Time to Leave

In the distance, the sound of a cranky bus with a noisy rotor changes the silent decibels. The front grille of the bus rattles with a broken Mercedes Benz top sign clanking against the body of the moving rusted tin can. From the dust storm, the front of the bus emerges at full speed breaking the swirl of the dust, snaking along the gravel road with its tail pulling left to right, in an attempt to wrestle control of a straight nose. The tyres bobble up and down in unison along the gravel road. 

 

The bus comes to a screeching halt in front of the path leading to the cabin. As soon as the dust settles, a Caucasian man, JOHN OLSEN SMITH in his LATE 30’s, tall frame with a skinny build with aviator sunglasses; with brownish mullet hair style and extremely pale (pink even) exits the bus. He exudes the typical budget backpacker vibe; unkempt, with tattered Billabong boardshorts, a Jansport backpack (which has a set of white shirt, trousers and formal shoes) and a stained sleeveless “Chang Beer” tee. 

 

John steps out of the bus and gestures thank you to the driver by clasping his hands together (like a prayer); the driver barely even looking at him, closes the creaky doors. The driver turns up the volume button; The opening riff of "White Zombie’s Thunder Kiss ‘65" pounds the open faced speakers. The stubborn gear is engaged, the driver revs the engine up in unison with the song, the driver floors the accelerator pedal. The rear bus tyres spins and kicks up the dust storm’ the plume of thick dust covers the entire rearview mirror as we see John is left behind as the dust clears, the shot rack focuses to the driver who is blind (rear view mirror shot).