"Mom, are you sure the bus is going to loop back around?" Skyler asked skeptically. 

Our mom nodded. "Of course," she said, although her reassurance was betrayed by a tentative smile afterwards. Our dad kept quiet to avoid an argument with our mom. My palms were beginning to get sweaty, and I rubbed them on the sides of my leggings. Although the humid weather was nearly 90 degrees, I still haven't changed out of the leggings I've worn since the plane ride. 

The sky started dimming, and the last tourist got off. Wait, friend, don't leave us. 

Skyler grew fidgety. "Mom, are you positive the bus is going back?" The doors closed, and the clock indicated it was 7 pm. The wheels picked up again and we continued further down the rows of dilapidated pharmacies and convenience stores. Skyler fumed. "You know what? I'm just going to ask the bus driver." She pushed herself off the seat and stepped into the aisleway. The bus haplessly jerked against a pothole and Skyler almost flew straight out of the window, if only she had not grasped the nearest armrest. This place is so dangerous, oh my gosh.

"Excuse me," Skyler said to the driver. The bus lurched to a stop again, and the doors slid open to welcome in a few more indigenous workers - no tourists. Skyler continued to try and get his attention as he amassed the bills of money and bus tickets they turned in. "Sir, excuse me."

Finally, after he had accumulated all the payments, he closed the door and stepped on the gas pedal, making Skyler almost topple over. She grunted under her breath, and in one final attempt, sternly questioned, "Sir, is this bus going to return to Regal Lagoon Hotel?"

The man just laughed strangely, then said, "I no speak English."

I saw Skyler's last tendril of patience go poof as she her heels and plunked back in her seat. "Why. Did. I. Take. French?!" she bursted as she ruffled her hair in exasperation.

Our dad kept quiet the entire way. It was probably because he wanted to avoid quarreling. Seeing that we were plunging deeper into the pit of despair, all of us began to sense the precarious aura. 

"I should be reading The Kite Runner right now," Skyler sighed. 

The bus was filling up quicker with every stop. We could make out several logos on their shirts, indicating that these were workers who had just got out of work. It was so packed that people were jammed against each other as they stood in the aisles. I threw my hands up in frustration. "Mom, can you ask someone?"

The demeanor our mom had before had fallen, and she turned to face a man who was hanging onto the safety poles. "Excuse me, sir, do you speak English?"

The man, startled at our appearance, did a doubletake. "What are you doing on this bus at such a late hour?" he inquired in broken English.

Our mom laughed nervously. "We're tourists, and we're wondering if there are any attractions to stop at. But apparently, the route doesn't seem to be ending anytime soon."

The man nodded understandingly. "I see," he gripped tighter on the pole. "This bus isn't turning back in another 30 minutes- until everyone's dropped off. And it would take another hour to arrive at your hotel. I'm assuming that's where you're heading?"

Skyler nodded gratefully. "Yes! Please help us."

He chuckled. "Sí, don't worry. You just get off right here." He pointed outside the window. "And get on G1, the opposite bus."

"Ohh," Skyler said. "Thank you very much, sir!" 

The bus lurched to a stop again to pick up another batch of customers. At this, the four