Rickshaws

When I ride in a rickshaw I always seem to think it is worthy of blogging about. Tonight I tried to get a rickshaw to take me home, but none of them wanted to go my way. So I had to cross the horrible, crazy, suicidal road to catch one going the right direction. I waved and waved for one to stop. I saw many that were empty but for some reason they wouldn't stop. I start wondering, "Do I not know how to flag down a rickshaw?" I've watched people do it and I am doing what they are doing. "Am I in the wrong spot for them to stop?" Someone got picked up here just when I arrived after nearly getting run over crossing the street, so it has to be a fine place. "So what is the problem?" People stare at me. I wonder if I am doing something wrong or just a foreign woman. I wonder if they are thinking how silly I must be for not knowing how to get a rickshaw. My ego is crushed.

Finally I get one to stop. He doesn't know my area, but I tell him what it is close to. Off we go. But then he stops for gas. That must take another ten minutes. I sit in the rickshaw and delete messages on my phone, just to take up the time. It is finally our turn to get gas so I get out. For some reason I can sit in the rickshaw when the guy in front is gassing up, but when it is our turn I have to get out. So I walk to the other side of the gas station. I have learned to pay attention to what my driver looks like so I know which one to get back in. Off we go.

Then on our dark street, the driver stops and looks back behind us on the road. I think to myself, "Is he calling over his buddy to murder me?" But no, it is just a guy who needs to haul something big somewhere and is asking my rickshaw to do it after he drops me off. So the guy gets in the front seat with the driver and we continue on our dark street. No one tried to kill me and I arrived safely. Another successful trip to and fro.

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