Flashback: Crossing the Border/River Styx

How bad can one bus journey be?

Answer: Very very bad.

Jon nor I were very jazzed about the 23 hour bus ride. However, the purchase of snacks, namely Laughing Cow Blue Cheese and Ritz, gave us something to be excited about. I would soon find out that blue cheese can be a very bright light in a very dark tunnel.

As we got on the bus, we noted the dismal amount of leg room. As I pondered the lack of leg room, hordes and hordes of locals began to clamber aboard the bus.

Me (confusedly) to Jon: "Why are all these people getting on the bus? There is clearly not enough seats for them."

And there were not enough seats. Out came the plastic stools, and the locals sat in the aisles. One individual was leaning slightly against my arm. I don't relish in bodily contact with strangers. Naturally, I tried to shove shove him away. He did not budge, as we were packed in like a tin can of sardines. My friend (as I ought to call him, since we had become quite close in the last few minutes) was going nowhere.

I looked at Jon, shook my head sadly, and said, "Well, at least we know it can't get any worse."

As soon as the words spilled out of my mouth, the speakers came alive, and most marvelous cacophony proceeded to fill the remaining crevices of space on the bus. It sounded something like Tejano music with vocal stylings by a dying cat. I began to laugh hysterically. The journey couldn't possibly get any worse---and it hadn't even started.

It was truly as bad as it could possibly get, until the air conditioning crapped out, and it got even worse.

On the way to the border, the bus stopped occasionally, so our friends could purchase tons of energy drinks they seemed to love so much. We never knew when we were going to stop, and by the time we figured out it was a long stop, the driver would have locked the bus, so we couldn't get off. I felt like I had done something very very bad, and (in the slightly abridged words of Snoop) we were on our way to jail, rolling on the Grey Goose. Of course, there was no need to shackle us, as we were straight-jacketed by our seats.

About three in the morning, the bus stopped. I blinked for a second, and the entire bus was empty. Where had our friends gone? (Not that I actually missed them.) Were they all taking a smoke break? Did the energy drinks necessitate a bathroom trip--en masse? (Not that I really cared. I was just curious.)

It became apparent we were at the border, which seemed waaaay earlier than scheduled. It also became apparent our friends did not want to wait for the border to open, they wanted to cross it at night, on foot. Perhaps the lot of them had terribly unflattering passport photos, and were a bit shy about flashing it to the officials. Since we arrived at the border to give them enough time to run-run across, we now had a FIVE HOUR WAIT before the border opened. Joy to the world.

After a fairly straightforward border crossing with a small bribe on the Vietnamese side, (just a dollar, but it's the principle of it), we were in Laos. I was glad. Our friends were MIA, and I hoped to never see them again.

We waited at a cafe (munching on blue cheese and Ritz--yum) while our bus was inspected and searched for stowaways. We received clearance, and the border police drove off. A few minutes later (and much to my dismay), all thirty of our friends rolled up in the back of a pickup. They looked disheveled and dirty from their night of running about in the woods. When we got back on the bus, we discovered our friends were quite stinky. I fantasized about hosing down the lot of them with aerosol deodorant.

It seems border jumping is tiring work, and they were all very sleepy, especially my little friend sitting in the aisle next to me. He would nod off, and his head would roll across and settle on my shoulder. I'm a bit shy, and I don't really like cuddling with strange men, particularly strange, stinky, dirty men. I kept shifting, and shifting, and shifting to avoid him. Finally, I waited till his head found my shoulder, then snapped my shoulder back and sent his head flying. He didn't try to cuddle with me again.

Once we had to get out of the bus, because the bridge ahead was broken. The driver off-roaded it (not advisable with human cargo) and went through a small stream, as we trailed behind on foot. We drove over a few wooden bridges that popped under our weight. That was exciting. (If our stowaways were American instead of SE Asian, we would have reduced that bridge to a packet of toothpicks.)

Needless to say, I have never been so excited as when we rolled into Vientiane. Apparently the individual(s) sleeping on our bags saw fit to deposit tremendous amounts of phlegm and spit around our bags. They also decided to help us on our travels by lightening our packs. Jon's belt was liberated (and by liberated, I mean stolen) from his bag. Apparently, they didn't want any of my crap; it made me feel a teensy bit unspecial.


I tried to post photos, but blogger would not cooperate, so I might try again sometime.