With Infinite Money I Can Do Everything

Driving the party bus was like trying to navigate a submarine through a nightclub during an earthquake. The bass from the cheesy 90s dance track vibrated through the floorboards and Jun-Jun's teeth. Strobe lights flashed erratically, reflecting off the cracked faux-leather seats, the dusty velvet ropes partitioning a non-existent VIP section, and the sad, slow rotation of a ceiling-mounted disco ball. Worst of all was the fog. The previous owner must have just refilled the machine, because thick, cloying artificial smoke billowed relentlessly from vents near the floor, swirling around Jun-Jun's knees and occasionally obscuring the windshield entirely.

"Okay, less fog!" Jun-Jun muttered, blindly swatting at the unfamiliar dashboard controls while trying to peer through a momentary gap in the haze. He hit a button – instead of reducing fog, it activated a series of neon lights under the bus, bathing the narrow side street in an obnoxious pulsating green glow. "Nope, not that one."

He was somewhere in the labyrinthine network of residential streets branching off Quezon Avenue. Small apartment buildings crowded modest bungalows, interspersed with sari-sari stores displaying laundry soap sachets and glowing jars of pickled eggs. Tricycles zipped past, their drivers giving the fog-belching, strobe-flashing behemoth incredulous looks. Kids playing patintero on the road scattered, pointing and laughing. A group of women gossiping over a fence paused mid-sentence, jaws agape. Jun-Jun felt less like he was escaping and more like he was leading a parade float that had taken a spectacularly wrong turn.

He finally located the fog machine switch and thankfully plunged the immediate vicinity into breathable air, though the strobe lights and terrible music persisted. He fumbled for his phone, propping it on the dashboard and trying to get Google Maps to pinpoint his location amidst the urban canyon effect of the buildings.

"Okay, Google Maps lady," he instructed the phone. "Destination: Aling Nena's Halo-Halo Heaven, Cubao. Avoid police. Prioritize speed and... festive routes?"

The GPS calculated, blissfully unaware of the vehicle's ridiculousness or the lingering threat of Captain Reyes. "Turn left onto Kalayaan Avenue," the synthesized voice instructed calmly.

"Left? Are you sure?" Jun-Jun squinted at the upcoming intersection. Kalayaan Avenue seemed plausible, a major road. He just had to execute the turn in a vehicle approximately the size of a small whale, currently shedding disco light.

His phone rang. It was Migs. Jun-Jun answered via the bus's surprisingly functional (if crackly) Bluetooth speaker system.

"JUN-JUN! WHAT IS GOING ON?!" Migs' voice blasted through the speakers, competing with the Europop track. "I saw the news! You ditched the bread truck?! People online are saying you escaped in a... a 'mobile disco'?"

"Party bus, Migs! Technically!" Jun-Jun corrected cheerfully, narrowly avoiding a parked tricycle as he negotiated the turn onto Kalayaan Avenue. The traffic here was heavier, a mix of jeepneys, private cars, and motorcycles. The party bus drew immediate, widespread stares. "Upgrade! More legroom. Though the fog machine is a bit much."

"An upgrade?! Jun-Jun, you're driving a rolling traffic violation! Captain Reyes is probably mobilizing the entire PNP against you! Where are you?"

"Trying to get to you! GPS says Kalayaan Avenue," Jun-Jun reported. "Any better routes? This thing isn't exactly nimble."

There was a groan from the speaker. "Kalayaan? Okay... stay on Kalayaan heading east... past City Hall... then you need to get towards Kamias Road. But Jun-Jun, this is insane! Why didn't you just grab a taxi after you ditched the bread truck?"

"Where's the fun in that?" Jun-Jun countered. "Besides, I bought this bus fair and square! Supporting local businesses!"

"You bought a..." Migs sounded like he needed to sit down. "Okay, fine. Kamias Road. Try not to get arrested or cause another international incident before you get there. And for crying out loud, can you turn off that music?"

"Good idea!" Jun-Jun fumbled with the controls again. He managed to kill the music, plunging the bus into a silence broken only by the engine's rumble and the faint whir of the disco ball motor. The sudden quiet felt almost unnerving.

He drove on, following Migs' intermittent directions relayed via phone ("No, not that street! That's a dead end! Turn right at the Jollibee!"). Progress was slow. Every intersection was a challenge, every jeepney stop a potential bottleneck. He noticed the fuel gauge hovering near 'E'. Infinite money was great, but it didn't magically summon gasoline.

"Uh oh, Migs," Jun-Jun said into the speaker. "Need fuel."

"Fuel? Just pull into a gas station, Jun-Jun!" Migs sounded exasperated.

"In this?" Jun-Jun gestured around the flamboyant bus. "Might attract attention. Remember Captain Reyes? Highly motivated individual."

"Okay, okay! Uh... there's a smaller, independent station just off Kamias, near Anonas. Less likely to have cops waiting. Try there. And Jun-Jun? Try to be... subtle?"

"Subtle," Jun-Jun repeated thoughtfully. "Got it."

He found the gas station Migs mentioned – a small, slightly grimy place with only two pumps. He pulled the massive party bus in, maneuvering carefully next to a pump, drawing immediate stares from the lone attendant and a tricycle driver refueling.

Jun-Jun hopped out. "Good evening! Fill 'er up, please! Premium!"

The attendant, a young woman chewing gum, just stared, eyes wide, taking in the flashing neon lights (which Jun-Jun hadn't figured out how to turn off), the tinted windows, and the sheer size of the vehicle.

"And!" Jun-Jun added, spotting a small display of snacks inside the payment booth. "I'll take all your Chippy, Clover Chips, Boy Bawang, and maybe those little chocolate cupcakes. Oh, and all the C2 iced tea you have."

The attendant blinked. "Lahat po, sir?" (All of it, sir?)

"Yup! Need road trip snacks!" Jun-Jun confirmed, pulling out a substantial wad of cash from his backpack. He estimated the fuel and snacks might cost... maybe five thousand pesos? He peeled off fifty thousand. "Keep the change! Consider it a tip for handling unusual vehicles!"

As the attendant gaped at the money and slowly started fueling the bus, the tricycle driver, who had finished refueling, approached Jun-Jun hesitantly.

"Boss," the driver said, "Party?"

Jun-Jun turned. "Not exactly. Just trying to get to Cubao for halo-halo."

The driver looked confused. "Ah. Okay." He paused. "Pasakay, boss? Kahit hanggang Anonas lang?" (Can I get a ride, boss? Even just until Anonas?) He gestured hopefully towards the party bus.

Jun-Jun considered it. An accidental passenger. Migs would freak out. On the other hand...

"Sure, why not!" Jun-Jun grinned. "Hop in! But fair warning, the fog machine might kick back on."

The tricycle driver's face lit up. He eagerly climbed into the party bus just as the attendant finished fueling and started bagging an enormous quantity of junk food and iced tea. Jun-Jun paid, loaded the snacks onto a vacant seat, and climbed back behind the wheel, his new passenger looking around the bizarre interior with wide eyes.

"Okay," Jun-Jun announced to his passenger and to Migs (still presumably listening via Bluetooth). "Fuel tank full, snack supply replenished, co-pilot acquired! Next stop, Cubao! Let's see if we can find that music again..." He started randomly pressing buttons on the dashboard once more. The strobe lights seemed to flash faster.