Just as I was passing through boarding gate security, Cebu Pacific was announcing the cancellation of my flight. Every passenger of the 12:35 PM flight was in distress. It was New Year’s Day, a Sunday; many Filipino workers from the regions were desperate to return to imperialist Manila, and report for duty the next day, Monday. Some were Overseas Filipino Workers who needed to catch their connecting flights back to the Middle East, the West Coast, and Europe.
I too was in panic. I had a January 4 flight bound for Hawai’i to catch. I was to present my undergraduate thesis in an international conference and the National Commission for Culture and the Arts had already secured my flight expenses. I could not afford to miss that flight. It might have led to complications with reimbursement, and I might have needed to shoulder my rebooking. I was fresh out of college and had meager savings. I needed to be in Manila at least a day before January 4 to repack and reconsolidate my luggage.
Fellow passengers quickly rallied to the Cebu Pacific boarding counter to inquire about options. I was able to squeeze myself to the front and converse with the Cebu Pacific staff.
“Boss, ano’t amon options?” I asked.
“You could refund or rebook your flights,” the staff said sternly.
“Diin?”, where, I asked.
“Online.”
“Don’t you have a ticketing office at the airport?” a passenger from the back asked.
“Well, sometimes it’s not operational.”
“So we can only rebook online?” I demanded.
“Yes.”
“What about those with no access to internet or a smart phone? What about our checked-in luggage?”
“You can reclaim them at the check-in counter.”
“And when is the next available flight?”
“I’m not sure, sir; better check online.”
In essence, bahala na kamo. We were left to fend for ourselves. Cebu Pacific staff were too undermanned to assist their passengers. I decided to rush to the check-in counter to reclaim my bag. Whatever happens, I had my stuff secured — I thought.
Jana, a dear friend from high school who was now a law student at the University of the Philippines – Diliman, was coincidentally in the same canceled flight as I. She was also reclaiming her luggage. I hurried to her to cut a few people in line. No airport staff nor Cebu Pacific staff was in sight of the check-in counter queueing area. Passengers who just arrived at the airport to check-in their luggage and passengers who wanted to reclaim their luggage, like Jana and I, got mixed up in the same line.
“Us, Leyte High kids, could do a better job managing these lines,” I told Jana in frustration.
“What do you expect? They don’t even have a functioning ticketing office at the airport,” she replied.
Jana was able to handover our boarding passes to the check-in counter even when a few people were still in front of us. While waiting for our bags, Jana phoned her dad to pick her up at the airport. I checked online if rebooking was already available only to find out there were two seats left on the 2:05 PM Cebu Pacific flight bound for Manila. I immediately rebooked my flight, hoping, by some miracle, I could fly out of Tacloban that day.
“There’s no AirAsia flights available ‘til Jan 3. Philippine Airlines has few seats left for tomorrow, but they cost at least ten thousand,” Jana said, scrolling through her phone.
“What’s your plan?” I asked.
“I don’t know. I’ll figure it out when I get home. I still need to sort some stuff out, some of my law books are supposed to be delivered to my place in Manila today. I don’t know how that’ll pan out yet.”
“I just rebooked my flight to 2:05. I think there’s still one seat left,” I informed her.
“Well, hope that’ll push through. We’re the second flight that got cancelled today.”
The check-in counter found Jana’s luggage first. They were still relocating mine. Because her dad was already waiting for her outside, she went ahead. I talked with the check-in counter staff and explained that I had already rebooked a flight later that afternoon. They explained that there was a power outage at Ninoy Aquino International Airport (NAIA) which resulted to the loss of radio and radar communications. Airplanes could not communicate with the newly operational Air Traffic Management Center (ATMC) of the Civil Aviation Authority of the Philippines (CAAP).
“Any news when it will be operational?” I asked.
“We can’t really say. Only NAIA would know. There isn’t any news update either,” the Cebu pacific personnel replied.
“What about flights from Cebu to Manila?” I inquired, already considering taking a boat from Ormoc to Cebu, then flying from Cebu to Manila.
“That won’t work either ‘cos ATMC isn’t operational, sir,” he said. “Unless NAIA fixes communications, there won’t be any planes in our airspace.”
Apparently, control and monitoring of aircrafts within the Philippine airspace are centralized through ATMC. It works as the command center— the only authority that can give air clearance. Without it, no aircraft, domestic or international, can fly within the Philippine airspace. Without it, the Philippine airspace became a vacuum, a mere empty space in the sky. Without it, passengers like me were stranded.
It was already 1:45 PM. The chances of my rebooked flight to push through were getting slimmer and slimmer. If it got cancelled, which was highly likely at this point, I would become a chance passenger. Cebu Pacific, Philippine Airlines, and AirAsia flights were already fully booked until January 3. I had no other choice but to take the 24-hour long bus-ride to Manila.
I rang up my close friend Jhon Rey who lived near the Tacloban New Bus Terminal. I asked him to check out buses that were bound for either Pasay or Cubao, when the next available bus would leave, how much was the ticket, and when would I arrive in Manila.
While waiting for his feedback, I reclaimed my luggage, and rode the San Jose jeep. It was almost 3:00 PM and I had not yet eaten lunch. Famished, I decided to go to our ancestral home in Algo which was near the airport. Tatits Joji, my aunt, already knew of the NAIA crisis and told me she would have lunch prepared for me. Nanay would also be there, ready with the cash I needed to borrow. Unfortunately, Cebu Pacific could not immediately reimburse my rebooked flight. They needed at least two weeks to process.
I find it ludicrous how a power outage in one airport in the Philippines affects the whole airspace navigation system of the country and Southeast Asia. It’s even ironic how Transportation Secretary Jamie Bautista describes the power source of ATMC. During a press conference, he explained how the power supply was “uninterrupted”. How can he say that it’s “uninterrupted” when there was already a power outage?
Why has everything, even communications, centralized in imperialist Manila? Flying, just like any other mode of transportation has become a basic necessity for Filipinos, especially for the middle-class. The Philippines is after all, an archipelago. Why in the world would we solely depend air communications with NAIA?
While government bureaucracy stalls the public with its excuses, affected passengers like myself were left to figure things out for ourselves. There was no assurance that we could fly out that day. There was also no government aid that came. Nothing to compensate for the problem nor any assistance from airport and airline staff.
At Algo, Jhon Rey rang me back. Apparently, all the other desperate passengers from the airport also went to the New Bus Terminal to book buses. The Pasay-bound buses were already booked for the day and there were only three slots left on the 10:00 PM bus bound for Cubao, the last bus, my last hope! They were, as Jhon Rey reiterated, three slots, not seats. This meant I would sit on a small stool placed in the middle of the aisle. I would need to bear the aches on my ass and my back throughout the 24-hour bus ride. Well, what could I do? It was my only option by then.
Jhon Rey tried his best to negotiate a cheaper price, arguing I had to sit on a small stool instead of a proper seat. The conductors wouldn’t budge. They knew, passengers were desperate. This was my last and only hope. What could I do? And so, I asked Jhon Rey to secure my slot and request for a receipt or some proof of payment.
I slept off the rest of the afternoon at Algo and waited for my cousin Jerome to take me to the New Bus Terminal. It started to rain at around 6:00 PM. Nanay lighted a candle on the altar and prayed that I would cross San Bernardino Strait safely. She said, she also took the bus once when she was young. She visited my Lolo Abba, her father at the Sorsogon Government Service Insurance System Office. Lola Carol, her mother, had died, and she wanted to check up on Lolo. The rain had turned into drizzle when Jerome arrived. I asked him to drive to our house first so we could drop off Nanay. I accompanied my mom to the door of our house before leaving. I hugged her tight, kissed her on the forehead, and drove off with Jerome.
It is in times like this when I am most grateful for family. Tatits Joji is always welcoming at Algo. Nanay, even when funds seem tight, always makes a way to lend me some cash. Jerome, who had probably scheduled something on New Year’s Day decided to drive me to the bus station. Without the Dorados, I would not be able to cope nor push through with my trip.
At around 9:57 PM, my bus had arrived. I waited for my luggage to be loaded and then proceeded to the center aisle. The conductor asked us stool-sitters to pass on the stool to the person behind us. Once settled, our bus proceeded.
As I figured out what position would be least uncomfortable, I looked outside and saw the lighted San Juanico Bridge. President Bongbong Marcos led its lighting on October 19, 2022, just two months before the NAIA crisis. Where was he when NAIA lost power? As we passed through the 80-million-peso funded lights of San Juanico, I looked around the bus and noticed how exhausted all the passengers were. They too, came from the airport and needed to return to Manila. I looked around and wondered—how can our country afford an 80 million-peso lighting of a bridge and not update the communications equipment for our airspace, a truly necessity for an archipelagic country?
It has been more than three months since the New Year NAIA fiasco. Cebu Pacific had already reimbursed my rebooked flight. My presentation in Hawai’i went great. I had already met my mom again. Yet until today, no one is held accountable for the 65,000 lives affected by the 10-hour ATMC power shutdown. Why? My Road to the Liberal Party after Fighting Martial Law
