High Class

The bus we board is more than posh, a virtual airship. More legroom than I know what to do with, seats wider than most arm chairs. Movie screens. Food. Booze.

Prompted by the news from Konar that he was getting food and drink forced upon him by the good people of Thailand on their buses, I thought it only proper to document the luxury we found here.

There has been talk of champagne. There has been talk of nothing but the free food and booze that is to be lavished upon us. Two hours in to the 18 hourdrive to Buenos Aires, we watch with eyes like puppies, following every move made by our driver-waiter as he prepares our trays. Dinner is placed in my lap, a beer in my hand, swaying slightly with the undulation of the bus as it cruises towards BA.

The wait has made us hungry. The food comes in airline style sachets and packets. The message is to devour everything in front of you. We methodically knock back the small burger (the presence of the naked burger threw me - a lone burger as a starter?), chew thoughtfully on the roll of ham and cheese on a cocktail stick - plus olive and stone. Dig the last of the cream cheese from its casing - plus crackers - and then start on the mystery cross-section of meat with ham and a boiled egg at its centre. The bed of mash swiftly follows, plus sachet of salt, paper napkin and the coffee creamer. The waiter arrives in time to stop us eating the tray itself.