Kidnapped! Almost.

Last Saturday we went on the local Bangalore tour offered by the Karnataka State Travel Agency. This was a half-day tour, starting at 2 p.m. or so. It was a ton of fun. But we almost didn’t get to go on it.

When the tour started, we hadn’t had lunch yet and we were starving, so we decided to ditch the first stop, a self-guided tour of the science museum. We had one hour, from 2:15 to 3:15, to find a restaurant, eat, and return to the bus before it left for the next site. As we stepped off the bus and debated where we could find food, a gentleman approached us and offered his friend’s driving services. For Rs10 the friend would drive us to a nearby, recommended restaurant, wait for us, and get us back to the bus on time. What a timely stroke of good fortune! We readily accepted the deal.

Woe unto those who accept too-good-to-be-true offers from people who approach you at tourist sites.

At 2:20, we hopped into the backseat of the nearby auto rickshaw. The driver was a clean-cut, older gentleman sporting a white, crocheted skull cap atop his graying locks. From his hard-to-understand accent, I picked out that he had been an auto driver for 25 years, he promised the return trip would only be 10 rupees so he wouldn’t use the meter, and something else about his company.

Any apprehension that we were about to be snookered died away anyway when the driver pulled up to the Empire Hotel, about a 5 minute drive away from the museum – maybe six big blocks. The 3-story restaurant was packed with people. By the time we ordered, we had 45 minutes left before the bus would leave. The waiter assured us that the meal would come quickly – and quickly it came. Unconcerned about time now, we both thoroughly enjoyed the “Executive” platter: a rice, bread and curry meal that fed us both for just under 2 dollars. At 3 p.m., with full bellies, we waddled (well, I waddled) back to the street.

We had left a good 15 minutes time cushion to get back to the bus. As promised, the auto driver was waiting across the street. We still hadn’t paid him, and as we hopped in he said that same thing about his company and something about 5 minutes. We thought he meant he had to stop by his company to grab something. This is when we started to get a little uneasy. We emphasized that our bus was leaving at 3:15 … if he needed to run an errand, ok, but he needed to make sure we could get back to the bus in time. He promised it would only take 5 extra minutes. He didn’t seem to think this extra errand of his would be a problem. I did, though, when he started driving further away from the museum, thus extending our return trip time. He went around a couple turns and then pulled into a parking lot. It was 3:07. By now it was pretty apparent what he wanted us to do. The idea was for us to step inside this store and look at their wares (and buy some, too, of course). With the bus leaving in 8 minutes, and us more than 6 blocks away from the museum, it didn’t take us long to emphatically refuse further services.

Briton thrust a 10 rupee note at him and we began running (uh, scurrying) back to the bus. Once we found our way back to the main street, I’m not kidding you, but every rickshaw was already taken. We started running while looking for available ones to drive by. Nothing. Then we had to turn onto a one-way street, traffic going against us. We were going to have to run the remaining 4-5 blocks on foot.

With the sun beating down and with bellies full of carbs and curry, we weren’t under the best conditions for a workout. It was quickly obvious, too, that at my preggo pace [was that two pasta sauces in a row?] I wasn’t going to make the distance in time. So we made a split-second strategic decision: Briton sped ahead to see if the bus would wait an extra couple of minutes ‘til I got there.

What a sight we must have been! Safari-hat Briton flying down the street. Red-faced Robin several blocks behind, arms pumping back and forth, in hot pursuit. I passed one group of men sitting on a shaded, roadside park bench who must have watched with some amusement when Briton, then myself hurried past them. Another block down a guy charaded that he had seen a running Briton pass him by moments before. When I got closer to the museum, I could see Briton in the distance waving his hands at me to slow down (not that I was going that fast). He had made it. It was 3:15 on the nose.

When I puffed to a stop, there was just time enough before the museum stragglers boarded, for me to shake my fist at the sheepish looking gentleman who had approached us at the beginning, and was still hanging out by the museum. OK, I didn’t really shake my fist. But he probably figured what had happened when we showed up on foot, without the driver.

As I write this, I realize Saturday was April 1st. So, you have to give them credit, anyway, for a first-rate April Fool’s joke.

But joke or no, let that be a lesson to all of you. Eat lunch before you go on ½ day tours.