You never saw this coming

Let me take you back to the time I, Thalia—an 11-year-old nature nerd with the innate capability to touch any plant in my vicinity and miraculously not get poisoned—embarked on what I now fondly refer to as “The Bus to Hell and Heaven.”

It all began with a flight. Not just any flight. It was the kind of flight that made us feel like celebrities, minus the paparazzi, plus 30 adrenaline-pumped teens ranging from 6th to 12th graders and at least one poor soul who brought a blow dryer to the mountains. (Spoiler: We never used it.)

We were headed to a whole different state for a leadership school trek. That meant we got to temporarily trade our math teachers for super-fit outdoor experts who could probably survive in the wild with only a shoelace and their will to live. These weren’t our usual “stop talking, open your books” teachers. These were “let’s go climb that! Hold on—we have a hundred waivers to sign, there’s no point, let’s just go!” types. I liked them. Mostly.

Now, I love nature. I thrive in it. Give me trees, trails, and the vague smell of moss, and I’m in my happy place. So, when they said it was going to be a proper hike, I was like: “Bring it.” What I didn’t say was: “Bring three water bottles, an emergency raincoat, four energy bars I’ll never eat, and a balaclava I will use exactly zero times.” Because somehow… I did.

My backpack—if you can even call the humongous 60-liter thing I had to strap onto my back that—had its own gravitational field. I basically had a whole house on my back. Still, I was way too excited to finally have this trip after waiting for months. I don’t think it really mattered to me.

I left on 11 October and returned on 22 October. I was a grade higher, so I was the youngest in my class and definitely the youngest on the trekking trip. It was optional, so not everyone came. From my grade, all the boys in my section joined, but the only girls were me, Yara, and Teisha. The rest of the crew? A whole bunch of students from the other branches of our school in two different Indian states. It was like a crossover episode of three completely different shows.

The moment we reached the airport at 9:30 a.m., we were buzzing with excitement. Some people were still reeling from the shock of leaving their parents, while others had packed like they were being permanently relocated. Especially this one boy who had so much luggage it looked like he was moving to the Himalayas.

We were all wearing our school T-shirts—dark green, collared, with an eagle logo on them. The only thing more tragic than the logo? The ungodly choice of jeans to pair with them to identify us at the airport. Who wears jeans on a flight?!

We got through security check just fine—except for the minor chaos caused by literally everyone forgetting to remove their flashlights, resulting in a flashlight confiscation spree. People were getting pulled aside left and right. It was a scene.

While we waited at Hyderabad airport, everyone made a beeline for food—Starbucks, Subway, and KFC. Me, Yara, and Teisha picked Subway (my personal favorite), and then we headed for Starbucks. That was where I learned something critical: geologists never stop talking.

This 40-50-year-old geologist decided we were his new best friends. I, being the polite kid, nodded along as he monologued about rock formations while we stood there, just waiting for our large brownie cold coffee. It was sweet—both the coffee and the man—but we never even finished the drink, despite two of us being avid coffee lovers.

We slipped away, and found the boys crowding around a vending machine. Calix, a boy from my class and a friend of mine, walked up to me with big puppy eyes and asked, “Can I get 30 rupees for a Coca-Cola can? I don’t have change.”

I blinked. “Not this,” I muttered, and called over Warren, one of his friends. I said, “Keep in mind he has to pay me back either after we go home or when he gets change on the trip.” They both solemnly nodded.

I sighed and handed over 30 rupees. We all watched as Calix put the money in, pressed the button… and the can got stuck. 30 rupees down the drain. Incredible.

We finally boarded the flight. Everyone was a frequent flier, so nothing really fazed us—except for the small issue of blasting music at the back of the plane and then collectively wondering, “Can you get kicked off a flight while you’re already in the air?”

Our destination was something called Jolly Grant Airport, which sounded more like a Disney character than an airport. From there, we hopped onto a bus for a one-and-a-half-hour ride to the resort. It was surprisingly chill. Everyone kept to themselves, plugged into their playlists and the sudden realization that this was actually happening.

We waited in a group as we were being checked in—of course, they kept the only 7th grade girls together, so the three of us were stuck as roommates for the rest of the trip. Best roommates to have ever.

We trudged up the stairs—because the elevator, just our luck, had stopped working a couple of weeks before—with our backpacks that weighed like bricks. After throwing our stuff into the hotel room, we headed upstairs to the top floor where everyone was gathered and where food was apparently going to be served.

We all immediately headed to the balcony, took some group pics, and sat near the bar with the missing bartender—the whole shebang, because it seemed like we booked out the two-floored hotel. Except when people were ding dong ditching and the people who were actually staying there were getting annoyed. LITERALLY—because the evening after we were set to leave, there was going to be a wedding.

We also got our bedtime rules that no one followed, obviously. We all had a quick dinner—some didn’t even feel like eating—and headed back to our rooms. And now this is where the fun started.

We all changed, took a shower, and sat on the bed. Yes, the singular bed—for the three of us. And to be fair, I’m pretty short, but both my friends were NOT.

We did the normal sleepover routine: gossip, talk about stuff. That was before I pulled out some mints I had brought. And us kids being kids, we acted like they were addicting and had a blast. We even cheered with them like they were drinks.

At 9 p.m., that’s when the Ding Dong Ditch fiasco started. After the night checks were complete and everyone acted asleep, people began ding-dong ditching EVERYONE—except us. We were peaceful. Until it happened for the fourth time.

We wanted REVENGE.

So, we waited for someone to ding dong ditch us again, and then chased after them—only to see someone hiding behind a wall who claimed they were being ding dong ditched too. They said it was the 9th graders.

So of course, we knocked on their doors. We had to confirm we were kids before they let us in, and then we saw the most shocking thing: they were having a full-blown pizza party. They ordered in without any staff noticing! Don’t know how they pulled it off, but it was definitely not them ding dong ditching anyone—they were fully invested in eating.

We went back out, and after running around in our pajamas for hours, we collapsed on the bed and talked until around 1 a.m.

And then—no joke—at 1 a.m., one of the boys, Calix (yes, Coca-Cola Calix), rang our doorbell. He wanted to borrow a charger. Yara, being the only one with a Lenovo charger, gave it to him.

But guess what? We went to the boys’ room, and it turned out they were the ones ding-dong ditching us! We figured it out at 1 a.m. and told them they were going to be exhausted if they stayed up gaming all night.

After all, we had an 8-hour bus drive the next day at 6 a.m.—meaning we had to get to the bus by 6 a.m.

We finally dozed off, and Yara, being the alarm-loving person she is, woke up moments before her alarm and woke both me and Teisha up. We changed out of our PJs, grabbed all our stuff—which was basically nothing since we barely stayed there a day—and did a thorough check before heading to the bus.

They went ahead of me because I wanted to fill up my water bottle, and what do I see? One of the 8th graders—Altair—still in his PJs, drowsy, and not carrying a backpack!

I rushed him to get out and helped him pack, along with two of his roommates—one of whom was basically done, but none of them were as unready as Altair. We sped downstairs and thankfully made it.

We named it “The Bus to Heaven and Hell” because, honestly, half the time two of the wheels were literally hanging off the side of the mountain, and the other half we were driving through a mist so thick you couldn’t even see the road. Very confidence-inspiring.

The moment I got onto the bus, we decided to share our mints and pretend they made us act drunk, just to see how everyone would react. Calix, always the ultimate over-reactor, took one and immediately acted like he was on a full-on sugar high, then chugged an entire soda bottle in about two seconds flat. There were no mints left after, like, the first 10 minutes of the bus ride.

Somehow, the news about our “drunk mints” spread to the teachers. One of them even teased us like,

“Give me one too, nah? I wanna see how good they are!”

We were dying laughing.

I ended up sitting next to Altair, and I think I made him regret all his life choices because I talked his ear off for like half the ride. (I am so sorry, Altair. Truly.)

Then Rhory said something monumentally stupid, and Altair got so annoyed he started roasting him, which somehow turned into a full-on roast battle between Altair, Rhory, and me.

The three of us were standing up in the moving bus, yelling at each other while the rest of the bus watched like it was the best live show ever.

Finally, we had our lunch break at this random sunny spot — God knows where.

And that’s when our luck went downhill again:

Problem #1: The packed lunches were…

Sandwiches

Cupcakes with chocolate cream (completely exploded and melted over everything)

The second everyone saw their food drowned in chocolate goo, they mysteriously “lost their appetite.”

Problem #2: There was this tiny “pond” — more like a murky puddle — and my best friend, Espen, spent the entire 20-30 minutes trying to convince me there were live fish in it.

Why? We’ll never know.

There was also a random mule tied up on the hill where we were sitting. Everyone was terrified of it — but me being me, I went up, gently pet the mule, and then suddenly everyone got brave and followed.

Rhory decided to name the mule “Juan” for no reason whatsoever. And somehow the name grew on all of us within five minutes.

I had brought paper soap (because I’m a trekker, duh), and everyone who used it acted like it was literal magic.

And just before we got back on the bus — surprise!

Rhory married Juan.

Yeah, no idea either.

Everyone dramatically said goodbye to Juan as we left — Rhory’s goodbye was especially emotional, like Juan was about to die.

The second part of the bus ride was a nightmare because Altair suddenly made everything a silent competition.

At one point, he said,

“Girls fall for me. I can make anyone fall for me just like that.”

And of course, I had to be like,

“Same here, buddy,”

because, why not?

Even something as stupid as standing up on the bus turned into a weird competition between us — both of us sneakily standing while pretending not to notice the other.

Finally, we reached our stay — two small two-story buildings and a cabin with a deck where we’d eat meals.

And the best part?

The second we stepped off the bus, a dog sprinted up to me, Teisha, and Yara.

His fur was jet-black and thick — such a handsome boy.

I immediately crouched down and gently pet him, and he happily walked around with us.

We ended up naming him Shoyu — after soy sauce in Japanese. It just fit him perfectly.

We were settling into our rooms when we found out the boys had downloaded this insect-identifying app and had officially become obsessed.

Also, somehow — somehow — the boys convinced the teachers to let seven or eight of them sleep in one room.

Bad idea.

Oh, and snow?

They found actual snow packed into a hole in their wall, even though all the snow had melted months ago.

Very hygienic. Very normal.

Suddenly, we heard a scream.

It was Avena — the only 12th grader on the trip — absolutely losing it.

Me, Yara, and Teisha sprinted over and found her frozen in fear because of a daddy longlegs spider.

Avena goes,

“You can throw a cactus at me, but I cannot handle spiders. Bring that thing any closer and I will scream forever.”

I tried to be the brave soul and slid a bucket over the spider… but Avena screamed even louder, demanding we just kill it.

So, Yara whacked it with a metal walking stick.

Except — it didn’t die.

Its body parts just started falling off one by one. Painful to watch.

At some point, we got tired and called in the boys, who started swinging at the thing with their own walking sticks.

I swear to you, at one point, its eyeball popped out, but it was still hanging onto life like some anime villain.

Finally, after like ten people fought it with metal sticks, it died.

RIP Daddy Longlegs.

You fought bravely.

We stumbled back to our rooms, and guess who was waiting?

Shoyu! Sitting so politely on our mat.

We collapsed onto the beds, absolutely dead.

Then there was a knock at our door — some dude shoves a black trash bag into my arms and sprints away faster than Jerry running from Tom.

I, still being a responsible person, decided to deliver it to its rightful owner.

I went around knocking on everyone’s doors except the 7th graders’ because… no thanks.

Finally, I reached one door — super annoyed by now — and just kind of threw the bag at the poor guy who opened it.

Except.

Shoot.

He was an 8th grader.

He looked at me like I’d thrown garbage at him (which, technically, I had), picked through the bag piece by piece, and sarcastically announced everything he found.

“Bottle.”

“Underwear.”

I was dying inside.

Trying to save myself, I quickly said,

“Isn’t there one more roommate? Can you ask him to check, please?”

So the other 8th grader went to call him.

And guess who walked out?

Altair.

In just shorts.

Nothing else.

He was clearly mid-shower, his hair dripping, phone still in his hand.

And there we were — both freezing, staring at each other for a full two seconds before I spun around in horror.

“Ey! What is she doing here!” Altair yelled.

And as if the day couldn’t get worse,

right at that exact moment, one of the teachers from across the courtyard shouted,

“Tell that boy he still has my nail clippers!”

I took a deep breath, knocked on the door again, and the 8th grader opened it, looking even more annoyed.

Before he could roast me, I blurted,

“The teacher needs her nail clippers!”

I could see Altair lounging in bed, STILL only in shorts, scrolling on his phone like nothing happened.

I grabbed the nail clippers out of the annoyed 8th grader’s hand and sprinted out of there like my life depended on it. We were sitting on the bed, talking about how thin the walls were in the resort when a mosquito started buzzing around. At first, we tried to ignore it, but it was relentless. I grabbed a book from the side table, stood on the bed, and began swinging it through the air. We were laughing hysterically, trying to hit the tiny vampire, but it just wouldn’t go down.

Our laughter filled the room, and we were so loud that we didn’t hear the door open. Suddenly, six boys barged in—yes, six—dressed in full hiking gear, with hiking sticks and all. They looked like they had come straight from a survivalist show.

Wilder, the most dramatic, stared at us with wide eyes. “We heard screaming! We thought something was wrong!” he said, looking alarmed. “We thought… burglars? Was someone attacking you?”

Espen, just as panicked, added, “I thought a bear was attacking you!” His voice was full of concern as if he’d been planning a rescue mission.

We all looked at each other, trying to hold in our laughter. “Thank you for your concern, but we’re fine. No burglars, no bears—just a mosquito,” we explained.

Their faces were a mix of confusion and disbelief. We couldn’t help but burst out laughing again. How did they jump to such wild conclusions?

As they realized how ridiculous they looked, they slowly backed out, mumbling about being on alert for wild animals. The door closed, and we collapsed back onto the bed, laughing so hard that breathing was nearly impossible.

Only the first 2 days and already unexpected adventures, and memories that last forever!