22 hour bus ride from hell

I'm in a rusty white pick-up truck. A Latino man is driving and I'm sitting in the back seat. He starts to back up. A police lady is directing him. She waves her hand, signaling him to back up, then gives the "stop" signal... but he keeps backing up. We are on a steep cliff and soon we find ourselves teetering on the edge. I start to panic. The driver keeps backing up. "What's wrong with this guy?!", I think hysterically. 

Soon I feel the weight of the truck shift. It slides down the rocky mountain. The tail end of the truck catches on the rocks and soon the truck is upside down in mid air. The roof is about to crash onto the ground, with us in the middle. Everything goes in very slow motion. At this point, I know it's the last second of my life. 

I will be smooshed by the weight of the truck. I feel an overwhelming amount of anxiety, yet an incredible sense of clarity. "I don't want it to be over yet!!! I'm not ready to die!!! This is so unfair!!! I have so much to do!!! This stupid guy just killed me!!", are the thoughts that run rampant in my mind. 
A millisecond before the truck crushes our skulls and snaps our necks, I wake up. 

I feel uncomfortable and anxious. I can't fall back asleep. I snuggle up to Dinh. I feel so grateful to be living. Wow, that dream really sucked. 
Do you know what sucks even more? Having the same dream a few nights later. 
It really bothered me and I wondered if there was an ulterior meaning to the dream. 

 About a week later, I find myself on a bus traveling from Lima to Cusco. 
Dinh is with, but only because I begged him to give the whole long bus ride thing another try. He didn't do so good on the 24 hour bus from Baños to Lima. I promised him this one would be different. 

The bus left promptly at 7 pm. I was totally prepared with plenty of snacks, water and entertainment. We had 22 hours between us and Cusco. 
Twenty-two long, dreadful hours. 

About 4 hours into the bus ride from hell, Dinh was muttering "This is the worst mistake of my life", over and over. 
I knew this could never be a good thing. 
I kept reminding him to be optimistic and that we can all choose our attitudes.
He was blessed with the motion sickness gene and was fully feeling the benefits of it. 

I was actually enjoying the ride. You can see so much more of a country when you travel by land. We traversed through multiple small indigenous towns, witnessing life that we would have missed otherwise. 

But Dinh didn't seem to notice any happenings outside. He looked like he was in a trance. I've never seen him this miserable. I patted his head with a cold wash cloth, offered him snacks, and tried to distract him. All of my attempts were in vain. 

As the bus ride progressed, the road got windier. The little girl behind me starting ralphing and her mom struggled to catch all the vomit in a little plastic bag. "Aye yai yai, niña", I heard the mom say. 
Like dominoes, more and more passengers became sick. You could hear multiple people throwing up in the rows behind us as their stomachs swayed from one side to the next. 

The "double decker puking bus" creeped higher into the mountains and into thinner air as the night progressed. I covered up with a blanket as the outside air dropped drastically. Night fell and I closed my eyes for a little rest. Less than an hour later, I was stirred awake from the strong pull of the bus from side to side. We were going through the mountains on a hairpin-turn road and we were being violently thrown from one side to the other. 
I didn't sleep much that night. 

I wiped away the fog on the window and looked out with tired eyes. My stomach turned as I looked down. Only a few inches stood between us and a very steep rocky drop. I saw a white wooden cross on at least every other turn, signifying that someone had died there. This road had taken many lives and I feared it would take ours. 

My reoccurring dream came to mind and my heart started to beat hard. So this is what it was trying to tell me! Our bus was going to go over a cliff and kill us! 
I sat in intense fear. It was the middle of the night and I was on a crazy train. I wanted so badly to make the driver stop. By the way, who was the driver?? Is he falling asleep?? Is he young and reckless?? I wanted to know!!
I didn't want to be a part of this risky business anymore!! I haven't even had the chance to be a mom yet!!!

I looked over at Dinh and watched as he stirred awake. Yikes, the motion sickness meds were wearing off! I thought that if he stayed drugged up he could make it through the miserable journey, but he was awake now. Even worse, he was threatening to get off the bus at the next stop. He was talking crazy and it was scaring me. He wasn't himself, at all. 
The bus would stop periodically for locals, letting them catch a lift to the next town. 

I started to worry about how I was going to take care of Dinh because he wasn't thinking rationally. He didn't even have a coat and there were big patches of snow outside. He would freeze to death out there! If I went with him, we would lose our bags that were piled underneath everyone else's bag under the bus. There was no way they would let us dig them out in the middle of the night, hanging precariously over the edge of a mountain. No siree!

The motion sickness meds were making him loopy. I decided I would have to physically restrain him if the bus came to a stop, like we do with psych patients that are on a 24 hour hold because they are a danger to themselves. Dinh was crazy at this point and I was his POA. I had a responsibility.
I was nervous for the next 3 hours straight. 
"Maybe you should take some more medicine?", I urged him, hoping he would zonk out again. 
"God, what I would give for some Phenergan right now!", I thought. That would knock him out cold and solve this nightmare of a problem. 

He eventually closed his eyes and went to a happier place for a while. 

In the morning, he started griping about how miserable he was again. I actually wished that he would have gotten off the bus the night before, because then I wouldn't have to listen to him. Ha.

Men.

The bus finally came to a halt the next day. I had not fallen to the same fate as in my dream. 
It felt like we had spent an eternity on that bus. We disembarked and enjoyed the freedom of walking and stretching our legs. Our bodies were mad at us for cooping them up for so long. 

Traveling through third world countries can be very unsettling at times. The safety standards are not anywhere near the United States. For all I know, the driver of the bus was drinking whiskey (which happens all too frequently in South America). 

Here it is.... THE bus

This bus journey was a turning point in the trip. Dinh swore to himself he would never put himself through this kind of punishment. He would never get on one of those miserable buses again. 
I could hardly blame him. 
Because South America requires frequent long bus journey, this meant it was the end of the trip for Dinh. 

But the show must go on!!! I will continue the trip on my own..... again. 

South America is for hardy backpackers, and I'm afraid to say, but Dinh just wasn't cut out for it. 

Word to the wise: if you are traveling from Lima to Cusco, for the love of GOD, fly instead of taking the bus. It costs the same and your life won't be in nearly as much danger. Your nonexistent children will thank you.