More on the Hidden Perks of the Mexican Bus System

I found myself alone around noon on a 1st class bus just north of Mazatlan.
chicken

I watched with curiosity as the “ayudante,” the driver’s helper, worked his way back to my seat midway down the length of the vehicle.

“¿You speak Spanish?”

I replied to the affirmative.

“¿Do you like pollo al carbon estilo Sinaloense?”

Yes of course I love charcoal grilled chicken. Why the questions, I wondered?

“Si!” Me gusta pollo al carbon estilo Sinaloense.”

Without another word the young man turned around and shouted to the driver “Si!”

The driver jammed on the brakes, pulled off onto the shoulder, opened the door and exited into a palm frond-covered restaurant.

Later as I reached for a drumstick, I asked the driver “What do you tell them when you arrive a little late?”

“Easy! Of course we had a flat tire to deal with.”