Travel How far does something have to go before you realise that your own personal safety is more important than getting from A to B? When Michele Jenkins and a friend caught a taxi in India, the situation slowly but surely began to run away from them:
"Uh, I get air for the car." Air? There wasn't any gas station for blocks. Was he going to suck up a lungfull of dust and blow the tires up himself ? He disappeared into one of the unlabeled doorways and I sat back in a huff. I'd woken up that morning looking forward to an exciting day of tramping around Mougal ruins, not sitting in the back of a hot car in a grubby part of town.
Surprisingly, he was back out in just a moment, but with a big brooding guy in tow. The Big Guy got in the driver's seat and our driver, no longer driving, hunched down in the passenger seat dwarfed by his companion and stared intently out the window.
"Uh, so, who's your friend?" I asked our guy.
"Yes, he is friend," he echoed without looking at me.
"Yeah, but who is he?"
"He is the car owner, he comes with us." His whole manner had changed. His 'friend' seemed to make him nervous and distant. The Big Guy still hadn't said a word to us and now the rickshaw boy clammed up as well.
I'm with Michele -- sometimes acting up is the only way out ... what is that smell anyway?

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