On a delightfully mild – weather-almanac-indicated-typical 61º (Fahrenheit; 16º Celsius) – ovation-overlapped overcast June afternoon, a Friday in 2017, Monique (Agent 32) and I (Agent 33) found ourselves on an RTS (Redwood Transit System) bus, headed to Eureka from ACV (the Eureka-Arcata airport) via California State Route 255. As we started to curve around the northwestern corner of Prussian blue Arcata Bay, I remembered that the little community of Manila lay just ahead. With Monique being a Filipina, I knew that she would be interested in adding this only-13-feet-above-mean-sea-level (four meters) bayside township to our nebulous North Coast itinerary. “Want to get off in the other Manila, asawa?” [wife in Tagalog and Cebuano] I asked her. Get off? “Sure, 33. Maybe we can find out how the little hamlet got off scot-free with that big-city name.” 33? Scot-free? She knows that I’m recording. / Bana [husband in Cebuano] is already in audio-record mode. I can sense it.