In reference to my previous observation about travel in India, let me just say, without appearing vainglorious, that you are lucky that there is still a Craig to be typing this. Why? Let’s just say that Magic Mountain holds no thrill for me now. After hurtling through the dark at 95 miles per hour, sitting in a straight-back chair situated behind a plate glass window – that is the essence of Indian night bus travel.
The standard modus operandi for a driver:
Needless to say, I won’t be taking another night bus. I’d rather walk. The entire trip was like that instant where you fall asleep and have a full body muscular contraction, like you are falling inward. I woke up several times with headlights directly in my eyes, not to the right where they should have been.
Sleep didn’t actually happen on this particular journey. It was a good lesson in handling fear, though: When there isn’t much you can do in a certain situation, just sit back and watch; it’s better than ulcerating for 9 hours. So friends, night dive with the sharks, bungee jump from a bridge – just don’t do anything rash, like take a night bus in India.
