"A helicopter?" Migs repeated, his voice hitting a pitch usually reserved for startled parakeets. "You want to charter a helicopter? To land on Gateway Mall? Jun-Jun, that's not an airport helipad, it's a shopping mall!"
"Exactly! Convenient, right?" Jun-Jun was already scrolling through his phone, apparently having found the website for 'Manila Skies Executive Charters'. "Think about it, Migs. No traffic on the way home. Quick, efficient, stylish." He tapped the screen. "Ah, they have a VIP AgustaWestland available. Perfect."
"Stylish? Jun-Jun, landing a helicopter on a mall roof isn't stylish, it's a public disturbance waiting to happen! You need permits, flight plans, coordination with mall security, CAAP approval... it probably takes weeks!" Migs protested, ticking off points on his fingers.
"Weeks?" Jun-Jun scoffed. "Nonsense. That's what 'expedite fees' are for." He'd already hit the 'call' button. He put the phone to his ear, humming cheerfully while Migs looked on, aghast. Aling Nena and her staff were discreetly cleaning tables nearby, pretending not to listen but clearly fascinated. A few remaining customers lingered, watching the free entertainment.
"Yes, hello?" Jun-Jun spoke into the phone. "Manila Skies? Juancho Dela Cruz here. I'd like to charter your AgustaWestland... yes, the VIP one... for immediate pickup. Location: Cubao. Specifically, the roof of the Gateway Mall... Hello? Hello?" He frowned at the phone. "Odd, they hung up."
He shrugged and redialed. "Must have been a bad connection."
Migs buried his face in his hands. "They didn't hang up because of a bad connection, Jun-Jun! They hung up because you asked them to land illegally on a shopping mall!"
"Perhaps I wasn't clear enough about the financial incentives," Jun-Jun mused. The call connected again. "Yes, hello? Juancho Dela Cruz again. Regarding the Gateway Mall landing... look, I understand there might be regulations, permits, whatnot. Let's streamline this. How much would it cost to get all necessary clearances, permissions, and pay off whoever needs paying off for a landing within the next hour? Let's start the bidding at... twenty million pesos? Plus the charter fee, obviously."
There was a sputtering sound on the other end of the line, followed by a nervous cough. "Sir... Mr. Dela Cruz... Twenty million pesos? Sir, it doesn't work that way. There are safety protocols... structural assessments... air traffic control coordination... It's simply not possible on such short notice, regardless of the amount offered." The voice sounded genuinely apologetic but firm. "We cannot legally or safely land on Gateway Mall today."
Jun-Jun sighed dramatically. "No appreciation for creative logistics anywhere today." He ended the call. "Okay, Migs, you were right. Helicopter is a no-go. Shame. Would have been a nice view."
Migs looked visibly relieved, though still wary. "Okay. Progress. So... Plan B? And please, let Plan B involve four wheels touching the ground in a legally registered vehicle."
Jun-Jun tapped his chin, surveying the bustling Cubao streetscape. "Right. Wheels on the ground. Legal registration." He glanced back towards the car wash where the party bus sat, likely gleaming under Leo the attendant's bewildered care. "Retrieving the party bus seems... complicated right now. And probably still on Captain Reyes's BOLO list."
"You think?" Migs deadpanned.
"Okay, new vehicle it is!" Jun-Jun declared. He stood up, stretching. "What looks good around here?" His eyes scanned the traffic, the parked cars... landing on a small, slightly dusty car dealership across the street specializing in secondhand imports. "Ooh, they have a vintage Mini Cooper! Always wanted one of those!"
"Jun-Jun, no!" Migs grabbed his arm. "You can't just buy another car! Especially not a vintage one that will probably break down before we get to EDSA! We just need a ride home!"
"But it's cute!" Jun-Jun protested, momentarily distracted by the Mini.
"Think of the paperwork!" Migs pleaded, hitting Jun-Jun where he knew it might hurt – inconvenience. "Deed of sale, registration transfer... it'll take hours! Aling Nena is closing soon!"
Jun-Jun deflated slightly. "Right. Paperwork. Ugh." He looked around again, his gaze falling on the queue of white taxis waiting patiently at a nearby designated rank. An idea, less extravagant but still distinctly Jun-Jun, formed.
He walked purposefully towards the taxi rank, Migs trailing nervously behind him. The first driver in the queue, reading a newspaper, looked up expectantly as Jun-Jun approached his window.
"Good evening, Manong!" Jun-Jun beamed. "Quick question: Are you free?"
The driver nodded. "Opo, sir. Saan po sila?" (Yes, sir. Where are you going?)
"Excellent!" Jun-Jun said. "And how about your colleagues?" He gestured down the line of about ten waiting taxis. "Are they all free too?"
The driver looked confused. "Siguro po, sir. Waiting for passengers." (Probably, sir.)
"Fantastic!" Jun-Jun reached into his backpack – the seemingly bottomless source of all solutions – and pulled out a truly enormous brick of cash. It looked like it contained several hundred thousand pesos, possibly more. "Here's the deal. I need a ride home," he pointed vaguely southwards, "and I want all of you to take me."
The lead driver stared at the brick of cash, then down the line of taxis, then back at Jun-Jun. "Lahat... kami, sir? Sampung taxi... para sa inyo lang?" (All... of us, sir? Ten taxis... just for you?)
"Yup!" Jun-Jun confirmed. "It's for... uh... security! Yes, a security convoy! Very important. I'll ride with you," he indicated the lead driver, "and my friend," he pointed at Migs, who looked like he wanted to evaporate, "will ride in the taxi right behind us. The rest just follow closely! Like a presidential motorcade, but with less sirens and more... taxi-ness."
He peeled off a thick chunk from the brick – maybe P100,000 – and handed it to the lead driver. "That's for you and your friend behind me. Now," he held up the rest of the brick, "this is for the other eight drivers! Divide it equally amongst yourselves! Just follow us all the way to my drop-off point. Deal?"
The lead driver looked at the cash in his hand, then at the massive brick Jun-Jun was holding out to the other drivers, who were now leaning out of their windows, listening with rapt attention. The potential payout was astronomical compared to a regular evening's fares.
He gulped. "Saan po ba drop-off niyo, sir?" (Where exactly is your drop-off, sir?)
"Makati!" Jun-Jun declared cheerfully. "Nice, leisurely drive. No need to rush!"
The driver hesitated for only a second, then broke into a wide grin. He turned and yelled down the line to his colleagues, "Oy! Makati convoy! Bayad na! Tara!" (Hey! Makati convoy! Already paid for! Let's go!)
A cheer went up from the taxi rank. Drivers quickly started their engines, pocketing their share of the massive tip Jun-Jun distributed. Migs sighed, defeated but also slightly impressed by the sheer absurdity Jun-Jun could conjure. At least it wasn't a helicopter.
Jun-Jun slid into the back of the lead taxi. Migs reluctantly got into the one behind it. With a final wave to the bewildered onlookers outside Aling Nena's (and a mental note to send someone for the party bus tomorrow, or maybe buy the car wash remotely), Jun-Jun settled back in his seat.
"See, Migs?" he called out the window as the ten-taxi convoy began pulling out into Cubao traffic, creating its own minor spectacle. "Wheels on the ground! Legal vehicles! Almost normal!"
Migs just shook his head, watching the lights of Cubao recede as their bizarre, excessively large taxi motorcade headed towards home. The halo-halo mission was complete. Now began the slightly less chaotic, but likely still eventful, journey back.