Snippets from Abroad 002

Waiting for the bus:

It's been over forty-five minutes I have been waiting here for a Bus with the number 47 to come by and take me to where I can shower, sleep, and recuperate from the pressing, humid heat of the day. Sometimes, three buses in a row, all bearing the same, wrong number come by, as if to mock me that, yes, this city is dying from cardiac arrest in its traffic-veins every night but there is motion there, just not the one I need. So I decide to go but then see two other foreigners, girls stacked with shopping-bags, come by, argue with a taxi driver, then say something along the lines of "or we could wait for the bus", laughing at the obvious impossibility of the joke, and then getting onto one of the waiting TukTuks, those carrion-sharks of the streets that are circling the area, waiting for customers/prey. Well, as I have a smug sense of superiority to defend infront of myself, my only option is to keep waiting, then, for the number 47 to arrive...