Before I knew Greg was ill I had planned on visiting Alley Cats on Tuesday afternoon to throw darts and hand out pasalubong (souvenirs) from my trip to Korea. Greg would normally be there for the tourney as well, but of course this time his only presence was in the form of a donation box to help fund his funeral expenses. It did put a damper on my mood and I was too late to play (having made a second trip to the hospital) so I just sat and watched the competition. Well, sat and drank beer while I watched that is.

So, sitting at the table next to me was Greg’s buddy Patrick. We did our usual small talk and I couldn’t help but wonder to myself why I hadn’t seen him at the hospital. He was certainly much closer to Greg than I was. But not my business and no big deal to me. When the tourney was completed I bought all the girls working a round of drinks. I was having my own private wake for Greg in a way I thought he might appreciate. It also meant I had five gals sitting with me at my table which facilitated handing out the pasabulong (mostly trinkets like key chains and pens).

Marissa had also gone to the hospital and was actually with Irene (Greg’s girlfriend) when the doctor announced that Greg was dead. It was good that she was there to provide some comfort. Anyway, Irene apparently did her goodbyes, hugging and kissing the corpse. And in something that I assume is a Filipino thing, posing for pictures with the body. Me, I don’t even like to attend funerals. My preference is to remember the living person, not viewing the remains.

So Marissa had joined us at my table and was speaking in Tagalog with the girls. And then she started showing them pictures of the dead Greg. I didn’t want to see that so I turned my head. Patrick did see and he went nuts. Started shouting that’s sick, who does that, that’s fucked up, and he kept at for a good long time. I finally turned to him and said “I don’t like it either, but it’s a Filipino thing, so just don’t look”. Nope, he kept right on shouting and making disparaging remarks about Marissa for having the audacity to photograph Greg (at the girlfriends insistence). I’d finally had enough and told Patrick to shut the fuck up. If you don’t like Filipino ways, go somewhere else. That was enough to get him to direct his ire at me, which is fine.

Now Patrick is a useless drunk. He comes to Alley Cats everyday in the early afternoon and drinks until he can barely walk. I don’t give a shit about that, he’s just another pathetic loser in my book. I mean, the guy is probably close to my age and has a young Filipina wife and a two year old child. Again, to each his own but who knowingly fathers a child at that age? And if it was an accident, who doesn’t know better at that age? Regardless, given his lifestyle choices it is very doubtful Patrick will live long enough to see the child reach double digits in age. About all I can say on his behalf is that he did at least make sure his kid attained U.S. citizenship.

Another thing I dislike about Patrick is that he is a chickenshit coward. There’s a guy named Rudy who is in his late seventies and his girlfriend is the sister of Patrick’s wife. Now, I don’t know the story, but for whatever reason Patrick doesn’t like Rudy at all. On the occasions when Rudy is at Alley Cats for darts, Patrick taunts him and mocks him. Rudy does his best to ignore it but it is really a disgusting behavior to witness. I of course mind my own business and never say anything, but as I mentioned, it is just a chickenshit thing to do.

So, Patrick is all up in my face. I stand up and tell him “I’m not Rudy, asshole. If you want to fuck with me, bring it on! He started backing away and I’m all “come on motherfucker, let’s see how tough you really are”. About this time the girls at my table grabbed me and pulled me away. Punk ass Patrick was backing away towards the door. Finally the girls hustled me off to the other side of the bar and admonished me “you are better than him. Don’t lower yourself to his level”. I nodded and calmed myself down.

I think they were all surprised. I very rarely get that out of control upset. I can probably attribute my behavior to being a bit emotional over Greg’s death and not willing to let a lowlife like Patrick talk down to me or my friends. That and the beers I had consumed. Regardless, I sincerely doubt that he’ll make the mistake of challenging me again. The girls were right though. I am better than him and he’s not worth the trouble.

To reiterate, I too think it is fucked up to photograph the dead. I wouldn’t do it. And I might say to someone who does it “I think that’s fucked up”. But I wouldn’t go on and on about it nor would I insult that person in a personal manner. But for all his so-called outrage and offense, I can only say that Patrick didn’t care enough to visit his friend while he was actually still alive in the hospital. So fuck him.

I bought the girls another round of drinks and then I ordered us up some food (chicken wings, chicken fingers, shanghai lumpia, and of course, rice) from Sit-n-Bull’s delivery service). After we all ate till we were full I ordered a final round of drinks and my personal wake concluded without further incident.

Interestingly, this photo from one year ago popped up this morning in the Facebook memories feature:

Anyway, that was yesterday. This afternoon I’m heading down to Angeles City for the night. Two Barretto bars are competing in a dance competition there and I’m going cheer for my hometown teams. Probably just as well that I get out of town for a few hours and get my head back on straight.

Peace out!

UPDATE: My oh my, I see I used the “Aftermath” title once before. On October 31, 2017. The aftermath in that post was the carnage that resulted from Loraine fucking me over. Today’s aftermath is much, much easier to deal with, that’s for sure.

It was also great to read Kevin’s supportive comment again and remembering the Hindu concept of samsara he explained. As strange as it may seem, I do believe I am making progress. Perhaps in a two steps forward, one step back kind of way, but progress regardless.