With Infinite Money I Can Do Everything

Cubao assaulted the senses. Compared to the relatively sleepy side streets they'd just navigated, Araneta Center was a riot of light, sound, and movement. Giant LED billboards flashed advertisements above teeming sidewalks. The air hummed with the rumble of buses idling at the nearby terminals, the shouts of jeepney barkers ("Quiapo! Divisoria!"), the sizzle of street food from sidewalk carts, and a thousand overlapping conversations. The sheer density of people and vehicles made the EDSA gridlock look almost organized.

"Okay, Mang Cardo," Jun-Jun said, gripping the party bus's oversized steering wheel, his knuckles white. "Aling Nena's... which way?"

"Doon lang sa may kanto, Boss," (Just around the corner, Boss.) Mang Cardo pointed towards a narrower street branching off the main thoroughfare, identifiable by a cluster of food stalls and a Mercury Drugstore sign. "Mga dalawang kanto pa siguro. Pero parking, Boss..." (Maybe two blocks away. But parking, Boss...) He trailed off, looking doubtfully at the solid wall of parked jeepneys and the non-existent curb space.

"Parking!" Migs' voice crackled urgently from the phone speaker, which Jun-Jun had placed near an air vent. "Jun-Jun, whatever you do, be INCONSPICUOUS! Don't just leave it in the middle of the road again!"

"Inconspicuous," Jun-Jun repeated, surveying the scene. "Right. How hard can it be to inconspicuously park a vehicle that looks like a Mardi Gras float had a baby with a UFO?"

He tried circling the block, drawing stares and a few angry hand gestures from drivers he inadvertently cut off. He spotted a loading zone in front of a department store. "Maybe just for ten minutes?" he mused aloud.

"No!" Migs yelped. "Towing zone! They'll have it gone before your ice melts!"

He saw an entrance to a multi-level parking garage attached to a mall. "Perfect!" He started to turn in.

"Too low, Boss!" Mang Cardo warned urgently. "Yung kisame, sasabit 'yang ilaw sa taas!" (The ceiling, those lights on top will hit!)

Jun-Jun slammed on the brakes, narrowly avoiding decapitating the party bus's rooftop disco ball accessory. He backed out awkwardly, earning another chorus of angry honks.

"Okay, inconspicuous is proving difficult," Jun-Jun admitted. He pulled over momentarily (double-parking, naturally), ignoring the immediate cacophony from behind. "We need a creative solution." His eyes scanned the surroundings. Shops, restaurants, banks... a car wash?

It was tucked between a hardware store and a lugawan (rice porridge eatery) – "Sparkle & Shine Car Wash." It looked decent, with several washing bays, vacuum stations, and a small office. Crucially, the entrance bay looked tall enough.

"Mang Cardo," Jun-Jun said, a familiar gleam in his eye. "New plan. The bus needs a wash. A very thorough, very long wash."

He drove the short distance to the car wash, pulling the lumbering party bus directly into the main washing bay, much to the astonishment of the two uniformed attendants who were busy wiping down a taxi.

Jun-Jun hopped out, beaming. "Good evening! Need the deluxe wash package! The works! Wax, tire black, interior detailing, engine wash... maybe even sanitize the fog machine?"

One of the attendants, a young man named Leo according to his name tag, stared, mouth agape. "Sir... deluxe wash... for a party bus?"

"Of course! Cleanliness is next to godliness, even for party buses!" Jun-Jun declared. "Look, I'm in a bit of a rush to meet a friend nearby for halo-halo. How much for the absolute best wash you offer, plus... say... a P50,000 'special handling fee' for taking such good care of this beauty while I'm gone for an hour or two?" He fanned a thick stack of thousand-peso bills.

Leo looked at his co-worker, then back at Jun-Jun, then at the fifty thousand pesos. "Fifty thousand... sir? For a car wash... and to leave it here?"

"Consider it pre-payment for exceptional service!" Jun-Jun clarified. "Just make sure it stays right here in this bay, getting pampered. Okay?"

Leo, looking utterly bewildered but recognizing a golden opportunity (perhaps literally), nodded quickly. "Opo, sir! Yes, sir! Deluxe wash! Special handling! Right here!"

"Excellent!" Jun-Jun turned to Mang Cardo, who had climbed out and was looking around, clutching his bag of Clover Chips like a lifeline. "Mang Cardo, my friend, my guide, my barangay checkpoint negotiator! I couldn't have done it without you."

He reached into his backpack and pulled out several bundles of cash. "For your trouble," he said, pressing a significant amount (enough to buy several brand-new tricycles) into Mang Cardo's trembling hands. "And for the expert navigation!"

Mang Cardo stared at the money, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Boss Jun-Jun... sobra sobra po ito!" (Boss Jun-Jun... this is far too much!)

"Nonsense! Hazard pay!" Jun-Jun insisted. "Plus, keep all the snacks! Share them with your family!" He clapped Mang Cardo on the shoulder. "Thank you! Now, I have a date with destiny... and leche flan."

Mang Cardo, looking completely overwhelmed, stammered his thanks. "Salamat po, Boss! Ingat po kayo! At... enjoy po sa halo-halo!" (Thank you, Boss! Take care! And... enjoy the halo-halo!) He clutched the money and the remaining bags of chips, practically floating away in a daze back towards the main road, likely contemplating early retirement.

Jun-Jun watched him go for a moment, then turned towards his goal. He grabbed his phone from the party bus dashboard. "Migs! Parking secured! Proceeding to rendezvous point! Over!" He spoke into the phone like a commando, then shoved it in his pocket.

He strode out of the car wash, leaving the attendants staring at the parked party bus and the pile of cash, and stepped onto the bustling Cubao sidewalk. Aling Nena's was just around the corner, Mang Cardo had said. He dodged pedestrians, sidestepped vendors, ignored the calls of taxi barkers. The air smelled of grilled meat, exhaust fumes, and cheap perfume. Neon lights reflected off the pavement.

He turned the final corner. And there it was. Not a flashy restaurant, but a simple, brightly lit storefront with a hand-painted sign: "Aling Nena's Halo-Halo Heaven - Since 1978." A few plastic tables and chairs were set up outside, most occupied. Through the window, he could see the counter, the colorful jars of ingredients, the shaved ice machine.

And sitting at one of the outdoor tables, looking utterly drained, surrounded by several empty, condensation-covered glasses, was Migs. He had his head in his hands, but looked up as Jun-Jun approached, his expression a perfect blend of exasperation, disbelief, and profound relief.

"Jun-Jun..." Migs croaked, looking him up and down as if checking for extra limbs or alien antennae. "You actually made it."

Jun-Jun grinned, collapsing into the plastic chair opposite Migs. "Of course! Told you I wouldn't miss it." He surveyed the empty glasses. "Rough wait?"

Migs just shook his head slowly, managing a weak smile. "You have absolutely no idea." He gestured towards the storefront. "Well? After all that... go on. Order your halo-halo."

Jun-Jun's grin widened. He took a deep breath, savoring the moment. The chaos, the spending, the police chases, the bread truck, the party bus – it all faded. He raised a hand to get the attention of the server inside. Finally. It was time for dessert.