ave let me waste my life with deadbeat jobs and no future to look forward to.

Since round the summer of ’09 i started working here, after getting laid off from being a bagger at this grocery store in town. Wasn’t really easy to get a job like this they say, but i gots an uncle who works here and he just kind of gave me the pass so i didn’t have to bother with no training or some b*llshit seminar.

It ain’t that hard anyways, a guard would only know one or two things, and he does it so well it’s as natural as breathing: Walk or stand, not sit, not run. Just keep on walking and stand tall when you have to.


Used to work round here during the day, like a normal person. It was the time where you should be on a park, when it’s sunny and bright, full of kids with delight excitedly dragging their parents to some ride or off to see the horror house.

But it was noisier too and God knows there’s much more work to be done, like some thieving rascal snatching purses of some unsuspecting lady or yer regular troublemakers even just picking up a lot of the errant trash you’d see lying about, company policy, you see. If there’s trash, well it ain’t gunna pick itself up so just throw it in the can.

So it ain’t really a bad deal, me working the Nightshift. For one thing i reckon no one ever really robbed a carnival. I’d like to see some robber try to run off with a bumpcar, that’ll be the day. And most of the robbing nowadays happens on the down low- with all that 1% crap i hear all around in the radio, some hotshot banker or venture capitalist runnning off with people’s money, foreclosing homes or putting up the shutters on someone’s honest business.


I patrol the park’s perimeter about 5 times a whole night, takes me bout about an hour and a half to walk the entire grounds and then i get kind of zoned out cause i’m just something mundane like walking putting on one foot over the other on familiar ground that i’ve memorized so much i can go over it even while blindfolded

Then i get to use what’s left of my noggin’ for some thinking, there’s really not much to do but shoot the shit in my head. Some nights i think i turned crazy, not bat-shit insane, or like that wop-eyed junkie you see on the street, or even the crackpot theorizing kinda crazy. But the kind of crazy that makes you think that there are better days up ahead and that life with all its shits and shingles is somewhere along the lines of good.

Boy, i really should air myself out during the day more before i start thinking too wildly.


I like to think that i’m a patient sort of guy. Had a girlfriend once, she was all kinds of awesome except that she wouldn’t be on time even if her life depended on it, so to kill the time waiting for her to show up i had to think up ways to entertain myself.

If we’d be meeting in a diner i’d get on this act of being all mysterious and then when some waitress comes along i’d ask her the date and when she answers i’ll gasp and say it’s 2011 already, are you sure? Then when she exasperatedly says yes again i nod my head and silently say i believe you. ‘Course i don’t do it when the waitress is pretty, she’ll most likely think i’m making a pathetic pass on her.

If we’d be meeting in the park and i’m too lazy to sketch or hunt down hobos for an interesting conversation i’ll just lie down on a bench and randomly cough. That stunt got me a few bucks one time, when some suit-wearing guy dropped a few on me while sitting down, wasn’t really sure how i’d feel after that, or if i’ll thank the guy or punch the hell outta him.

If we’d be meeting in a bookstore, where i used to work, she could be late for the whole day and i wouldn’t care. I’d just read and time’ll pass by so smoothly i don’t even notice that she’s finally there already.

Sometimes i wish that was the one part of my life i didn’t screw up so badly.


There was one time that i could remember, i was walking home from a shift that evening when i noticed something green on the pavement. I picked it up, and saw that it was a cellphone. The street was empty so i decided to hang back and check if someone would look, i read the messages to check how the owner was like.

Message 1:

[Dr. Wendz]
“Thank you for letting me Couchsurf Sir, it was fun. Regards to Bigbug”

Message 2:

“I’m as broke as an Irish potato farmer on the 5th plague of the decade, have to eat noodles for the rest of the trip but i can’t even pay for hot water. Oh by the way i’m typing this on the back of a motorcycle as rain pummels down on me.”

Suddenly a girl barely out of her teenage years came round looking for something on the ground, i hollered at her and said “Hey”, might’ve freaked her out for a minute there but then she came by near me and i gave her the phone. She was very relieved and i felt like a real kind guy after that.


Walking around with not much to do and i get real bored then i try to pretend that i’m in some shoot-’em-up kinda movie, where you just gun down the bad guys. I like to think that at night Gloria de Dapitan houses Zombies and i’m the bad-ass who goes all out with the guns and headshots all those basterds.

I really like that idea, cause zombies don’t care who you are, whether you’ve got your MBA from some fancy university or if you’re wearing some tie that costs more than a frigging car. They just sort of fumble around as this magnanimous crowd and unmindful of any social strata. And i really wouldn’t like to kill ’em if they weren’t after my brains.

I’ve an ex colleague who worked his arse off doing double shifts for 9 years saving up for a motorcycle. He wanted to go places he said, was his dream to be in Cebu and be a photographer. Never heard from him again but Christ knows i wish the guy well.

I wonder when my time to leave will come, to walk away from this place and never come back, but that’s a crazy man’s dream, everyone knows if you keep walking on the same direction for years, eventually you’ll circle the globe and come back to the same place you’ve started from. Full circle and that’s how it goes for all things i guess.


Written from the perspective of the guy who returned my phone to me while lost and walking around famished in Dapitan. :)

I named him W. or Walter, if you hate codenames. The guy with the motorcycle is my habal-habal driver who took me from walking round Rizal Shrine to Dakak. He dreamt of being a photographer in Cebu.

Sometimes walks are not measured in miles, kilometers, or mASL.
Maybe it’s a new perspective when walking in someone else’s shoes for a bit and looking at the view by the height of their heel. :D


Hello, this is Lauren of EpicPotato and this is my entry to the
24th PTB Blog Carnival, Hosted by Glenn Martinez: The Traveler on Foot
with the theme: “Most Memorable Walking Tour”