- I -
Once upon a time, a father of 3 named Pepito will bring home a can of Swift frankfurters that came from a town called Bambang.
Now those things during that time were as rare as the apples and Curly Tops that seem to appear only at Christmas.
Pepito's wife will cook the franks until well done as their children loved stripping the crisp skin first before slowly licking and munching the bare goodness with blow job adoration.
The children have all the franks while their parents make do with the brine poured over piping hot rice.
Those Swift franks were gifts from Lola Senang, who minded Auntie Angeling's store, and who would swipe a can or 2 for her youngest son, who would bring the loot back in Almaguer tucked somewhere in the recesses of his pants.
- II -
Not so long ago, Pepito's oldest son named Shubert hitched a ride to Manila with $3,350 nervously tucked in the recesses of his pants.
He therefore missed Jessica Sanchez's number in America Idol's Top 4 elimination and decided to catch the replay in Manila while killing time for his flight to Hong Kong.
There were sausages in PAL's Mabuhay Lounge and better food (than economy) in first class but none tasted as good as the stolen crisped fried Swift franks of yore.
And the noodles of HKIA were as bland as the feeling of having to unlock the mysteries of a strange borrowed camera with a scandalously long retracting lens.
But then Frankfurt came amid the turbulence and the memories of those Swift frankfurters rushed in like the nicotine kick of a cigarette puffed after several months of abstinence.
- III -
Perhaps the rush of memories came in so strong as to confuse Shubert's baggage if it be picked at carousel no. 13 in Hall B or at the air-rail pick up point.
Still, the air smelled strongly of the stolen Swift frankfurters as the train pulled out of Frankfurt to Cologne for the the changing of the trains to Bonn.
Bonn was as Bonn as it was almost a year ago.
And the last whiffs of the stolen Swift franks and the difficulties of baggage retrieval in Frankfurt disappeared as the taxi pulled at Hotel zum Adler along 60 Koblenzerstrasse.
He was in the familiar environs of Bad Godesberg which somewhat guaranteed that the smell of frankfurters will come back certainly at any day...