Chickenbus Assistant
I woke up the morning after visiting Semuc Champey to a very
grumpy Melanie. Her left ass cheek was the size, shape and color of a very large mango due to her fall (as detailed in her blog entry). She had not slept very well either due to the rock hard bed we were sleeping in. The hotel was cute though and right in the heart of Coban. There was a cute courtyard with hammocks hanging outside of each room. The restaurant situation in Coban left something to be desired though. We ate at the safest, cleanest place we could find in town for all of our meals which happened to be the restaurant in our hotel. The service was atrocious though. It definitely had the feel of a town overrun by years and years of tourists. They just didn't seem to care anymore. 
Anyways, back to Melanie's ass. Wish she had let me take a picture of it, because when she had pants on and you couldn't see the sickening discoloration, it looked like she had a kickin ghetto booty (cue the Sir Mix-a-Lot song). It was really painful and it didn't help matters that I kept grabbing and squeezing it.So, me and my sore-assed , grumpy, sleep deprived gf set out for our seven hour chickenbus ride after a crappy breakfast at the hotel restaurant. We hopped in a cab that was sitting in the town center and had to insist that we really wanted the chickenbus station and not the first class bus station. Maybe he saw Mel's ass and figured the first class bus seats were more padded. Nervertheless, he took us to the chickenbuses and dropped us off. One of the "bus station" attendants noticed us and led us to where we needed to wait and let us know we'd have to wait an hour or so. I put bus station in quotations because chickenbus stations are nothing more than super busy, crowded, dusty, gravel and dirt (mostly dirt) parking lots. There are 20- 30 chickenbuses parked around it, some pulling in, some pulling out, some just waiting while the assistant shouts out its destination to any passerby. There are also 10- 20 cabs driving around at any point in time, 50 to 100 soon-to-be passengers waiting or meandering around, and what seems like 200 six year olds carrying pegboards around their necks selling toenail clippers and other dollar store paraphenalia.
One of the walking dollar store six year olds sat right down next to Melanie. This precious dirty faced little girl started asking her about everything she was wearing and carrying... how much did it cost, where she bought it, what was in her backpack etc... It was one of the cutest (and saddest) sights I witnessed in our entire journey. The little girl told her she was saving money from all of the stuff she was selling so she could come the United States. Melanie didn't have the heart to tell her that she was wearing sneakers that cost more than she would make in five years.
Finally our bus arrived and we were the first ones to board. We got the seat right behind the driver that had some extra leg room that we could fit our bags into.
It was a good thing too, having that little six year old stowaway in my bag made it slightly more bulky than before. The bus filled up and we were off. The driver looked like Cliff Huxtable's father on the Cosby Show and the assistant was a strapping young Guatemalan lad.The drive itself wasn't nearly as exciting as previous chickenbus journeys. Having the elder statesman behind the wheel made a big difference. There were no 90 mph passes around dump trucks on blind mountain curves. Apparently he was just too old for that bologna, which was fine with us. At one point during the ride I had a basket full of 10 live chickens, all tied up together, slid right next to my feet. They were just looking around wondering wtf was going on. I took every opportunity I had to poke Melanie on the arm when she wasn't looking. When she turned to scowl at me I would simply point to the chickens in the basket and shrug. The chickens were totally playing along, blinking guiltily at her with an occasional cluck of confession. That must be why they are called chickenbuses, because you are bound to be eventually sitting next to a basket full of chickens.
Toward the end of our journey the chickenbus assistant was unloading a large amount of boxes onto the bus for a passenger. I was dying to try my hand at chickenbus assisting and jumped into action. I formed the last link in the bag/ box human conveyor belt, loading the large load onto the bus on a platform between the driver and our seat. The driver and assistant seemed shocked that a gringo would be willing to work. I enjoyed every second of it and felt more a part of my journey than ever at that moment. I was officially a chickenbus assistant for a few fleeting moments. For a reward the driver let me take a picture of him. I got a little overzealous at the end of our trip, though, climbing up the ladder toward the top of the bus to help retrieve our backpacks and box o' books. It took the assistant and Melanie a few minutes to drag me off the ladder by my ankles but I finally came to my senses and released my ladder rung arm lock.
Melanie explains our time in Flores and Tikal on her blog. Please click the link and check it out. There's a great picture of me on a rope swing over a river. I will post a few of my favorite pictures though. It was a great leg of our trip and unfortunately as it turned out, our next to last. Here's my sad face...Next post will bring everyone up to date on what's going on right this second.
Thanks for reading,
Chris
