Bus

Hour 11 and we had been stopped at a construction site in nowhere land Laos for god knows how long.  

We went to Luang Prabang, Laos without an exit strategy.  Lesson learned, heroes of yore.  With my Jonathan Larson style poverty (sans AIDS and heroine, mind you) as a dominating factor we were looking for the cheapest and safest way back to Thailand. Flights were too expensive, the speedboat was too scary (described as a "surfboard with a car engine attached to it") leaving us with the option of the bus.  

Sure, 13 hours to the border.  That's nothing.  Oh and it's only $30? please sign me up. 

5:30pm we arrive at the bus station for our bus.  In my mind's eye I had envisioned a luxury liner.  Some VIP cruiser with plush seats, ice water with lime served on the half hour and a constant reel of the newest releases playing on my personal television screen.  What we were met with was a bus probably crafted sometime during the Carter administration.  As we shuffled in to find out seats motorcycles were being piled high on the roof, as were unidentifiable mammal sized plastic bags.  The belly of the ship was of course stocked as well, and we nestled in to our air-conditionless home for the next day.  

We pulled out of the bus stop packed to the brim, 3 people in every 2-person seat and the motorcycles on the roof palpably weighing on the bus.  About 3o minutes into the rid when we thought nothing else could be crammed in, the bus slowed to a stop.  Enter, about 35 more passengers, all equipped with stools.  These stools were then lined in the aisle of the bus and everyone took their seats.  Now the sun is setting, Laos men on stools are spooning by my side and the bus is moving with an unbelievable gracelessness.  

It should be noted as well that the Laos roads are about as professionally paved as if I had gone onto a dirt path and dug random holes roughly every 7 feet and then encouraged people to drive there.  

Radios have now been turned on, the front door has yet to be shut (it will never be shut), and I am clutching Oliver and the Laos man on the stool next to me with every harrowing turn the bus makes, my life flashing before my eyes and Oliver and I mapping out the best crash position to take WHEN not IF the bus flips.  Suffice it to say that this went on until 11am the next morning.  16 hours later.  It would be 11 more hours until we were back in Chiang Mai.  

A few highlights of the Laos bus ride.  

Awaking from a bizarre sleep to realize that there is a man hanging out of the still gaping front door as we creak up the windey mountain, vomiting violently as the bus driver cackles in hysterics.  I then realize that plastic bags are being thrust into my face and I am suddenly caught in a wave of passing them back.  The overhead light turned on briefly enough for me to realize that every single person in the back of the bus was vomiting.  Love those roads. 

Thrilling moment number two.  During one the frantic bathroom breaks where the bus lurched to a stop and suddenly everyone was peeing on the side of the road I realized that we had been driving with a gaggle of men riding on the rough of the bus.  

Thrill numero tres.  I woke up at about 3am to a stopped bus.  It was extremely clear that we had been stopped for a long time due to the fact that passengers from the bus were roaming around outside my window.  We joined the herd only to discover that we were stopped at a construction sight.  The bus driver was now asleep and the construction was taking up the entire road.  Obviously the only road in Laos.  

We stayed at the construction site until the sun rose at 6am.  By that point passengers on our bus were spear heading the construction team.  "Isn't that man waving in the crane the guy sitting behind us?" Oliver asked.  And he was.  

I'm still recovering.