“What’s your area of interest?” I asked mildly.

“My thesis was on the relationship between the United States and the Philippines during the Batac era with a focus on martial law.” Laird let this sink in, then turned his heavy gaze on me. “Thank you for bringing me to this dinner. I need to meet people. It’s next to impossible to do anything in this town without an introduction.”

We fell into another silence.

“I was talking to a taxi driver,” he said finally. “And I asked him what he thought the major problem was in this country. I had assumed he would say corruption, but do you know what he said? Traffic.”

“I could see why a taxi driver would say that, or anyone, for that matter,” I replied stupidly. I felt that I was delivering someone else’s lines but couldn’t seem to stop. “Do you speak some Filipino?”

“You mean Tagalog.”

I had, of course.

“No. Well, just a few words.” He halted and adjusted himself on the seat. “The taxi driver spoke some English.” Laird checked his phone, which might have been a tic, but he seemed to be composing himself, thinking too deeply. “Traffic affects all the workers in the city. Hours that could be productively spent they waste like this.” He gestured out the window. We were now crawling along España. In front of a Jollibee, a giant bee mascot was waving and handing out fliers. “What the Filipinos need,” he continued, “is better infrastructure, work on the Light Rail Transit, expansion into the neighboring areas surrounding Manila. With this workforce and our labor a major international economic presence, there’s no need to be struggling like this.” He nodded, affirming his statement and, apparently, waiting for a response.

“All that is fairly obvious,” I said. “Who doesn’t want better infrastructure?”

Laird was suddenly alert. “Yet you’re anti Gumboc?”

“Absolutely. I know that overseas workers overwhelmingly support him,” I said. “And his ideas for expanding Metro Manila largely reflect yours, but he hasn’t solved anything. Of course I’m anti Gumboc.”

“But you are in the minority,” Laird said. “It was your article in Vice that taught me that and all the reasons for his popularity. People have made peace with his presidency.”

“His supporters, maybe, but not me, and I am not alone.” I set my eyes on Laird. “Even if Gumboc did manage to fix the Light Rail Transit and traffic, I wouldn’t support him. He’s a thug and a murderer.”

“You think ontologically rather than consequentially.”