“Finally, my friends, we got this right.
We put a great man in Malacañang.”

And those who say that this is a mistake are blinded by their arrogance.


It was supposed to just be a simple meet and greet at 8:30pm. My expectations were real simple. We would line up in a crowd of 500, shake his hand and have a group photo. That was it.

Then I thought my little band of renegade loons would be ushered out of the gates of Malacañang, all flushed and giggly. Then we’d be on our merry way to some bar where we could rehash in slow mo the magical moment we shook his hand and how he smiled at us and said, “Hello ma’am.”

Instead we were told we would be served dinner after meeting the president. And then we were ushered into a hushed, stately room with 7 elegantly upholstered seats on each side with each of our names on a name tag so we knew where to sit and one regal chair for Da Man up front.


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