It was a Thursday night in Cubao. The air was hot, sticky.
Outside the Smart Araneta, the sky was bruised and gray but inside, it was bright as day. With colors. Lights. Laughter. Excitement.
People of all shapes, sizes, age were there for Alagang Suki Fest 2025. It was a long title for a concert but it is fitting. It meant to celebrate 80 years of two great companies—Unilab and Mercury Drug. They gave medicine and memory to this country for generations. On this night, they gave a show. And what a show.
It began at half past six, and the stage did not sleep for the next four and a half hours.
Legit Status came on first. They moved like soldiers trained for joy. Jolina Magdangal came out for a guessing game about a box. Robi Domingo made people cook fast. Belle Mariano danced and sang and walked among the people like she belonged to them. Maybe she did.
The crowd was full and tight. They did not blink when Mayonnaise came up—five men on the far-left stage, guitars clenched like rifles. Monty Macalino led them through six songs. “Jopay” was the loudest, but “Synesthesia” left the deepest bruise. They said it was for the ones who “relapse.” That made sense.
We take another huge gulp from our now warm iced tea.
Then came Darren. The young girls screamed. Obviously they loved him. Five songs. When he danced, two dancers joined him. When he sang alone, he stood straight. The lights made sweat shine like medal pins on his skin. We remember him singing “(Dying Inside) To Hold You.”
Maki came up next. He performed seven songs, all of them full of longing. Hugot-filled, some say. He sang “Kahel na Langit” for the first time in the Dome. He sang “Saan?” for the first time in the country. He was confident. He had the crowd in the palm of his hands.
Then came Gary Valenciano. They call him “Mr. Pure Energy” but what we saw was a miracle. A man still working hard after forty-two years in the ‘biz. Maybe harder now. He was the oldest on that stage after all. But he moved with conviction. The truth in every hip thrust.
His set was long too. Maybe an hour. Ten dancers behind him for “Shout for Joy.” Confetti after. The crowd was on its feet. Some were dancing, others were shouting. We just stood there with mouth agape, stunned. How could he continue laughing at the face of Father Time?
He then sang with RJ dela Fuente. A gospel song—“Blessings.” Later, he dropped down from the stage. Touched hands with many of those present. Raised his arms. Smiled. He looked like a man near sixty-one, but also like a boy at play.
“Why me?” he asked the crowd. “Maybe because I’m closest in age to 80.” People laughed, but he probably meant it.
And then, at last, BINI. The crowd—the Blooms—screamed as if breath was optional. The Big Dome thundered. No one sat. Not even the ushers. They performed three songs—“Pantropiko,” “Shagidi,” and “Karera.” Then they promoted a vitamin and walked off. But no one moved.
“Encore!” someone yelled. This was echoed by many. Just like that, the most popular girl group in the country emerged from backstage anew. They sang “Salamin, Salamin.”
At the end, Gary V, Maki, Darren, Mayonnaise, and dancers from earlier came up. They all stood together. Not as stars, but as people who gave something. Something loud, something proud, and something needed.
And that was that.
The people stayed a little while longer. They looked at the stage, as if memory could be touched if they just stood still enough.
Outside, the streets of Quezon City were quieter. But inside the Big Dome, something had already burned bright and left its mark.
We thought, this is how celebrations should be.
