Regular readers of this column will know that I've written before about my intense hatred of anything road-related in Bangkok. But since it would be silly of me to assume that anyone remembers what I write - or reads anything I write - let me elaborate.
Whether I'm a passenger who just wants to safely reach my destination or a pedestrian trying to accomplish absurd, gravity-defying acts like crossing the street, there's something about me that makes drivers think, "Hey, she looks like the adventurous type! Let's drive completely erratically and maniacally so she can experience the adrenaline rush of seeing her life flash before her eyes!"
To put that into perspective, I think I would prefer being a sex worker with a life-threatening disease who resides in a soggy cardboard box with a family of mutant rats, than ever having to deal with the motorised death-traps that have often gotten thisclose to making street squash out of me.
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