by Ross Munro

Created on: May 21, 2009

The bus to Qui Nhon

And when the bus finally arrived all hell broke lose. The impatient crowd surged forward to get on while an equally impatient group struggled to get off. The driver and his three offsiders yelled at those trying to get on while the local agent yelled at those getting off. One man tripped coming down the steps and spilt his sack of peanuts at the feet of those getting on. He disappeared down to ankle level, desperate to save his cargo as it got crushed underfoot. Then others getting off tripped over the man saving his peanuts which made everyone shout louder. By now the passengers, both those getting on and those getting off, all chimed in with loud opinions and the lucky ones who were already in their seats started laughing at the chaos unfolding.

Somehow it happened. We all got on and they all got off and nothing was hurt except the peanuts and their owner who looked as crushed as they were, but only on the inside.

Now we were trying to find our seats. There was no allocation so everyone started to scrabble for what seemed like the best one which somehow turned out to be the nearest unoccupied spot, and everyone had to have it. This invited louder shouting from the driver and his mates who seemed to climb over the backs of the crowd in the aisle that were sardining themselves into one chair. But once occupied they, all of them, turned to the next seat and started scrabbling and elbowing and ducking and diving for that one. Meanwhile the whole back of the bus lay invitingly empty.

All that lay behind me as I was shepherded by the local agent into a seat, two back from the driver. As the only westerner on board, he was determined that I should get the best, in his opinion. As far as I could tell it was the worst place on the bus, not least because there was no room for my knees. Nevertheless the hapless occupant was unceremoniously ejected into the crush of humanity fighting down the back and I was as unceremoniously dumped into his position with my legs sticking out into the aisle like two broken matchsticks. This was unfortunate for me and clearly an affront to the agent who became highly motivated to prove that this was, indeed, the best seat available. In an effort to make my legs fit he reclined the backrest as far as it would go on to the knees of the poor woman behind who yelped in alarm and pain. The whole manoeuvre actually made me slide further forward in the chair and now my legs completely blocked the aisle. Oblivious of

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