Jun 2nd, 2001
The Sri Lankan
I met the Sri Lankan on a tour bus that was taking us to a number of temples around the city. He was a youthful looking 36-year-old man with a pointy nose and glasses, which for some reason gave me the impression that he was an accountant. As it turns out, he was a factory inspection agent.
I told him that I was heading to Sri Lanka after I left Bangkok and we immediately began talking. He had a very thick accent that made it difficult to understand 100% of what he was saying, but I did my best. I soon found him to be a very amiable person who insisted that I get a hold of him when I arrive in his country.
When the tour had ended and we were heading back to our respective hotels, he asked me if I had noticed his limp. I answered in the negative and he pulled something out of his jacket pocket: It was a picture of a white Peugeot that was so mangled it looked like a crushed soda can.
He told me that a train had smashed into his car, which contained his 2-year-old daughter, his pregnant wife, his son-in-law, and himself. Miraculously, his daughter and wife survived, as did the fetus in his wife’s womb. His son-in-law died instantaneously.
He told me that if he had been driving a Japanese car with the steering wheel on the left, instead of a European car with the steering wheel on the right, it would have been him that died instantaneously.
