It’s in Spanish but they keep showing American movies from a few years ago so I’ve either seen them or can follow the basic plot.

I grab the seat in the middle and keep to myself.

Luckily, the other people do, too.

The only time I ever even make eye contact with someone is when we’re both waiting to use the restroom at the same time.

The bus makes occasional stops at various stations and I follow the rest of the passengers out to get homemade tamales and other things that the local venders stands are selling.

When I need a pick-me-up, I opt for the fresh-squeezed juice, mango and mandarin are my favorites.

The journey is long and boring and at one station I spot a few paperbacks in English.

They are dirt cheap so I splurge on four. They are mostly by authors I’ve never heard of, but I don’t care. Without a smartphone, I don’t have access to my audiobooks, podcasts, movies, books, or music.

It has been thirty hours of nothing but listening to the thoughts in my own head. That’s enough for me.

Most of my thoughts are just those of regret and what-ifs.

The majority come back to Olive.

I need something to entertain me.

Finally, we arrive in Tijuana. A dusty border town that’s known for its hookers and drugs. I’m surprised to see that there’s a whole other part of Tijuana as well. There are expensive coffee shops, restaurants and boutiques, and high rise condos gentrifying neighborhoods.

The bus station is a new beautiful building with glass walls and murals on one side.

It’s a bustling place full of vendors and all sorts of people coming and going.

Expecting a dusty outpost at the edge of the world, I am pleasantly surprised.

I call Big Dipper as soon as I step off the bus and find a quiet corner. He is happy to hear from me.

“Another few hours and you would’ve lost the job,” he warns.

“Why is there such a time crunch?”

“I’m a subcontractor. There are a lot of people vying for this job. If I can’t deliver, they move on to another group. There is no holding it. Not for you, not for anyone.”

He didn’t have to say this to remind me that we are not friends. We’ve met a few times in Vegas, had a few good times, but we are nothing but business associates.

“Don’t forget that I saved your life once.” I remind him of the debt that he owes me.

In this line of work, your word is your bond.

“That’s why I offered you the opportunity in the first place,” he says. “You’ll meet Dorothy at the Starbucks upstairs in half an hour. She’ll have the rest of the details.”