“Our driver is kind of a jerk,” seat 22 said. That was our hero he was talking about, so I didn’t know how I felt about that. Because twenty minutes ago, our driver had been the one who greeted us when we—sweaty, tired, overheated—had finally found the bus, five minutes late. “It’s your lucky day,” the driver growled, as he climbed down from his seat, with zero desire to help us, in order to open the baggage compartment. Three hours…
“Never go on trips with anyone you do not love” — Ernest Hemingway “Is everything okay in there?” Everything was not okay in there. He stared downward in frustration and rising anger, doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. Insanity, indeed. “I’ll be out in a second,” he yelled back to her. The water would slowly drain, but that’s all that would go away. The toilet was well plugged, and no amount of plunging or…
“It’s ¡con gas!” Wait a minute. That was the most striking, and most terrifying, part of the day, but I should start from the beginning. The day began like most of our others: slowly, casually, pleasantly. We woke up late (though earlier than recently), we had breakfast and tea. We double checked all the travel plans for the day, and we were definitely in no hurry to get started. We had all day, and visiting the Concha y Toro winery…
