Pulang

Getting home was crazy. Not that Indonesian streets aren't crazy anyway. It was night. Malam. I was riding shotgun with Dimas and we were heading home. There was traffic and a big grudgy yellow truck in front of us. The going was slow. Barely a crawl. Then there were kids. Dozens of kids and children, mostly boys running towards the truck. They mobbed it and began grabbing whatever they could to get aboard. Most of them made it inside the bed of the truck but some were still dangling off the sides when the truck started moving again. Some of the kids hadn't even gotten on and were chasing after the quickly accelerating vehicle. The boys were urging their pals on from the truck but they were going to fast. Me and Dimas passed by the rest of the bunch, most of them exhuasted after running after their friends. It happened so fast that I took me a little bit to make anything of it. But afterall, stuff like that happens everyday. Eventually its normal. Odd but not out of the ordinary. We go on, straight straight, under the overpass. And then, a rolling motorcycle in the middle of our lane. Dimas begins to try and turn but realizes its too late and straightens out the wheel. The helmet disappears under the hood of our car. Theres a thump from beneath but nothing else. We continue on. I look for the helmet behind us. I dont see it. Strange. Then we hear it, a kind of scraping sound from beneath my seat. We look at eachother. Could it? No...but..really? it keeps up. Dimas pulls over and I get out to check. Sure enough trapped under the car is the helmet, smashed to bits but caught on a pipe. I dislodge it from the car and we go on. Crazy. Almost home, Yasmin (our neighborhood) is in sight. Bam! A truck changes lanes suddenly and almost collides with a motorcycle, the driver of it braking just in time. The truck driver seems infuriated though and sticks his head out of the window yelling in Indonesian at the motorcycle. Damn motorcycles, hes probably thinking. They are reckless and crazy but then again, maybe the truck driver should have checked his mirrors before turning. We go on. We get home. I shower and do my homework. I fall asleep listening to the sounds of some Indonesian talk show. I understand a little but I'm too tired to care. That was tuesday evening.