Hell’s Museum was 12 stops away on the 51 bus.
I was waiting with precise instructions written in my notebook: The bus ran every 15 minutes; the ride would take 16 minutes. I’d mapped out each turn so I’d be able to guess when to press the “stop” button: right, right, slight right. I fanned myself uselessly against the 70% humidity of the Singaporean afternoon and hoped nothing would go wrong.