Never Trust a Bus Driver- Part Two

Bitterly, we boarded the second bus a few hours later. Erik and I settled in to the seats directly behind the driver, our valuables nestled close to us, determined not to let ourselves be duped again. We slept sporadically through several movies until we were abruptly woken by shouting.

"Everybody! Check your bags! Check your bags!” A Swedish man was calling up the aisle to us. We have 15,000 baht (US$450) missing! Check all your bags!"

"What's happening?" I drowsily turned to Erik.

"They're missing money. Check your bag."

The Swedish man was walking up and down the aisle checking with each person. His face contorted in bewilderment and rage. While I shuffled through the bag on my lap and found that everything was accounted for, I noticed the bus driver, his accomplice, and the sleeping ten year old boy all seemed to be oddly undisturbed by the commotion.

"What happened?" Erik calmly asked the Swede.

"We have been robbed! My girlfriend is missing her passport and 15,000 baht. Another is missing 13,000!" he said frantically, perspiration highlighted from the dome light of the cabin and panic flashing in his blue eyes. One of the passengers had woken to a rustling at her feet, only to find the bus driver's accomplice going through peoples’ bags as they slept.

With the anger growing among the passengers like an active volcano, courage also grew, and with the backing of his fellow travelers the Swedish man erupted, deciding to confront the bus driver.

"You stole my money! Where is my 15,000 baht? I want my money back! Now!" he demanded behind the driver’s seat.

The Thais pretended not to speak English, quietly shrugging off the uproar. The Swede began pleading, begging and yelled again. Finally fed up with no response from the Thais, he sulked back to his seat to confer with the rest of his group.

Erik and I sat in our front row seats, shocked by the whole ordeal. My pulse was racing. What’s going to happen? I looked from the back of the bus to the front; tensions were high. Interested in what the Thais were doing, Erik leaned over the divider, spying on the driver and his accomplice.

"They're on the phone, whispering!" he reported to the rest of the bus. "Call the tourist police. Have them meet us at the bus station. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

A look of determination came over the Swede and he marched, one guy with him as backup, to the front of the bus once again.

"That’s it! Pull over the bus!" he demanded. "We want our money back! Stop the bus! Stop the bus!" he shouted, his voice now raised to a deafening roar. The Thais responded this time, barking back at the Swede to sit down and be quiet. Erik was leaning over the rail watching the whole thing as I sat back in fear. This continued back and forth, each party getting louder, arm gestures increasing with violent suggestion until the yelling came to a disturbing climax.

"SIT DOWN! You see?! You SEE?!" The bus driver and his accomplice yelled to the two men.

Erik slowly leaned back. "He just pulled out a gun," he whispered to me as the Swede and muscle walked back to their seats. "It was right in front of me! A revolver like thing. He just pulled it out, right in the guy's face."

"What?" I asked is disbelief. "Holy shit." That was the end of us having any chance of reclaiming stolen property. Can't really argue with a gun, can you?

The hushed bus bumped quietly along, the passengers exchanging wide-eyed, nervous glances. The sun was just beginning to crest in front of us, the wet smell of morning coming in through the cracked windows. All of a sudden, the continual bumping changed its rhythm; we had turned onto a dirt road in the middle of nowhere.

Oh hell, what now? Were they going to execute us? Dump us? What could they possibly be doing with a bus load of foreigners in the middle of nowhere and especially, after an altercation? I recalled the woman in the Tokyo airport, her wild hair matted to her neck, who told me about the bus massacre in southern Thailand before we arrived here. A group of militants had overtaken the bus and pulled off all the tourists, killing each American they found. I dismissed it at the time. An obvious scare tactic from an older, gullible tourist who had eaten up every word she was told. Now? Well, now I was a bit concerned.

The bus jerked to the side and we were ordered out. As we all shuffled off the bus, half a dozen men came out of the bushes — shady Thai dudes, all grizzly and big — emerging from the dust and dirt of Nowheresville.

They shoved our bags into our arms while shouting destinations at us, Phuket! Samui! Trang! At our answer, they ushered us into the corresponding songthaews. We rode crammed together, one on top of the other, three people clinging to the back railings and hanging off, and several inside, all of us in stunned confusion and terror. Where were we going? All the way to Phuket like this?

We ended up getting dumped at the real bus station — which the robbers understandably wanted to avoid — and plopped onto another bus. A nice government-run bus. We rode that bus all the way into Phuket, short a camera and some trust, a little frazzled, but hey, at least we weren't shot.

Lesson learned:Private companies suck.