Almost always, it takes five hours to get to my hometown.
When I hopped into Ceres Tours bus at the Cebu SouthBus Terminal this afternoon, I was told that there were no more vacant seats. I couldn’t care less, I said.
I wanted to come home already, and to get going rather than wait for the next trip.
So I stood, willing despite my stomach grumbling, because I didn’t want to delay for another five minutes after I’d logged off from work earlier only to get something to grab a bite of.
But it was not until I’d been standing for three consecutive hours when my knees started etiolating that I decided to squat on the floor and take a nap, half-awake, hoping that a vendor may come into the bus and start chanting the familiar anthem: “Ampao!” “Chicharon!” “Buko Pie.”
So far, there’s none of the above. But I’m well. I’m just hungry. Thanks for the concern.