My son attended his high school JS Prom during the weekend.
Weeks before, he was busy practicing with his Fender because he said they were going to play a bunch of songs. So you got a band put together now, I asked? Yeah, he said nonchalantly, adding that they had a couple of girls to do the vocals. Later, I found out that his song list had dwindled from ten to six. Why, I asked out of curiosity. Well, he said, they had no time to practise together and one member backed out. Plus they had problems with their drummer since he wasn’t inclined to bring his drum set to the venue. So what kind of rock band is that without a drummer? That’s like having salad without dressing, I commented. He wasn’t amused, thinking that rock and salad shouldn’t be mixed even metaphorically. Nevertheless, he insisted that they were still going to play even though they were an all-acoustic band now.
All dressed up to go out with the girls
A week to go, he cajoled me to do the acoustic version of “Narda” while he did the lead. Not knowing the song and out of practce, I played very badly and I could see his frustration. The next day, he brought his two guitars to school. One acoustic, the other, electric. Hey, I asked over breakfast, what’s the deal? He said they had a last shot at a practise session after class. What happened to the unplugged, acoustic group now? They would try to have a mixed bag of songs, he said. Even without a drummer and a bassist. What was this – the local version of the Gypsy Kings? Nevermind, at least they still had their vocalist, he shot back. That’s the spirit, I thought – never say die!
And so last Thursday evening with his electric guitar and amplifier stashed inside the car, we headed for the Hilton by the sea where their party was going to be held. Smartly dressed in my Ungaro suit (we have the same size though he’s taller than me) with matching Adolfo Dominguez tie, shod in Italian leather shoes and reeking with Givenchy, he looked like a Wall Street businessman.
A couple of minutes earlier at home, we were having an argument because he wanted to wear his pants low, didn’t want to put on a belt and chose his old school loafers. "Ano ka ba naman James, pupunta ka ba sa isang formal occasion o a-attend ka lang ng hip-hop party," I admonished. If your Mama was here, I’m sure you wouldn’t be arguing with her (unfortunately, Gladys was in Manila). He grumbled that all the stuff I wanted him to wear would get in the way of his guitar-playing. Fine, I said, then just wear jeans and a tee-shirt and get a taxi for yourself ‘cause I wouldn’t be driving you there. He backed down. Now I wondered - while looking at him through the rearview mirror - whether this was the same boy whom I used to cuddle and play silly pranks with years ago. My, how he had grown!
Buddies in school and out: James, Emmanuel and Kristian The ballroom was located separately from the main hotel and had its own spacious parking. It was pretty well-designed with a bright carpet and could accommodate easily 500 pax. Most of the students were already there and I could barely recognize them for they were all trussed up in their finest. The guys were dressed to the nines in their smart suits and the girls were like models in their beautiful gowns. I perfectly looked like the driver and gofer carrying the stuff behind my son to the sound booth beside the stage. Unlike the typical Prom Night in the Philippines where you usually had to bring your own partner, here, it was just the whole class of juniors and seniors enjoying the night together. I tarried awhile, taking photos until my son reminded me that I had to leave since I didn’t pay the fee that parents who wanted to attend the event were supposed to shell out. I found the 15 Dinars ($50/-) too steep even if it included the buffet. So I left as they closed the doors. The grown-up Junior Class I fetched him close to midnight and I knew he had a great time judging from his skewed tie and perspiring countenance. So how’d it go, I asked. Fine, he said. Did they pull off the acoustic set? Yeah, he answered, and next year as Seniors he said they were going to have a real band. But none of your pals play the drums since your supposed drummer is graduating this year, I insisted. Oh, they still had one full year to learn. And how about getting him a drum kit? Well, I could be your drummer, I volunteered. He made a face as we drove out of the sprawling grounds in the cool midnight breeze. 
