Did you know that Brian is passive aggressive?

First: It is great to be back in Thailand. This place = good.

Back when I was in India, I rode a little public bus into the mountains. The roads in India, even when not careening along a mountain road, are subpar at best. Potholes, rocks, sporadic one lane sections, unpaved sections with that characteristic dirt rumble strip that somehow develops--basically not good. That is exposition piece number one. Number two: men in India (not unlike Thailand), are very touchy feely with other men, mostly because women are taboo. Men will cuddle, hold hands, and generally maintain a proximity which vehemently destroys the personal bubbles of Westerners.

I am on a twelve hour--bump--bus. We are just entering the mountains and the road begins--bump--somehow to become more tumultuous. An Indian man boards the bus and opts to sit next to this curious-looking white dude with the hair the color of an old man's, though there are plenty of empty rows. (Personal space breech.) We chat a conversation--bump--with limited depth, and shortly thereafter I resume an attempted tolerance for the heat and road which silence and spaced-out staring can only provide. I lean forward and rest my head on my arms, giving my back a little break. I sit up straight--ah, oh, oh god, there's an arm there--and I lean forward again. I think I should be able to sit back in my seat--ugh, these bumps--because it is my seat. I'll just lean back on his arm and he'll move. I lean back, now uncomfortably resting on his arm. He practically whistles for lack of care.

My annoyance builds. It is not the time or place to feel like dealing with this. For whatever reason, it seems absurd to ask him to move his arm, probably because no Indian would mind having this man's arm uncomfortably behind him. A minute or two pass with growing frustration. Although I may not stick up for myself (asking him to move), I am decidedly clever at times. Oh yeah, bump bump bump bump, ah, bump. I get an idea and implement it. Using the bus's propensity to seek out bumps to my advantage, I aim to cut off circulation in his arm. My right shoulder is located near his axillary artery, where the blood enters the arm in the shoulder. Now every bump is a slight but opportunistic increase in pressure on the artery, by jamming my shoulder into his. Bump--jam! Ha ha ha. I grin despite my discomfort. Bump bump--jam! A few minutes of this later there is significant pressure on his arm. He cannot be comfortable. And it's the waiting game. I hum a little tune.

Hummm Hmm Hmm Ba ba boopy. Hmmm.

There's some movement. Yes. An arm lifts, and a blonde traveler sits back comfortably in his seat. The man to the right shakes out his arm, as oxygen returns to the limb. The blond traveler returns to his silent staring, a little more pleased for the time being. The man doesn't say goodbye when he departs the bus later.