For What It’s Worth

Of course I’d never want to be part of any stampede but things happen. I don’t have every circumstance in my hands, even if it was my own life.
September 12, 2010 was one day in my life I might just never forget. It was the day of the Cheerdance Competition for the 73rd season of UAAP and I went to the Araneta Coliseum, where the event was held. There were lots of people then; I’ve been to crowded places before—I’m frequent in Divisoria. There were long lines everywhere; I’m used to long lines—I study in UP after all. But that Sunday was nothing ordinary. September 12, 2010 for me is a day remarkable.

It was around 10 o’clock in the morning when I got to Araneta Coliseum. I was told that the Cheerdance Competition starts at 12:00 so I had to be there early enough to secure an entrance ticket. I quickly fell in line, having noticed that the line was getting longer by the minute and the line was long enough to have some of us doubt if we’d even get in. I stood in line with a small breakfast 3 hours away and without an idea of how to get a good lunch.
The sun smiled very brightly in the sky and all I could do was smile back and hope I don’t get sunburned. I looked for ways to keep myself from getting bored. Fortunately I had two books with me and a writing assignment. I could not write standing up in the heat even if I wanted to and so I read. And read. And read. For some time I observed some people from a local TV network shoot—they shot just beside me; convenient. After a while I read again. And read. And thought. And read.
Two hours has passed when I learned that the competition will start at 2pm and that the ticket booth will not be opened until 1pm. I wanted to leave the line and grab some lunch at a fast food chain some meters away but I couldn’t. I was unaccompanied. I would have needed to get back in line if I left. So there I was: standing, hungry, reading, thinking, and shifting my weight from one side to the other to the center.
Some time before one o’clock some personnel from the Coliseum came by to “fix our lines.” What they did seemed stupid to me really. They made the people line up like the large intestine sitting under the belly. Like the large intestine, the head was way under while the rest of the trail winded towards the ribcage. This format was obviously a good way to prepare a riotous group of people disrespecting one another for entrance tickets. But the yellow shirted guys stayed for the next few minutes and observed the lines. For those next few minutes I was confident that everything will be just fine but the moment they left I was confident that trouble was ahead.
The clock struck one and everyone faced towards the ticket booth. The majority disrespected the line I believed to be existent. There was pushing and nagging and shouting and cheering. Everything was just a mess and I tried to keep myself under control. I’ll fall in line still I said to myself even if the people who were just in front of me just left, unmindful of the people lined behind them and are now lost, wondering who to follow. Things will eventually work out. I just had to keep my calm and think straight. I had to be there and I was not going to cheat, using a ticket I did not use in the first place.
The next thirty minutes was practically a stampede: a wave of sweating people in the afternoon’s heat pushing against each other, fighting and racing for tickets practically. The next thirty minutes was I becoming bitter against the people who were supposed to be behind me in line but are now cheering because the yellow-shirted personnel put them nearer the ticket booth. It was easy to cheat their way. Surely all of them thought of it as an advantage, and the advantage they took. The next thirty minutes found me saying the line “I hate stupid incompetent people” again and again in my head. The next thirty minutes found me thinking if this was even worth getting in—it was just another required task after all; but that was exactly it: I was required to be there inside that coliseum and witness the competition. For thirty minutes I struggled. For thirty minutes I prayed that I’ll get an SRO ticket. And after thirty minutes I eventually got what I asked for.
I quickly went inside the coliseum. The beating of the drums from inside told me that there was no time left to waste—even if it was lunch. I got in and found myself in yet another roomful of people. The people who were supposed to get in after me were already inside, having found themselves comfortable places where they could stand and watch. I was really tired (I mean, before falling in line at 10am, I was dancing back in Taft Avenue. And I had to reserve energy for I would be dancing again at 6pm.) and I could not bear the thought of standing up for another two hours—I just spent four hours doing just that. I was so grateful when I found an empty seat. I sat myself happily and watched the different groups perform their routines.
I stood up again only when it was time for the UP Pep Squad to hype the crowd. They were really fantastic. I did not have the cheers memorized but I cheered with the squad anyway. My favorite part of the routine was when they threw one girl member high up in the air—it was the highest among all throws in the whole competition—it was truly remarkable. The whole routine had a central theme consistent all throughout and it was really great.
The second time I stood up was during the awarding. The UP Pep Squad was announced champion for the season and I knew in my heart that it was worth it. Everything, all the sacrifices I made that day, had led to this. I cheered for my schoolmates. They won and it has been all worth it.