I'm sitting in the front. Two girls in the middle row.
Where are the other two passengers? We're already late.
Then the door opens. Two tall, shirtless English guys stumble in—sunburned, disheveled, still riding the high from last night.
"Mornin' mates!" one of them grins as they climb aboard.
One squeezes into the back. The other drops beside a sweet girl in the middle seat, his bare shoulder pressed right up against hers.
The guy in the back shouts to the driver in the front,
"Hey boss man! You got aux?"
The Indonesian driver glances into the rearview mirror, totally confused.
"Sorry, what?"
The guy repeats himself, louder now, as if volume might help.
"Hey boss man! You got aux?"
I'm sitting there thinking:
Bro, do you really think he knows what the hell you're saying?
For christ's sake—this man grew up in a village. He barely knows English. He sure as hell doesn't know what an aux cord is.
This is gonna be a long ride.