Buckle Up

I'm writing today from Chittagong, the second largest city in Bangladesh — with the traffic noise to prove it. Car horns here are a way of life, a feeble attempt to manage the constant flow of cars, buses, baby taxis and pedicabs that clog the streets.

Most of the horns are high-pitched and tinny, but the buses make up for it. Their  blasts are as long and deep as a fog horn. They're the tigers of the four- (eight-? ten-?) wheeled world, blowing down the narrow roads, scattering goats, dogs, people and any vehicle smaller than they are. 

Since no one minds sharing lanes, you're likely to see them barreling right at you, usually with a handful of passengers riding on top. Which is when I double-check the seat belt that I looked so hard to find. Ah yes, there it is.