He couldn’t leave the hotel. The SUV was right there at the front parking lot, with its Filipino driver and a couple of “handlers” waiting to take him to the Ninoy Aquino International Airport at 6:30 a.m. Please stay in your room once you check in, John Gulliver had said.
What the hell got them all so concerned? The clout of one young congressman? Unbelievable.
He rang up Jim Turino. It took some time, the midgets at Hobbit House must’ve minced their steps upon hearing his near-desperate plea. Or the man had difficulty hauling himself up from his whisky table. But Jim finally came coughing on the phone.
Hey, man, you back? Finally! Those Cebuanas sure put a spell on any fellow, right? What’s that? You’re flying off? Oh, man … Tomorrow? Want a beer? Some whisky? Come over. One for the r
