Local Transport

The next morning we were up at 5:15 to catch the six o'clock bus back to Phuket. Our plane left at 10:30 in the morning and we had to be at the airport half an hour beforehand to check our luggage. Figuring that we would catch the first express bus back, we would arrive at 8:30 a.m. with plenty of time to spare. Or so we thought...
When we arrived at the bus station, we inquired about the next bus to Phuket and were told by a man near the bus that it would leave at 9:00 a.m. My brain whirled. Nine o'clock?! There is no way we will make our flight! The bus schedule board says that a bus leaves for Phuket every hour on the hour beginning at 5:00 a.m. How can the next bus be at 9:00?! We've already spent two more days here than we'd planned; what were we going to do with another day?!

"9 o'clock?!" I burst at the man. "But the board says..." He cut me off with a quick, "oh sorry, sorry. Six o'clock. Six o'clock."

Relieved, I started breathing again and noted that while it was already 6:00 and there was no one on the bus and it most likely wasn't leaving any time soon, at least they were planning to leave before nine o'clock. After some urging from the driver, we boarded the empty bus and began our 30 minute wait, buoyed when the bus actually started up at 6:30 and began making its way out of the station.

We soon learned that this was not, in fact, an express bus that would take us 2.5 hours to Phuket, but a local bus that would make as many stops as possible to fill up to sardine-esque capacity and could take as long as 4 hours. Four hours from 6:30 put us at the airport exactly at 10:30, half an hour after they closed check-in for our flight and exactly the time our plane would be backing away from the gate and beginning to make its way to the run way. We each slightly made a vow of optimism and settled into our seats.

The bus began its journey at a crawl and didn't pick up speed until about half an hour into the ride. Each time the bus stopped to pick up another passenger, my brain screamed, "GO!!" While I refused to think of what we'd do if we missed the plane, I was on the edge of my seat, hands clenched, silently willing the bus to fly.

An hour later at 8:00 a.m., the bus slowed again, gave a few half hearted lurches, rolled over to the shoulder and shuddered to a halt. We were stuck. Anxiety rising, I told Steven that I was going out to the road and flagging down the next bus I saw.

Unfortunately, the next bus never came, and for an hour I stood on the side of the road, pacing back and forth, knowing hope was futile, but refusing to give up. Over the course of an hour, the driver coaxed the engine into action, only to have it sputter and stall again. Each time, passengers who had gotten off to wait on the side of the road reboarded and took their seats, only to climb right back off again. Finally, exactly an hour after we'd stopped, the bus roared to life again and we were again motioned back on the bus. Miraculously, the engine continued to purr and we were on our way again.

We had told the bus attendant numerous times that we were going to the airport, but I wanted to be sure that we were dropped off at the closest possible point so we didn't lose any more time. Steven had been dealing with the situation by following our progress on the map and timing our speed by averaging distance between mile posts. After another agonozingly slow leg, we realized that we weren't far and at 9:45, we had just 15 minutes to make it to the ticket counter. Seven minutes later, the attendant came over to us and said, "airport" motioning to us to get our bags. We moved to the back of the bus and got ready to jump out and run if need be.

When the bus stopped, I got out and Steven handed me our bags. As the bus drove off, we looked around disoriented and tried to make out where we were and how we were going to find our way to the airport. Luckily, a moto taxi driver saw our plight and waved to us from the other side of the road. We made our way across the four lane highway - with me almost walking in front of a bus in my rush to get across - and told him that we were trying to get to the airport. He nodded and said he would take us even though there were two of us with all our bags and there was no way we were going to both fit on one bike.

I told him that we needed another bike and just then, another man on a motorbike, this one not wearing the orange Thai taxi vest, pulled up beside us and motioned for Steven to get on.

A minute later, we were off, roaring down a small stretch of road passed a sign that read "Airport 3km."

At 9:55, we pulled up to the sidewalk, paid our drivers and made our way to the ticket counter. Handing over our passports, I held my breath waiting for the inevitable "sorry, but we've just discontinued check-in," but it never came. As the woman at the counter handed us our tickets, we looked at each other with huge grins and exclamations of disbelief. Twenty minutes later, we were seated on the plane on our way back to Bangkok where we could finally sit back, relax and revel in our amazing luck.