The Weatherman

My father has only one use for the internet- to go to the official website of PAG-ASA (Philippine Atmospheric, Geophysical, and Astronomical Services Administration) to check the latest weather update and track the paths of the many typhoons and depressions that hit the country. He particularly likes those satellite photos of storms and low pressure areas. He keeps track of the travel schedule of the people around him (more often than not, he is on to my travel schedule) and he uses the information from the website to give people a go-ahead signal. He does not just check the internet, my sister said, he calls the PAG-ASA weather hotline too, to double-check.

The night before my flight back to Manila, Typhoon Dante was in the country. I saw him watching the news and was particularly worried he would not allow me to take the morning flight. He has done that before, he jumped the gun on the airlines and did not allow my grandma to fly because there was a typhoon on its route from China and when the typhoon detoured I had to shoulder the no show fees and fare difference. Every time we scheduled him for a trip to Manila or anywhere that involved him taking airplanes, I would pray for good weather, no, the best weather, and I would always be one step short of offering eggs to Sta. Clara (the Saint for sunshiny days, I think). I would tell him, you know, the airlines would not be allowed to fly if the conditions are really bad. Sometimes, my argument would be, oh, the planes usually fly over the storm clouds. That last one does not always work as I hope it would.

The morning of my departure I sensed that he was more nervous than usual. He asked me to check the weather on the internet and I pretended not to hear him. When he insisted, I said the internet was not working and I would miss my flight if we did not leave that very minute. What compounded his discomfort was his distrust for the airline I was taking that morning. It is new, or at least new to our area, and I kind of understand why he would not have confidence in an airline that sounds like a tetra-pack juice drink. He talked about maintenance, I told him airline maintenance is highly regulated and it would be standard for all airlines, regardless of its tutti-frutti-sounding name. I thought they had already left when I finished checking-in but my mom told me they waited for the plane to arrive so he could see for himself if the plane was big enough. He was not impressed. He called me and told me not to take that airline again.

It has become an SOP for me to call my father once my plane lands, and my standard line has always been “the flight was so smooth.” Technically, I am not lying because I am usually dead to the world during plane rides that the worst air pockets won’t affect me one bit.

My father’s obsession for the weather is only one of the many things he worries about nowadays. His anxiety level increases when he has to travel. I was not like this before, he would always tell me, especially when his anxiety was at its worst. When I came back from Zamboanga, he cornered me just to tell me the stories about his own travels to that island as an internal company auditor more than 30 years ago, of the times when he ate monkey brains, or his island hopping experiences, the time when he had to be sneaked off the island because of the anomalies he found in one warehouse. He also told me of his time in another town, when he had to make his way five floors down through rubble during an earthquake (that’s why he asks me to make sure I know where the hotel fire exits are). He was also supposed to be on a flight that crashed. I was not always afraid of travel; I had many adventures, too. I know, I know, no need for apologies.

Mastering your fear, someone said, is the key. But for my father, his concept of mastering the fear is to check the weather, so he will know what he needs to fear, and when. But how do you control the weather, Mr. Weatherman?