The bus full of free spirits never had a particular destination in mind. They drove, stopped where they pleased, and continued on down the long road that would take them to the tip of Chile if they so desired. There was never a plan, no itinerary, and no thought of meals or a place to rest until those things became necessary.
I did not adapt well.
We bounced down the highway as the morning cold began to make way for the afternoon heat, passing town after town, the coastline now out of sight and replaced by small mountains and wide, placid lakes.
I was staring at my phone. The last text I'd sent Sarah was when I'd arrived in Ensenada two days prior. She hadn't bothered to respond.
Before I left home, I told her I'd call her every night--my cell plan afforded me service in Mexico--but she wasn't interested.
Just text me when you get there and I'll see you when you get back.
She was so dismissive, like she couldn't wait for me to be gone.
What was I going to say to her, anyway? Hey, honey. Just wanted to let you know that I found a gorgeous twenty-three-year-old Latina that I've probably fallen in love with. Not sure if I'll be coming home in two weeks. How are you?
I turned off the phone and slipped it into my backpack--mochila, Valeria had taught me--turning my attention to the angel sitting across from me. She had her bare feet up on her seat with her back against the bus window and a book pinned against her knees. *Lolita,* the book's forest-green cover read.
How relevant.
We toiled on in mostly silence, aside from one of Junior's friends blessing us with the relaxing strumming of an acoustic guitar they kept on the bus. I hadn't been able to even look at a bottle of beer the day prior, and I had finally shaken the hangover I'd earned on my first day in Mexico. Shortly before midday, Alejandro pulled us down a side highway that spat us out on the banks of one of those expansive lakes, parking the bus and collapsing onto the open couch.
"Bedtime," he said, throwing on a pair of shades and shutting down for the day. Alejandro was a night owl, preferring to drive the bus while most of us slept, going to sleep himself around noon, and then waking up as the sun was setting. His coffee was weed. His sleeping pill was weed. His breath was practically weed.
Sometimes another veteran of the bus would hop in the driver's seat and take over, and other times we would just stay where Alejandro had parked us. Though, we rarely drove anywhere between ten at night and three or four in the morning. Too dangerous, Alejandro had told me.
On that day, we stayed put.
The sun was high above us, but I was content with not taking a dip in the murky lake. Valeria stepped off the bus after me and stretched her sleepy body. She hadn't bothered to put shoes on, digging her toes into the cool dirt.
"What are we doing here?" I asked, eager to have any type of direction.
Valeria smiled as Junior and some of the others began bringing tents, coolers, and chairs out of the bus. "Camping!"
My nerves were immediately set on end. There was so much planning you had to do before you went camping! We needed a first-aid kit, ice, firewood, food, water... Hell, I didn't even have my sleeping pad! But as I assisted with setting up the camp, I saw that the free spirits had just about everything that I would have come up with in a day's worth of proper preparation.
I suppose they weren't so aimless after all.
Once we got the five tents set up, a little fire going for cooking, and the first round of beers opened, I relaxed, taking a seat next to Junior on a rock near the lake's edge.
He was watching a little two-man fishing boat way out near the center of the lake.
"Is it safe to eat the fish?" I asked, staring at the muck that was slapping against the shore. "The water looks a little... silty."
"You meant nasty," Junior laughed, taking a swig from the glass beer bottle. "It should be fine so long as they cook the hell out of it. Though, I don't know if our hosts have fishing equipment."
Just then, one of the men from the bus climbed up on an even taller rock and began whistling and yelling in Spanish across the water towards the little fishing vessel. He waved his arms excitedly for about a minute before jumping down and smiling at Junior and me.
"Fish," he proclaimed. We raised our bottles in salute.
"Do you think they heard him?"
"Let's hope so, I'm starving." Junior laid back against the rock with a heavy sigh, his face wearing the relaxed smirk that had found him during puberty and that he had never been keen on shaking.
I glanced back at the camp. Valeria was stretching out on a blue yoga mat near the campfire. She'd opted to do this in a pair of pink panties that her ass devoured, with only a baggy black t-shirt to cover her always unsecured breasts. She was as wild and untamable to me as a forest fire, and I felt like a sloth trapped in the flames.
"What the hell am I going to do, Junior?"
"About dinner?" He joked. "Trust me, the fish will be fine! Once, when I was in India, I ate some kebabs off a street vendor that I'm pretty sure were undercooked dog. Had me puking for nearly two days!"
"That's not what I meant..."
