Near Death Experience

Okay, I wasn't actually near death this week. That's a gross exaggeration. But I will say that my particular choice of transportation proved less sturdy in the end than I would have thought.

On paper, what's a safer way, really, to get from Boston to New York City other than a big, lumbering Chinese-mafia sponsored bus? You're on firm ground the whole time, no one on the road is going to mess with the Chinese mafia, and anything the bus hits will obliterate that, not the bus. Little chance of danger here, one would think. Oh, except for being ENGULFED BY FLAMES. (See photo.)

My shiny Fung-Wah bus left South Station, Boston for New York at precisely 9:00 am on Tuesday, August 16 (those mob types are meticulous about punctuality), whereas the bus destined for fireballs left a few hours later. (See Boston Globe description of "frightened passengers scrambling" to escape what quickly became a "charred mess.") Let's just say I'm glad I didn't sleep in that morning like I wanted to--timing apparently was important that day. To be frank, there were enough hazards lingering in the putrid bus "bathroom" that I regrettably used en route New York to make me truly thankful when I arrived in the city in one piece and unsinged, not to mention with no visible signs of venereal disease. Add it to the ranks of the airplane, the train, and the automobile--even the bus isn't a sure thing anymore. The morale of the story: don't travel.

Of course I'm not serious. Traveling is a must. But for people who fear plane travel, or who consider rock-climbing, water-skiing, and driving in third world countries to be unnecessary dangers, just remember: really, nothing is safe. In the meantime you might as well live it up while you can.

My mother and grandmother, long before I was born, once took a trip to Europe to soak up some culture and see the sights. At the Vatican, a crazy gunman shot up Michelangelo's "Pieta" they had been to see the day before. The week after they took a picturesque train ride through the Swiss countryside, the long tunnel their train traveled through collapsed. At every step of the trip, catastrophe and danger followed them--but just a wee bit too late. Which brings me back to timing, which in the end is what we really have to fall back on. You can't stay home (that's plenty dangerous too, actually) and you can't live in fear, so the only thing to do is to take the dirty bus, get on the rickety puddle-jumper, and when you arrive safe and sound, as you most likely will, let out a small sigh of thankfulness and enjoy your destination.