My early morning trip on the 'Super Deluxe Luxury Volvo Bus' was an education in the relativity of language and international market strategies. Volvo provided what may have been the most significant threat to the continuity of my neck and spine since they were prenatally joined. I guess 'Super Deluxe' meant that I would laid down horizontal immediately next to a stranger only on one side, our unfamiliar sides touching for 14 hours to Bangalore, rather than sandwiched between two strangers and suffering twice the humiliation!
Seeing this new definition of luxury, I protested and was given a "single" -- a makeshift board wedged between the rear wheel well and bus ceiling, with about 10" of vertical space and what looked like a hand-punched hole in the ventilation system for oxygen. I took it. An hour later, we stopped at a roadside cafeteria and I realized I had been jostled over every bump and pothole in these miserable Indian roads while passed out. "Volvo -- for life." The slogan rings with a new meaning to me.
Thankfully there was a regular seat up front and I suffered the remaining 12 hours of potholes, random chai stops and twice punctured tires a faint step closer to my definition of luxury.
Just one question: why do Indian seats recline too far? I've seen this on the most plush airlines all the way down to that evil Volvo bus -- the seat back falling ALL the way back, until it's basically under the chin of the next passenger. But instead of creating the classic domino effect, the next guy taps angrily on the offending shoulder of the recliner, as if to blame them for taking advantage of some design flaw, and insists they return the seat all the way upright! I guess it's a continuation of the perpetual negotiation for space that takes place in the big overpopulated cities, as if the space wars can't even rest in transit.
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