A 5-day test

A bus that looked on the web like the one where women deliver burgundy wine, but actually had innovatively dressed women giving a porcupine a run for their hair do.

That bus, which already has a mild foul stench as a bonus over and above that dry a/c smell, gets worse. What with some enthusiastic teenager smoking marijuana inside the rest-room on the bus.

A bus driver who swears right into the PA system about an act that was god-sent to man for the sake of human reproduction, but has been reduced to webcams on the internet.

Your co-passenger, who looks like a barrel stuffed inside a pre-teens shirt, a tattoo trailing down from his elbow of some mythical animal, and rivals the aforementioned lady with his hairdo.

Missing the map of the city bus station and having to walk into a dark alley to enquire for the address, with two people in the shadow smoking under the lights with conveniently shrouded frames.

In a hurry to reach the airport on time,, noticing that your watch is slow and trying to fix it, only to squeeze it so hard and see your extra thin watch get decimated in your very hands. (sorry dad, it just caved in).

Airport and not wanting to use your credit in some rundown airport calling booth due to one of your multiple inexplicable paranoias, but still having to make that important call.

Airport and then realising that you dont have enough change for the telephone.

Airport and then running around for an ATM.

Airport and only later realising that you missed the paper with the telephone numbers right at the phone booth.

Airport and noticing the cleanliness-conscious steward clearing the place of all bits and pieces of paper, which includes your only source of information to reach out to the gang, thus completely lost in an alien continent in a sinful city.

Mile long traffic jams which take your plan, fold it into four, into eight, into sixteen and squeeze into the shredder.

Hunger and you see baked pork. Hunger and you see sauteed squid. Hunger and you see wild boar. Hunger and you see roasted turkey. Hunger you see noodles, only to hear the waitress inexplicably say that plain noodles might have chicken.

A chinese cousin of kothamalli chutney (coriander paste) gobbled up in inhuman quantities to subside the hunger, only to know that it is actually from a different house called Wasabi and is one of the most pungent food stuff around. Having your tears in the eyes and a strange feeling in the head as proof that you survived it.

A bunch of mobile phones which were no better than miniature bricks inside the canyon.

A television that sensationalizes hiking by screaming how people dehydrate themselves and drop dead while hiking, when you are trying to coax your friends whos last interest is to walk down a stony pathway in the afternoon sun.

Philosophical ramblings as to if it was sin city or skin city, what with the forehead clearly losing the race for the most exposed body part.

In between all this, there were two african-american good samaritans who staved off the temptation of "dark road-big bag-lost foreigner-sweet" and went on to call you "Chief", the water-volleyball in NYNY where you splashed water more than you did the ball, Funky photographs that were "made" to look natural, a hike down the trail that tired you ONLY because of the supplies you carried fearing dehydration than the actual hike itself, a meal that was almost breakfast-lunch-early snack rolled into one and most importantly as close to vegetarian as they could get at Dennys, a life saver called Burrito, Our constant companion who took a shower more than twice a day only to get screwed by Bull on the last day (take that thought away, i meant Moet Champagne, although pronounced cham-pa-kanee), Jimi Hendrix's guitar standing side by side with clapton's and harrison's at the Hardrock hotel and The Canyon - which so easily doubles up for The Perspective Vortex, letting you know that you are too small to be a even cog in the scheme of the universe and mother nature just needs the snap of a finger to call it quits if she wants to.

But above all this, there was my savior who saved me the pain of having to travel in a drug cartel again - Thagadu (next time, dont plan, just come there on time) , and there was my lightning partner, deputed to earth to reinforce the maxim "Size DOES NOT Matter, atleast not for a sense of humour " - Vish (remember to say "please" to the barmaid nextime, will ya??) , and the planner who planned right from breakfast on day #1 to dinner on day#5, but screwed up with the toothpaste - Bull (no more profile mugshots for you, you outran your quota), and last but not least, for lightening up the mood more than once - a certain Mohini Bharadwaj, whoever she is.

Yo Vegas. We were there and we made hell.