Driving Ms. Robin

I once thought that driving in a car in Mexico was the scariest thing I ever did. And then I went to Egypt. And I knew that driving in a car in Cairo was by far the scariest thing I'd ever do. But trust me, all seem like a kiddie ride at Disney World compared to today's experience of driving to and from work in rush hour traffic in Bangalore. Driving in Bangalore seems to be one horrific, extended game of chicken played by cars, buses, motorcycles, scooters, these weird little 3 wheeled things called Tuk Tuks, pedestrians, bicycles, the occasional cow, and an army of rolling fruit stands.

My guys in my office tell me that Bangalore has a very low traffic fatality rate and I say, then they obviously have just stopped counting. I clearly did not bring enough pharmaceuticals with me and I'm too cheap to raid the honor bar, so I'd figured out the only alternative is to keep my eyes closed at all times. This has cut down tremendously on my screaming, "oh my god, we're going to die, we're going to die," which oddly enough doesn't seem to distract the driver one bit.

In the few times I managed to pry open my eyes for a few moments, I realize that the problem seems to stem from (and I admit I'm no urban planner) the fact that there don't really seem to be any rules of the road here. There seems to be a faint suggestion that cars drive on the left side, but that seems to get pretty fluid during rush hour. Unlike the stringent rules of "right of way" that us uptight American's subscribe to, the right of way here seems to be yielded to the person who doesn't flinch in the big city wide game of chicken. Motorcycles seem to be especially brave, possibly because all the drivers are wearing helmets but the 6 other people perched on the seat don't seem to be all that concerned about the big blue bus coming straight for them either.

I rented a car at Hertz, which here, comes with a little Indian man who drives you around. And I say "man" because they are all men, no women drive here. Proving once again that we are by far the smarter of the two sexes.

It takes us an hour and a half to get to the office but for all I know, it could be just 2 blocks away. And the honking! THE HONKING! it's incessant, relentless. I have only seen 2 traffic lights and 1 intersection where a police man was directing traffic and no one seemed to be paying attention to either. Whether making a left from the far right side, crossing over 6 lanes of on coming traffic, or cruising through an intersection, the protocol seems to be just to lean on your horn as if to say, "pardon me, coming through, excuse me." and then just plow right though and expect the other guy to stop. crossing over multiple lanes of traffic though is exciting, because just because you intimidate the first lane into stopping doesn't necessarily mean subsequent lanes will stop for you especially when the bicycles, scooters and tuk-tuks are taking advantage of the small whole you've created in the vortex of traffic causing an amazing cacophony of horns, which my driver said is not meant in anger at anyone. So, is road rage a cultural thing? Because several times I wanted to get out of the cab and scream "JUST STOP IT!!" But then I just closed my eyes and pretended I was on mr. toad's wild ride.

When I got back to the hotel, I went straight to the bar and threw back 2 cosmopolitans which have finally allowed me to unclench my hands from my purse and back pack long enough to get the key to my room out.

As I sit here, I hear the god awful symphony of horns penetrating the window of my room behind me and wonder, "exactly what time IS rush hour over?" That and the fact that it sounds like they are rebuilding the room next to me makes me think, "who really cares how much the liquor in the honor bar costs anyway?"