The soundtrack from Hell

I booked an VIP bus from Phonsavan to Vientiane, 11 hours overnight. VIP buses, and overnight buses, are a new phenomenon in Laos. I was assured it was the same as in Thailand, where the VIP buses are sweet.

There's usually a meal included. There's a movie, which you can bet is one of the worst ever made ("Meet Dave" anyone? "Death Race"?) But the kicker is that the seats almost fully recline. I have never been able to sleep on buses or planes but I can sleep on a Thailand VIP bus. It's about as comfortable as you can expect to be on a 12-hour bus rie.

The trip didn't get off to a good start. My guesthouse bought me a ticket for the wrong bus. They took me to the bus station at 7 a.m. for a beatup local bus that didn't leave until 10:30. That meant I would have to wait for over three hours to then sit on a really uncomfortable bus for 12+ hours.

I decided to eat the cost of the ticket (only $13, I think) and bought a VIP ticket. I took a tuk-tuk back to the guesthouse. I thought I had been scammed. But the owner was visibly upset, which you just don't see in Southeast Asia. One thing I hear travelers complain about a lot is how people in Southeast Asia smile too much. As Dave Barry would say, I swear I am not making this up. Too much smiling. How awful...


Anyway, he bought the ticket himself the night before and the departure time was 7:30 a.m. They changed the departure time that morning!

I asked him if I could use the room for free until I had to leave and he said OK. I took a nap in my frigid room and watched whatever movie happened to be on HBO. He paid for my tuk-tuk back to the bus station that night. It was a wasted day, but at least a comfortable one.

The bus was supposed to have a toilet. There was no toilet. I was supposed to get a "moist clean towel" (a wetnap). There was no towel, moist, clean or otherwise. I was supposed to get a free meal. We stopped at 1:30 a.m. at a restaurant for a free bowl of noodle soup. I normally don't turn down free food. It's almost a religious belief with me. But I was not in the mood for noodle soup at that hour.

And I should note there were two women running the restaurant with a staff of perhaps a dozen girls, none of whom could have been older than 12. So when your kids complain about doing their homework or eating their peas, tell them they could be slinging noodles to grumpy, sleepy tourists at a roadhouse in Laos.

One other key point of note with VIP buses is that seats are bought in advance and assigned. They do not stop and pick up passengers along the way.

About an hour into our trip a little old Lao lady flagged down the bus. They let her on. There were no seats so they gave her a plastic stool and a cushion. They were prepared, so apparently this happens a lot.

I was one of three tourists on the bus. The other two were in the middle of the bus. I was in the third row. So of course they put her next to me.

One reason buses didn't run at night in Laos is because the roads are bad. (And we drove through long stretches were there was no electricity, or at least no lights.) The surfaces have been improved but they're still windy roads through the hills.

How am I supposed to sleep with an elderly woman perched on a plastic stool in the aisle next to me, clinging to my arm rest as the bus swerves through the turns? For ten hours?

None of the Lao men offered her a seat. I considered giving her mine, but if I were to sit there all night after two back surgeries my adventure would probably be over. I would get off the bus and go straight to the hospital.

But I knew there was no way I was going to be able to relax, so I was just about to offer her my seat (honest) when a Lao man came up and spoke to her. She picked up her stool and headed to the back of the bus.

Whoo. Now I could relax.

Not so fast.

Normally on the big buses the cockpit is separated from the bus by a door. Not on this bus. There were three teenage guys "helping" the driver with tickets, luggage, etc. They also chose the entertainment for the evening.

I thought the movies on Thai buses were bad. But I had never seen a DVD of Lao pop karaoke.

My friends, when I die, and I'm surrounded by eternal hellfire, drinking warm flat beer with George Bush and Michael Vick, this is the music that will be blasting through the speakers.

Some of the songs feature actual, you know, instruments, but most are just a young girl singing over an electric piano and electric beatbox. There's an SNL skit in there somewhere, because virtually every song features a cowbell.

Finally, at about 1:30 a.m. they turned off the TV in the bus. But they kept the sound on! So now I had to listen to the awful racket without the benefit of being able to look at the cute Lao girls singing it.

If it had been a tourist bus I'm sure I could have rallied the troops to get the music turned off. But there were only three tourists, so I suffered in silence. Maybe it was their revenge on me for the Secret War.

At that moment I looked back towards the back of the bus, where I saw the Lao knight in shining armor, the guy who had rescued the elderly woman from the stool next to me, sound asleep. In his comfy reclining seat. And the poor old gal sitting on the stool next to him, wide awake.

Apparently neither of us slept a wink.