It started with a flurry of activity in the MU email group that crescendoed in December 2008. Checks for Pipo’s ΜΣΦ 1986 coffee table book and for Jotek’s ΜΣΦ 1998 souvenir program reached Manny Dalope ΜΣΦ 1970 and Dennis Carbonell ΜΣΦ 1972B on a daily basis. One of several checks mailed to me to give to Jotek in Manila, arrived in Sacramento the day of my flight from San Francisco to Manila, a testament to our optimism and our med-school-evolved ability to cram for an exam at the last minute.

The author, Dr. Gene Amparo ΜΣΦ 1972B (second from right) with his batchmates from Mu Sigma Phi Batch 1972.

The drinking and toasting to the glory of the Mu Sigma Phi started in a bar at the San Francisco International Airport, while Cris Ylanan ΜΣΦ 1990, Rene Relos ΜΣΦ 1990 and I waited for our flight to board. Not long after we were airborne on Philippine Airlines (PAL), we were reminded that our beloved home country, the Philippines, is euphemistically known as a developing nation, a kinder term than third world nation. My reading light and my headset were nonfunctioning. When I finally got the stewardess’ attention, she decided I was a moron and reached for the control panel in my armrest to show me the switch for the light and the receptacle to plug in the headset, only to find an empty cavity where the control panel had once been. Duct tape residue indicated this was a chronic condition, but she promised to report it, as if it came as a surprise. Fortunately, I had movies in my iPod Nano, downloaded from iTunes. Several rows behind me, Rene Relos had an extant control panel but his light and headset failed to function, and there were no empty seats to transfer to, so he had to lip read the in-flight video in the dark for fifteen hours. We later found out that PAL had purchased the aircraft second-hand from Kuwait Airways, which explained the signs in Arabic. Welcome to the Philippines.

If you had only five weekdays in Manila, all the time you could get off from California’s Kaiser Permanente hospitals, as was the case with Cris and Rene, nothing short of the aircraft crashing into the Pacific Ocean during the 7000-mile flight could dampen your spirits, because you were coming home to your med school fraternity’s 75th anniversary celebration. We landed in Manila shortly after 5 am; checked into the Tropicana Hotel; took pictures from our balcony with Rizal’s statue of The Triumph of Science over Death and our med school in the background; and ordered tapsilog for breakfast at the Orchid. Then we bought SIMs and airtime (loads), available literally anywhere in the Philippines and took a crash course in text messaging from a local.

The non-smoking room at the Orchid reeked of cigarette smoke, we drank only bottled water and each of us had a small bottle of hand sanitizer. Spend a few years in the USA and you turn into a pussy. Come home to the Philippines and you turn into a pussy hound, because you are suddenly surrounded by beautiful women. In the hunt, some were more successful than others. In the storytelling, each was more successful than everyone else.

When fraternity brothers spanning 75 years decide to come home and celebrate, they become an unstoppable force. Despite earlier fears of scheduling, funding and attendance problems, the week of celebration proceeded flawlessly and brilliantly, including the golf tournament, which survived premature cancellation, a testimony to the talent and effort of our younger Brods in Manila. Those practicing abroad were fairly well represented, considering the collapse of the U.S. economy and its ripple effect throughout the world. Fraternity brothers ate, drank, golfed, danced, ran, recalled myths and legends of times past, and created new myths and legends for times to come.

It’s good to be a Mu. It’s good to come home.


Appendix:

How to spot a Mu visiting from the U.S:

1. He has a bottle of hand sanitizer in his pocket.
2. He tries to pay a sidewalk vendor with a credit card.
3. It takes him forever to text message on his cell phone.
4. He tries to mark, pick up and clean his golf ball instead of letting the caddy do it.
5. He slops on sunscreen instead of using a golf umbrella on a sunny day.
6. He marvels at stopping for a sit-down, served meal after four holes of golf.
7. His eyes tear up from cigarette smoke and car exhaust.
8. He is baffled by the fact that his carry-on luggage is inspected three times prior to boarding and still manages to get through with a bottle of water in his backpack.
9. He finds it extraordinary to see armed, uniformed security guards everywhere, even in a noodle restaurant.
10. Having to leave Manila to go back to the U.S. saddens him.