This is part three in an ongoing travelogue. The author is a recent college grad, journeying through China for the first time. Experience the sights, smells, people and places of China through her writings.

From the Road: Bus Mishaps
May 11, 2004

This morning our bus was in an accident, after a small truck decided to take us on by pulling out in front of us. The front window was decorated with a spider web pattern of broken glass and the side mirror dangled from a single wire.

Some of us remained in our seats while about 15 others joined the inspection committee around the bus and truck, making ample comments, yet amazingly, not lifting a finger. Then a police tow truck arrived and we were all told to get off the bus. We asked about getting our bags from the storage area underneath the bus, but were told that we needed to wait. I held up my little green baggage claim tag which unfortunately was missing its other half at this moment. I even offered to do it myself, but I was waved away.

Just then a minibus and a "mian bao che" ("Loaf of bread van," called such because of its resemblance to a loaf of bread.) pulled up and the inspection committee eagerly jumped in as the remaining nine of us watched their dust settling behind them.

Then a man started pacing around, speaking harsher and louder than the normally harsh and loud way of speaking around here. And then voices chimed in from the other six people left on the side of the road (my friend and I decided to keep it down during this part), as they contributed to the cacophony.

Around this time, another mini-bus pulled up, and the bus driver yelled out, "Kuai dian! Kuai dian!!" (Hurry up, hurry up!!) to all of us, and everyone started hauling it down the side of the highway, high heels, business suits and everything, towards our new vehicle. Of course, at this time, the bus driver was sitting on the bus with no intention of getting our things from below. So I strutted into the highway pulled up the little door, grabbed the three bags, and slammed it back down. "Good grab!" my friend yelled out to me as she grabbed one of the bags and we joined the cattle run down the highway.

Our last bag had no sooner made it though the door of our new chariot when we started our journey again. Of course the other seven people had made it on before us and grabbed the prime seats, leaving only window seats blocked by those in the aisle seats, or the back seat. Well, maybe it could be called a bench, seeing that it lacked any kind of cushion. We decided on the back seat, and practically knocked out the other passengers as we attempted to force our way to the back. Bag straps caught on arm rests, my backpack became intimate with many people's arms, and I finally made it after throwing one bag in the aisle and kicking it to the back.

By this point, the humor in the situation far outshined the aggravation and we laughed and laughed as we bumped our way down the road on our bench which became harder and harder each minute. As we pulled into the bus station, we waited until everyone else stepped down off the bus and hurried off as the bus driver yelled at us to get off the bus!

Until next time,
Your friend in Asia