The Bus Ride from Hell

Monday, October 4th, 2010 in: News

We asked the drink peddlers at the park entrance where we could catch a bus back to Xi’an and they pointed down the street at the bottom of the hill. Almost to the intersection we were intercepted by a middle-aged lady offering us bus tickets. She escorted us to the bus “station” and tried to get us to come sit under the awning, which seemed kind of like an open garage with a sketchy food stand in the middle, run by herself and a couple other women. Still stung by the blatant opportunism we’d encountered in Xi’an thus far, we were suspicious of her intentions and refused her offer, opting to wait out by the curb for the bus. She kept trying to get us to come “inside,” which just made us more suspicious.

“I just don’t want her to win, because now she’s pissed me off with her insistent attitude and I just don’t want to do what she says, even if she’s not trying to con us or anything, I can’t let her win!” Dan confided as we watched the 5th or 6th bus pass for the wrong destination. I thought that Xi’an was a common place to come and go to Huashan, but you certainly couldn’t tell from the bus schedule. The bus lady kept assuring us that the bus was only minutes away, but every bus that came by was destined for some other place.  I was getting more agitated, ready to walk back to the train station, but Dan stopped me. “we’re already here, the bus will be along eventually.” I realized that I was getting worked up over a relatively short (albeit uncomfortable) wait in the sun. Not just China, but all of Asia is pretty much full of transportation that either lacks or ignores any schedule, especially my own. An hour’s wait for a bus is a drop in the bucket, I need to sack up and learn some patience.

The bus finally came and it was a smaller one similar to the one we had ridden to Baiyanggou with all the peasants. As as we were boarding some Chinese people apparated (yes, I just used a Harry Potter term because it really felt like they conjured some sort of magic to do this) out of nowhere and forced their way onto the bus in front of us. I didn’t really mind until we boarded to find almost all the seats taken. As the people ahead of us, the smattering of open seats were getting filled, and I started to regret not being more aggressive when the bus pulled up and we got muscled out of our position in line. The American couple we saw on our way down were already seated on the bus; they were headed to the North peak as we were descending, and took the cable car down to the parking lot where the bus route began, serving as an indicator as to just how long we had been waiting for the bus.

Dan got the last seat in the back row, and I was left standing in the aisle wondering just how this was going to go. There was one guy behind me and a couple in front of me, so I was sandwiched in the aisle. The bus lady appeared carrying some tiny plastic stools for us to sit on, but arranged them in such a way that could only be described as sadistic. There was a step about 3 or 4 feet from the back row, and so she placed the guy behind me and myself on the step, which forced him into the legs of those seated, and similarly positioned me practically between his legs, which I’m sure he was thrilled about. My stool was perched on the absolute edge of the step, preventing me from moving forward without falling, not that I could anyways because the girl in front of me was already positioned so closely that I could’ve filed a sexual harassment suit against her back home. How long was this bus ride again? 2 hours?

So I was stuck in this stress position like a Guantanamo inmate on this tiny bus full of people who had been climbing a mountain in 90% humidity on a hot day, many of whom had spent the night outside as we had. I try to have a positive outlook on things but I have to admit that this was probably the most agonizing ride of my life. The bus had a suspension system made out of bamboo, which transferred every bump from the poorly constructed highway into my butt. The stool had raised bumps on the seat which I didn’t notice at first but after the first hour began to feel like I’d been seated on an inquisitional chair. Of course, the flimsy plastic couldn’t take the heat any better than us, and my stool twisted and creaked under my weight, threatening to give way.

Fortunately, I had brought my inflatable travel pillow, and by partially inflating it, it provided enough cushion to make it just north of unbearable. The guy half of the couple in front of me had worse luck, and his chair actually did explode under him, sending shards of plastic everywhere. I can’t remember if they replaced his stool, because he spent the rest of the journey resting back into his girlfriend’s lap, which sent her back into my knees. If I leaned back at all, I would butt heads with the guy behind me, who took to leaning forward to get some sleep. All I had for distraction was my rage and the book on Englishness I had been reading, but it was difficult to distract myself from the misery of the moment, punctuated by the headache of having lost my phone, which would surely have served me well this entire journey. I guess I should also mention that there was no A/C, that was a nice touch.

I tried meditation, which did help a little bit. I focused on the fact that like all things, this torture was impermanent. Every experience is important, and buried deep in the knees of these strangers was a valuable lesson. I pondered that for a moment but realized I was too close to the situation to look at it objectively, and was still mourning the loss of my phone, which made anything hard to see in a positive light. I almost snapped when a few stops out of Huashan, the bus lady came around to collect the bus fare, and charged those of us stuck on the floor the same 32 kuai as those in their comfy seats. I was at a loss for words, both in the sense that I was shocked at the disparity in the seating arrangement and that I lacked the vocabulary to fully express my indignation at it all. All I could muster was 三十快？真的？？ 32 kuai? REALLY?　My tone was lost on her, and she nodded as if I was just asking to confirm how much of my money would soon be hers. Not wanting to be that foreigner and make a scene, I gave her the cash and pleadingly looked back at Dan, hoping he would understand the magnitude of my irritation. I think he got it. I mouthed something along the lines of “this is such complete 狗屁.” Language lesson! For your reference, 狗屁, goupi  means “dog farts,” but translates to “bullshit.” He solemnly nodded in agreement. To be fair, he offered to rotate seats at the beginning of the ride, but by the 2nd hour I was determined to suffer through it and prove to myself that I could do it.

The bus hit traffic, and 2 hours turned into 3 and a half. The almost pleasant breeze through the windows from the moving bus was replaced with hot exhaust from the surrounding vehicles, and the only option was to close the windows, turning the minibus into a stifling cesspool of humanity. Almost into the town, some people finally got off the bus, opening up some seats. I sat down next to Dan on the hard seat in the back of the bus, and it was most relief I had felt the entire trip. It was a terrible seat but it was a La-Z-Boy next to what I’d been putting up with, and I realized that all experience is relative, and no matter how bad it gets, I should be thankful that at least it’s not worse. Not willing to ride all the way to the train station near the hostel, we got off the first opportunity we could in Xi’an and cabbed back. I managed the muster a smile and wished the couple a pleasant journey when we disembarked, making a point to look as pissed off as I could when I passed the bus lady clutching our money. We should have walked to the train station, I thought, we just got hustled again. Compared to the 40 minute bullet train ride the previous day, I realized that one of the lessons from this bus ride from hell was that value can at times be EASILY quantified by experience, and that $5 can make all the difference in a purchase decision.

Lesson learned, China. You can stop teaching me now, I don’t think my ass can take any more abuse.

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