Vroom vroom, we survived out first taxi ride.

Picture a yellow 1950 Chevrolet Bel-air. Now take that scene, from whatever episode of Star Wars it was that Luke and Princess Leah were stuck in that confining room, and put the car in it. Squish it until it is half the size and you would have the taxi cab's in Calcutta. They are very childish and adorable for the eye to witness from far away, but as an eyewitness inside, I thought I was going to die, or at least pass out from the over load of carbon dioxide inside the vehicle. But I am writing to you, reader, from down an unlit alley way, in rainy humid Calcutta: I MADE IT.

Traci and I got a pre-paid taxi from the international airport in Calcutta to Sudder Street, the backpackers "mecca" in the city. We honestly had no idea what we were doing when we left the airport out into the street looking for an official to point us in the right direction. The only thing that was going through my mind was, "don't get scammed, don't get scammed!" I made my best attempt to follow what the other pre-paid-ers were doing as to give my ticket to the right person. But, as I would have guessed, we all got lost in the mass amounts of human bodies and thick rain. We somehow ended up in the compressed "bel-air." (Not to associate my nickname for the car with anything like the neighbor hood where Will Smith lived a posh life.) Our taxi cab was off to the races like really off to the races, the streets are a real race a race to stay alive. Someone said that drivers in this city honk a lot. I lost count of th 2-5 second honks after 63. That was about half way to our destination too.

The carbon dioxide really started to get to my head so I rolled down the window for some "fresh" air. What hit me next was a real surprise! A face full of very black diesel exhaust from the public bus, nice! :) The streets of Calcutta seem to have some invisible maze I can't see, which apparently, all the drivers can see.

At numerous intersections I smiled and grabbed my knees knowing were about to hit the fellow taxi next to us, but it was not it hit, it was just a love-tap, that's all...multiple love-taps.

Compared to the 120 kph driver's which plague Bangkok's city streets, our "Bel-air" barely started. I figured the reason for not jumping the gun at any green light was because our four speed taxi didn't have a first gear. It was et to start in second gear, which if it didn't get a love-tap from behind really had a hard time moving. Maybe that is the reason the cars are so compressed, they tap each other into overstuffed toy cars.

The taxi dodged innocent individuals in their helpless attempt to cross the street, the streets really will take no prisoners, only execute them. We stopped and started, bounced left than right, over bridges barely missing the hard working rickshaw drivers. Much was viewed on the ride from hell, but hardly comprehended. It all happened so fast.

Finally our Cab made it to Sudder Street. He said nothing, stopped the car and popped the trunk. I guess we had made it. Traci and I exited the taxi, sidewalk side, and grabbed our packs. Oh, forgot to mention, there were no safety belts, of course, why would one need them when the taxi's are so safe? What came next was really disconcerting. We had to cross THE street to really be on Sudder street. It looked impossible, but attaching ourselves to three little girls, leech style, we made it across the street. We had made it to the infamous Paragon Hotel in Calcutta INDIA!