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Saturday, September 27, 2008

Bus Tales

There is a certain feeling of luxury when travelling. All those poor saps who are stuck working while you get to see new things and relax. Going on vacation is a ultimate way to repay ourselves for all the hard work we do the rest of the year.

Although I didn't go far, I was still on vacation. A mere hour and a half from home in the country visiting family I haven't seen in years. Kahlua in my morning coffee, a Martha Stewart magazine in my lap. Perfection! But then it was time to return to the hustle and bustle of everyday life in the city. So off to the bus depot I go. If I had to describe it in a word, that word would be dingy. The lighting was murky, the white tiles dirty and dated. The discoloured walls with random posters about bus regulations and festivals that happened two months ago, and a snack shop manned by an Emo teenager selling unappetising old pastries and hot dogs. Sitting in the plastic chairs, I spied my fellow bus riders. Long haired hippie kids, welfare moms, and rough looking guys. I decided to wait outside.

Finally it was time to board the bus. I couldn't help but remember that poor guy who was killed on a greyhound bus a few weeks ago. I decided that the agitated guy smoking a cigarette probably was the most likely murderer on the bus. He tried to use the pay phone, but slammed the phone back onto the hook, and stormed off. After finishing his smoke he worked his way to the back of the bus. I chose my seat at the front. Safer.

The first 45 minutes went along very well. I wondered about the cute guy sitting behind me, but decided that no good romance could ever start on a bus. But after a while I noticed that the driver was having problems. He couldn't figure out the lighting system inside the bus, he kept grinding the gears, it was dark, raining and we only had one headlight. A little later, I notice that people were concerned about something and were looking towards the front of the bus. I peeked over the seat and notice that the windshield was completely fogged up, so much so that I couldn't see any road at all. This was pretty distressing as we were on the freeway! The bus driver decided that his best remedy to the situation was to open the bus door while driving. The window cleared enough that he was able to get off the road. We spent the next 15 minutes waiting as the driver called for help.

What a relief it was to see the windshield cleared of fog. It was time to continue on our journey. But just a few minutes later the driver was on the speaker system asking passengers for directions as he had never been here before. We didn't make all the stops, because nobody could tell the driver how to get to them all. We drove one guy to his house and dropped him off rather than going to the station. Luckily, he was the only one getting off at that station. I can't help but wonder about the people who were waiting to get on our bus and it never arrived to pick them up. The upshot for me was that I got home so much faster. At my bus depot, the driver pulled into the bay and accidentally pressed the gas instead of the break nearly killing the people lined up to board the bus. I nearly fell onto the cute guy behind me. I laughed and apologised. He told me I was lucky I was getting off. No kidding!

Such a strange trip home. I'm not sure that I would recommend the greyhound as a good way to travel. The price was right, and it was very entertaining, but it certainly wasn't luxurious.

1 comments:

Karen said...

OMG, that's too funny, driving someone home in a bus. lol