Fear Less = Fearless.

India Travel Journal, 2000.

hurtling through space & time, I have stared death in its ugly maw...

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, you may ask?

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.

Standard modus operandi for driver-
*pass on every blind curve
*drive motorcycles off the road
*hit and kill at least one dog
*be an intriguing blend of mild retardation, amphetamines and rage
*spend most of your time with your head out the window, drooling the narcotizing betel juice on the side of the bus
*blow the horn once for each heart beat
*feel free to doze at the wheel, but if you should get too sleepy, do something terrifying so that the adrenaline gives you a nice, heady lift.

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. Actually, sleep didn't happen on this particular journey. It was a good lesson in handling fear, though. When there isn't much you can do in an uncertain 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 night buses in India.

Craig