Look Ma, no hands!

Traffic on South Sathorn Rd, just outside my hotel, was beastly. Cars were in gridlock, honking ferociously, maneuvering on curbs, and whole heartedly ignoring whatever semblance of order the road paint was trying to instill. Crap. I had promised to meet Wesley and the other Mercer english teachers for dinner in 30 minutes. Even with the help of the BTS, I might be beyond fashionably late. I hailed a motorbike taxi, explained that I needed to get to the nearest BTS station with what I believe was the word ‘fast’, and hopped on after agreeing to a fare. Fortunately, my pants allowed me to ride standard instead of the precarious ‘side saddle’ that women are required to resume if wearing a skirt. (Note to self: Avoid wearing a skirt if it might be a motorcycle taxi kind of day.) My crash course in Thai manners had also instructed me to avoid, at all costs, hanging on to your driver. So, there I was, perched on the back of a tiny motorbike about to battle rush hour traffic without the ability to hold on, save for an awkward handle behind my seat.

The engine revved and suddenly I realized that ‘fast’ might have not been the wisest choice of words. My taxi man was on a mission. I gasped each time we passed between spaces tight enough that any reasonable assessment would have deemed them knee cap removers. I quickly deemed that gripping the rear handle was far too dangerous as it positioned my elbow outside the realm of safety... anywhere beyond 6” off the side of the motorbike. So, I let go. Look Ma, no hands! We continued this way, with the occasional sojourn into oncoming traffic, for several kilometers of gridlock. Like magic, my taxi man deftly swerved in and out, back and forth, until he got so frustrated he abandoned the designated road entirely, hopping up on the sidewalk to rocket past stand still traffic. I laughed. Really, it was my only option. I should have been terrified but I had asked for this. Taxi man looked back, smiled, and rocketed forward at an even quicker pace. Then, out of nowhere, the BTS station appeared around a corner. He delivered me to the bottom of the steps and I gave him the negotiated fare of 30 baht and bid him farewell. And, just like that, he was gone.