Street-Crossing a New Thai Sport?

Crossing the road in Thailand as a pedestrian should be a national sport. It is intense, adrenaline-packed action with definite winners and losers, the latter of course a heavy underdog. I'll describe the teams and the typical match.

On one team you have powered motion. In Thailand they've found a way to fashion an engine to anything that has wheels, and the wheels vastly outnumber the walkers. On the defensive side of this team you'll find the average car driver, which is the most docile and forgiving of the wheeled participants. They'll brake and slow down, not without irritation, but generally they'll let you get through.

Just up the field we meet the uniquely Thai tuk-tuks. To those unfamiliar with the tuk-tuks, it is essentially a 3-wheeled taxi that looks like a Shriner's car on steroids. Basically, it is a battery, (bolted down on the floor panel by the driver's left foot) a two-cycle engine, a fiberglass frame, and a windy love seat in the back. Of course there are metal railings above to hang on too, and when sitting on the edge, it is a requirement. As a passenger you get the nauseating equivalent of a mild-hangover if you try looking at the speeding ground below; the motion and the diesel fumes from the exhaust mix together in a potent combination. Riding in tuk-tuks is generally safe and fun, but as a pedestrian these guys don't screw around. To them you're either a fare, at which point they'll slow down and ask "tuk-tuk" in a compressed clucking, like a choking squirrel, or else they already have a fare and will regard you as an impediment to getting paid. They're nothing though, in comparison to their heavyweight counterparts and the offensive side of the wheeled team.

Most of the taxis here are light, fast-streaking Toyota's that disregard most, if not all, elements of personal and public safety. Andretti would be proud of these boys. They're quick and aggressive, finding holes in traffic that I'd be scared to ride a bike through. They show no fear and bolt past pedestrians at full speed. They only slow down for walls and semi-tucks. Riding in one is like playing Russian roulette because you're either lucky or crazy. I will admit, though, that not all taxi drivers are crazy. Some, mostly older gentleman, drive like they're late to an important meeting that's not quite important enough to die over, but still it's business, you understand. Also, there are some slow taxi drivers who love to chat with you. They'll even drive you to your destination for an incredibly low price or even for free. The catch, you have to visit their "sponsors" store. Mostly these are men's tailor stores and go-go bars who pay off the cabbies in free gas coupons in exchange for bringing tourists in. Most of these guys are young and speak a little English. Obama is a typical topic of conversation these days. Fortunately, you don't have to buy anything you just have to look. If you're not in a hurry this really is the way to go, as I've gotten across Bangkok, in rush hour traffic (pretty much all day) for about a $1.50.

Moving into the middle of the field we have the motorbike gangs who zing in and around traffic, ignoring white lines and even sidewalks. More than once I've been pushed up against a store wall by a motorcycle coming at me, (in the opposite direction of traffic of course) because let's face it who wants to go up a block to the next light to make a U-turn. At least on the sidewalks they drive slowly, but only because they know they're outnumbered and deep within enemy territory. Also, in Thailand, motorbikes seemed to be the preferred method of travel as they're cheap, light, and efficient, so they flock in vast hordes like angry, late birds.

In this same category are the offensive mid-fielders the motorcycle taxi. These guys are the ones to really watch out for because they can make some dangerous runs. I've had a couple of expats and a Thai tell me that it isn't uncommon for these (mostly young men) drivers to be drunk. I wouldn't know, I haven't gotten close enough to smell their breath. Watching them, they're reckless with their passengers, but in a pinch they're the quickest and most agile of the wheeled team.



Finally, we have our bi-pedal participants. We are armed only with cunning ingenuity and the ultimate prize for winning, our lives. And so the game begins:



You step up to the curb, the old schoolboy mantra pounding in your head "look both ways before you cross." As a Westerner you inherently look right first. This is fatally wrong. Traffic comes from the left here, but don't worry if you forget, several horns will remind you as you step off the curb without looking. So, you must re-train your brain. You look left. The motorcycle army screams past, some just inches as you feel their breeze and taste their diesel carbon. After they pass you make your first move. In the center lanes motorcycle taxis and tuk-tuks scream past. One tuk-tuk stops, thinking you're a fare. "Tuk-tuk" he clucks, cars slam on their brakes behind him. "No thank you," you yell slipping past, into the next lane, grateful for the hole. The metal river of cars parts around you and you're stuck. Can't go back, can't yet go forward because of the taxi Nazi's who just won't give up. Cars honk and swerve around you but still that last lane is being held. After a few interminable seconds you see that slight hole, and make a break for it. The trick you realize is that sometimes you just have to be crazier than they are. And, with a suppressed anger you turn, smiling at the cabby shaking his head. You see him nod, and give a wry smile, as if saying, "Next time, my friend, next time." As you turn, your glory is always short-lived because you still have five more lanes to go. Just the same but from the opposite direction.