If You Look Like Your Passport Photo, You're Too Ill To Travel

If you look like your passport photo, you're too ill to travel - Will Kommen

Day 2 - Day 4.......

Destinations - Columbia (MO) - Boonville (MO) - Kansas City (MO) - Lawrence (KS) - Topeka (KS) - Junction City (KS) - Salina (KS) - Hays (KS) - RS Colby (KS) - Denver (CO) - Idaho Springs (CO) - Frisco (CO) - Vail (CO) - Glenwood Springs (CO) - Grand Junction (CO) - Green River (UT) - Richfield (UT) - RS Cove Fort (UT) - Cedar City (UT) - St George (UT) - Las Vegas (NV)

2.15pm -We're barely into our severely delayed journey to Kansas City and we make an impromptu stop. The driver says it's because there's dangerous wind and something about a tornado. He then uses the restroom on the bus and someone makes the inevitable comment about the source of the dangerous wind. I seriously want to click my heels three times at this point.

2.45pm - I guess when you live in the state of Vermont where billboards are banned, just one billboard on the side of a road is enough to get your attention but I swear, I've never seen as many as I have in Missouri and they're quite the collection. Burger King's claim to have the world's largest indoor Burger King playground grabs my attention. Sadly it's not one of our designated stops.

2.55pm - While Columbia, Missouri may have the world's largest indoor Burger King playground, Columbia also wins the award for the scariest looking transit center yet. It looks like a tool shed in the middle of a desolate industrial area and people are smoking like it might be their last cigarette. It's also still very windy.

4.15pm - We pass an illuminated roadside message that says 'try Amtrak for a change' adding insult to injury.

5.00pm - After what feels like an eternity, Kansas City looms on the horizon. Nerves start to kick in over what awaits me given the St Louis delay. We’ve been told the bus we’re on is going to continue on to Dallas but you don’t have to be a mechanic to know that the transmission issue is well, still an issue and Rick and I both suspect that this bus isn’t going anywhere.

I’m the first in line at the terminal and I’m greeted by a very unsympathetic staff member who tells me that I will not be leaving Kansas City until 11.40pm putting me in Vegas at 6.30am.

I think it should be mandatory that all Greyhound staff travel cross country and experience what it’s like to spend a few days on a bus without the creature comforts of home.

That way, when they interact with customers who look more like Nick Notle’s mug shot than themselves, they adopt a more empathetic approach to those who face unexpected and unplanned delays.

The words ‘understand’ and ‘sorry’ do not figure in the exchange between me and this woman who, when I question why they told me in St Louis that I would be in Vegas at 2.30am, responds with ‘well they should have fixed your ticket there then and you’ll have wait to talk to the supervisor at 8.30pm’. It's 5.30pm.

I attempt to shake my anger out through my shoulders and neck and watch in horror as my fellow passengers receive similar sentences.

The advantage to this debacle is that for the first time we actually know how long the delay is and what time the buses are leaving so Rick and I decide to stash our bags in a locker and head downtown. We’re joined by a strapping elderly gentleman (think Sidney Poitier) who I think is named Azreal but before I get a chance to clarify this, Azreal is off chatting up some fellow pensioners.

As we wait for Azreal to finish charming the ladies, I notice a new staff member at the service desk. I ask if she’s a supervisor and while she doesn’t confirm her position she does see a bus to Vegas at 2.30am, one that leaves Kansas City at 12.40am and just like that order is restored and I’m re-ticketed.

With his future social calendar locked in, Azreal returns and this most unlikely trio strolls towards the city skyline, simultaneously grateful for the opportunity to see a city on our journey all the while quietly seething about our respective delays.

The thing I find most odd about Kansas City is that it’s in Missouri, not Kansas. I’m reliably informed by the Princeton professor that there is a Kansas City in Kansas but it’s nowhere near as nice. You’d think Kansas would work on that.

We find ourselves walking through the ‘law enforcement’ part of town first where the typical array of courthouses and government buildings proliferate. That leads us down to the ‘Power & Light’ district, the rejuvenated downtown area which is an inviting blend of restaurants and bars and has a very cool marketplace reminiscent of Whole Foods, minus the over the top prices.

It’s here that we get our first normal meal in what feels like a week and while Rick and I fill up on salad, fruits and other nutritious items, Azreal opts for BBQ chicken and the fixin’s. You just know that this is what I imagine the array of women in his life have prepared for him over time. Don’t hate the player, hate the game.

Three dollars only buys you 3 hours of time in a locker so we wind our way back to the transit center and are momentarily confused by the highway overpass (we don’t remember it being there on the way downtown). Bearings back in place we arrive back to the transit center to discover nothing’s changed.

11.20pm – I bid goodbye to the Princeton professor and the player as they reboard the busted bus for Dallas. I’ve only known them for a short time but I’m sad that our collective journey doesn’t end in Vegas.

I’m also sad because now I’m on my own, leaving me at the mercy of the random strays who’ve started circling me looking for change and company. Yes, the balance truly has been restored.

12.40am – Wouldn’t you know it. For only the second time in 3 days, I am on a bus that has power and wifi. And for the second time, the journey leg starts at a time when one must sleep. At least my computer will be charged by the time we get to Denver because I’m guessing the last bus won’t have the mod cons.

7.30am - I awake to the sound of restless passengers. A night sleeping in close proximity to strangers has taken its toll and everyone wants to get off the bus, stretch and eat.

8.00am - Burlington, CO – restlessness is quashed as we pull into McDonald’s in Burlington. It’s the second time in 2 days that I’ll eat fast food first thing in the morning. I feel my insides yelling out for nutrients, the likes of which will not be gleaned from a sausage mcmuffin.

I also have the chance to brush my teeth and freshen up. The reflection in the mirror is slowly morphing more and more into Nick Nolte's mug shot and there's little I can do to remedy it.

8.30am - My disdain over my breakfast and appearance dissipates upon the sighting of a cat neutering poster on the community noticeboard.

8.45am – We’re barely out of our designated meal stop at McDonalds and I notice that the awkwardly tattooed woman beside me has enough snacks to get through a week on Greyhound. I say awkwardly tattooed because one of the tattoos has the name of the boyfriend she just left behind in Kansas. I’d recount details of the breakup but she has one of those really annoying voices that make it hard to focus on any pertinent information.

Rather than saving her snacks, the woman opens, in breakneck speed, just about every item including some rancid Beef Jerky which she’s offering to all and sundry.

The woman behind her is trying to keep a crying child amused by saying peek-a-boo but she’s saying it with such velocity, I expect it’s the cause of the crying and will at any moment cause me to have a seizure.

10.30am – Shared excitement erupts on the bus as Colorado’s snow capped Rocky Mountains come into view. I actually get misty eyed and start humming John Denver’s classic in my head. Go on - you know you want to!

10.42 am – The awkwardly tattooed woman bonds with the young couple sitting in front of us. But it’s not your usual type of bonding. Instead it’s over the need for marijuana. Well it was only a matter of time.

No surprise the awkwardly tattooed woman has one bowl (her words) left on her while the couple lament dumping their stash in Utah where apparently they conduct random searches. Denver (where we all go our separate ways) can’t come soon enough.

11.15am - HELLO DENVER! Not a minute too soon.

We have an hour to kill before the bus leaves Denver bound for Los Angeles but the line has already started to form. I highly doubt I’ll have a seat to myself. Depression sets in.

My mood is slightly improved by the presence of a retired English couple bound for Vail. Oddly they now call New Zealand home and have a home in Greenwich.

They spend an infinite time telling me the pros and cons of renting their home to strangers come Olympics time. I have zero advice to give them on this topic but it's a nice way to spend the time.

They also knew a girl named Jilly from Vermont. I'm saddened to break the news that I don't know her despite Vermont being a small state.

12.30pm - I don't have a seat to myself but it doesn't matter. I thought I lived by the mountains, now I realize they’re hills. Hello Rocky Mountains, a truly awesome sight. First stop Idaho Springs, followed by Frisco but no surprise, it’s rock star Vail that steals the show.

My dropped draw is replaced momentarily by a laugh out loud moment when we pass a sign that says 'Notice - Correctional Center do not stop for hitchhikers'. Sadly I don't have my camera out in time (see a similar example here: http://www.dizzyboy.com/jokes/funny-pictures/showfunnypicture.php?image=385

We pass through some of the most spectacular scenery – chiselled cliff faces and a smattering of red rocks hug the roadside and later our trip snakes along the Colorado River. I’m tired, but I can’t bear to look away. I want to see it all. Photos can’t do it justice, particularly ones taken from behind glass.

I’m like a kid at the zoo except the object of my fascination are motionless creations that have no less character despite their fixed stance.

5.40pm – Grand Junction, Colorado – arrive at the Transit Centre to the overwhelming smell of Lysol. Was really hoping for a roadside stop where we could get non-cafeteria food.

The selection here for what is all intensive purposes our meal break is vending food products and food that can be heated in the microwave – that includes chimichangas, hot dogs and burritos. 2.30am is a long way away; I may have to brave something. I do see cup of noodles! I’m not sure where the hot water comes from to make that though.....plus there’s no wifi. Grrr.

6.15pm - We're again late to leave.....not sure why it takes so long to clean the bus. On the plus side I have a seat to myself and promptly fall asleep.

2.45am – I wake up in total panic. Did I miss the Las Vegas stop? We were meant to be there at 2.30am. Holy crap. I look out in the distance and see bright lights on the horizon and sudden relief engulfs me as I realize Greyhound has stayed true to form and we’re late.

3am – The Vegas transit center is not surprisingly a hive of activity. Located on Main Street in downtown, near Fremont Street (the old part of Vegas), there’s a mix of clientele but a very distinctive feeling of desperation in the air. This is most definitely not the high rollers lounge.

3.30am - $20 later I arrive at The Palms and it’s almost impossible to describe the overwhelming excitement gripping my body at the prospect of a shower and a horizontal sleeping position.

3.32am – It wouldn’t be right if I didn't have one last block put between me and that bed. Everything starts off well, they have my booking which is a plus because this is the first time I’ve not used Expedia or booked directly with a hotel.

Let me tell you, I labored long and hard over where to stay in Vegas and in the end it was all about the best package deal – and there are plenty to be had midweek in Vegas – which made the final decision even harder.

In the end I went with a $49 per night deal at The Palms but right before booking I chose a $69 night option because it included 2 breakfasts and most importantly free daily access to The Drift Spa.

The front desk person tells me he’s never heard of this promotion and that essentially access to the spa is off the table. To all front desk staff (or night auditor in this case), can I suggest that you never take away the spa option from a girl who has spent 4 days crossing the country on a bus.

I do not yell; in fact I don’t raise my voice at all but instead smile sweetly and produce a printed out copy of the confirmation. It’s really like one of those high noon moments in a Western. While the issue is not resolved immediately, I’m presented with a day pass to the regular spa and promised that management will resolve the situation first thing in the morning.

3.45am – I follow the directions to my room but am blocked by security who tell me that my room is not in the casino but instead over at the adjoining property – Palms Place – described by the friendly but bulky security guard as 'quite a walk'.

3.50am – Back at the front desk, another staff member explains to me that while it is a 'short walk', I have in fact been upgraded. It’s clear that I’m not happy but at this point my desire for a shower overpowers my anger.

3.57am – It’s not that far but I’m walking like a person that just spent four days on a bus.

3.58am – I laugh out loud as I open the door to room 8301 and find myself transported to the lifestyles of the rich and famous. It’s quite the upgrade; in fact there’s a bath in my expansive living room, a room which will later be described by one of my best friends as being big enough to hold several SUV’s.

I may look worse than my passport photo at this point in time but not even that can wipe the smile off my face.

4.00am – My shower is also big enough to fit an SUV, well not quite, but the sheer exhilaration that envelopes my body at the sensation of running water is indescribable. It’s only been four days and those people who win Survivor totally deserve a million dollars just for going without a shower for over a month.

4.30am – I do not want to get out of this shower EVER. Plus there’s Aveda products. I’m in heaven. Almost.

5.00am – As my head hits the pillow I’m officially in heaven and not even the bright lights of The Strip blinking outside can stave off sleep.

But why, oh why, do the wrong people travel, when the right people stay at home?

But why, oh why, do the wrong people travel, when the right people stay at home? - Noel Coward

Before continuing with Day 2's adventures, a quick shout out to my mother. Apparently she was quite perturbed by the google research I did on the criminal happenings that have taken place on Greyhound. Mum, if you're still reading, don't worry about when I get to the bit about the knife. It all ends well.

Day 2 continued.....

Location: Somewhere between King of Prussia (PA) and Pittsburgh (PA)

Destinations still to come: Harrisburg (PA), Pittsburgh (PA), Cambridge (OH), Columbus (OH)

3.15pm – I swear to god, I never knew there was so much to know about becoming a truck driver. In the last half hour, I’ve learned (by eavesdropping, not engaging – never break rule 101 of bus travel) about the pros and cons of working for several different truck driving companies, the pay structure (which I kid you not, sounds very much like a pyramid scheme) to the sleeping arrangements at orientation (I wasn’t joking, the truck drivers are going to orientation).

3.30pm – it’s just my luck to get stuck with the Generation Y of truck drivers. Every 2^nd word is dude and there’s plans to wrap the youngest (22 in case you’re wondering) one in the bus bathroom. I’m not entirely sure where the plastic is coming from and I momentarily consider asking.

4.00pm - One of the truck drivers, who describes himself as Fat Boy (and so shall he be known) is trying overly hard to fit in - and yes he's the 22 year old. When one of the other truck drivers entertains everyone with stories about how he's 'been bit' by a rattlesnake no less than 3 times, Fat Boy offers that perhaps he should start wearing bright colors because rattlers are afraid of bright colors. I'm not sure this is entirely true and I'm also sure this won't bring him any closer to being the cool kid on the bus.

4.30pm - It was only a matter of time before Fat Boy decided to talk to me. He doesn't bat an eyelid when I say I'm from Vermont but it becomes clear quite quickly that I won't be assisting his endeavors to become the cool kid on the bus any time soon. He turns his focus to the girl who had to pay $40 for her excess baggage (Greyhound 1: Girl 0).

4.45pm - Struggling with in his ineptitude at improving his position in the truck driving popularity stakes, Fat Boy inexplicably decides to show everyone the knife he’s carrying. I start to fret that I may be about to make local news headlines but instead of carnage on the bus, Fat Boy wants to show everyone what $15 can buy you and explains the importance of staying protected on the road while driving trucks. I should point out that weapons are banned on Greyhound buses but our driver seems oblivious to the knife brandishing episode.

5.30pm – One hour till we’re in Pittsburgh and I come up from air after gleaning 42 minutes of Top Chef Masters from my powerless computer to discover the truck drivers are still talking about work and the millions they’re going to make.

Interestingly that leads to a new discussion on the various hardships they’ve all endured including Fat Boy whose sister lost 75% of her brain function following a car accident. It reminds me of those hard luck stories that dominate during American Idol auditions where the wannabes talk about how winning will change their lives. I suddenly feel very guilty about not talking to Fat Boy and silently hope that the truck driving company they work for isn’t a pyramid scheme.

6.35pm – We roll into Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania (can’t believe we’re still in Pennsylvania). All along I’ve been thinking Pittsburgh might be a bit of a hole, for no valid reason, except possibly that the first four letters are Pitts, which doesn’t lend itself to creating a pretty picture. As we approach the city, my suspicions appear to have merit with houses upon houses stacked awkwardly on top of the slopes leading to the river banks. But as we wind our way downtown, the Pitt redeems itself with an array of modern and ornate buildings. Unfortunately I can’t say the same for the Pitt’s Greyhound Transit Center, although it does have power outlets, but once again, no wifi.

7.10pm - I am a serious slave to connectivity. I choose to spend our half hour rest stop leaning against a public telephone where I’ve found a power outlet to recharge my ipod and computer. That fried chicken sure smells good but it’s a poor substitute for music that can block out another hour of truck driver banter.

I do however have time to grab some water which leads me to one of my favourite things about travel – discovering new things – this time it’s a brand of water called Fred. And the bottle is rectangular and narrow; kind of like a flask. Listen, before you make some comment, you spend a couple of days on a bus and see what small things amuse you.

7.30pm – Go to reboard the bus and discover they’ve decided to switch buses. Still no power or wifi but no handwritten no smoking sign. I lose the truck drivers in Pittsburgh but instead am befriended by two young guys - one from Wichita and one originally from Alaska, now relocating to somewhere I have never heard of.

I wish I could have recorded the conversation. Topics include the death penalty, hunting, drinking and candy – I’m in the minority every time, particularly when it comes to the appropriateness of shooting a bear.

It is the most fun I've had on the bus so far and the first firefighter and former US postal worker (turned truck driver believe it or not) I've met since I moved to the US and it's all thanks to Greyhound.

11.28pm – Wake up in Columbus, Ohio after a couple hours of neck breaking sleep. I want to stay on the bus and keep sleeping but it’s an opportunity to stretch, check for wifi (still none) and most importantly recharge! Plus this may be the one and only time I find myself in the state of Ohio.

And that’s how Day 2 ends – somewhere in Ohio – it’s another one of frustration at not being able to have a constant power source or to be able to connect with family and friends – isn’t it funny how you go on vacation to take a break from life, but you inevitably find yourself wanting to have a piece of it, or as Noel Coward calls them 'the right people' with you wherever you go?

Good Company In A Journey Makes The Way Seem Shorter

Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter - Izaak Walton

Day’s Itinerary: New York City (NY – Newark (NJ) – Mt Laurel (NJ) – Camden (NJ) – Philadelphia (PA) – King of Prussia (PA) – Harrisburg (PA) – RS Sliding (PA) – Pittsburgh (PA) – Cambridge (OH) – Columbus (OH)

12.00am – I have to say the bus terminal at Boston’s South Station is way more limited than I expected. This is a major city and the only thing open at the terminal is McDonalds and there’s no wifi – well unless a megabus or bolt bus rolls in, providing one with a 5 minute window to capitalize. It makes me wonder if as travelers our expectations are too high?

12.15am - I find it amazing how some people can sleep anywhere at anytime. This is a segment I like to call Greyhound Sleepers:

1.21am – Do you people not see me sitting on my suitcase, back against the wall with headphones in my ears? Why do you continue to pepper me with questions like do they have free wifi here? If I could find that out myself, so can you. I’m really, really tired. I wonder if it will be 3 days before I sleep again.

I imagine this must be what life on Survivor is like, except there’s no million dollar prize for the person who makes it through this challenge. I would totally be kicked off the island on day 1.

1.30am – Despite numerous spare power outlets around the gates, this guy continues to come over here and share mine. I continue to look down and avoid conversation. I really want to sleep on the bus to NYC, not get entangled in a never ending conversation that turns this shorter leg of the trip into the longest.

2.00am – Turns out most people catching the bus to NYC at 2am are teenagers going to the city for the day. I love the city but I’m not that keen.

2.05am – My plans to sleep are quickly abducted by a mad man dressed in black. But thankfully I’m not the focus of his attention; instead it’s the woman sitting in front of him that gets his undivided and unwarranted focus. I can’t stop watching.

Transcript follows:

Mad Man in black: ‘I’m going to Newark for a boxing tournament’ (his physique doesn’t indicate that he’s a boxer so I surmise that he’s going to watch and that he’s also taken a few beatings about the head; alarm bells would be ringing in my head now if I was this woman!)

Nice Woman: ‘That should be fun for you’ (she totally shouldn’t have engaged)

Mad Man in black (in seductive tone): ‘I have a hotel’ (I simultaneously pray she stays silent and wonder how this guy, who not to be mean, is punching well above his weight, can be so bold)

Nice Woman: Okay (bad move)

Mad Man in black (now leaning over her chair): ‘What’s your name sugar?’ (he doesn’t offer his but he looks like a Vinny)

Nice Woman: I’m just really busy now and need to focus on my work (nice, I like it)

Mad Man in black: I asked you what your name was (okay, fair point)

At this point I can’t reach for my iPod headphones quick enough, fearful that he’ll turn to me next at the moment he realizes he’s been rejected.

I think about Walton's quote that 'good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter' and acknowledge that the opposite, at least where I'm concerned, seems to be the case, but deep down that's partly why I chose this adventure.

This is where sleep deprivation takes over my body and I don't wake up until we arrive at Port Authority although I have vague recollections of being in Hartford, Connecticut, a destination not listed by Greyhound on my itinerary. Hallucinations already?

6.30am – There’s nothing quite like NYC’s Port Authority first thing in the morning. I need to brush my teeth as I’m sure this will help me feel less like I belong with the unwashed.

7.00am – I become increasingly confused over where I need to be to make my connection at 8am due to the lack of an illuminated departure board or in fact any type of signage instructing passengers on where to go. I see a tattered poster with locations and gates. Philadelphia, Gate 68. Good job!

7.05am – I’m not exactly brimming with confidence when I get to Gate 68 and see no one waiting for the bus. There is however a line at Gate 69 but the sign says Pittsburgh and Columbus.

7.10am - Greyhound staffer confirms I should be at Gate 69 and seems perturbed that I didn't deduct this. When I show him a ticket to Philadelphia, he concedes confusion is possible.

8.05am. OMFG. Greyound’s claim that the future has arrived is a lie. No power outlets or wifi exist on this bus. In fact there’s not even a tray table. Holy hell, I’m on this bus until 6.45am tomorrow morning. Not winning.

8.20am – As we make the approach to Newark’s Penn Station, a woman on the street gives the bus the bird. I feel her.

8.30am – We collect some passengers from Newark including one young hipster who is quite elated over the availability of the back row. ‘Yay, I can sleep,’ he declares. Glad someone’s happy.

9am – It has become quite apparent that the young hipster has no intention of sleeping as he’s not stopped talking on the phone since boarding. Ladies and Gentlemen – we have a new radio and this one is quite the wheeler dealer. I know this because I’ve just listened to him sell a broken game console for $150. He even offers to make a few games for the buyer.

9.20am – The young hipster tells his latest caller (and there’s been a few) that he has massive things going on in Manhattan, which is weird given this bus is en route to Philadelphia. I wonder if the massive things include a date with the NYPD or worse for selling defective merchandise and pirated games.

9.30am – I’ve eaten one of my chocolate chip cookies from Connick’s in its entirety. They normally last 2 days. I’m now bopping uncontrollably and weirdly in sync with Jennifer Lopez while I watch the American Idol performance show. This is going to be one hell of a sugar crash.

9.55am – I notice this bus is so old it doesn’t have a no smoking sign – instead it’s a hand written instruction.

10.15am – We let the bulk of the passengers off at Mt Laurel and even better, pick none up. As we go to leave, a woman yells at the driver ‘wait, my friend is in there’. The driver’s response: ‘your friend best be on the bus’. Love it.

10.16am – Missing passenger is safely on board and we’re off to Camden, New Jersey.

10.17am – I think someone just coughed up a lung.

10.34am – The woman who I suspect coughed up a lung wanders down to ask me if there’s anyone in the bathroom – which incidentally I’m several rows away from – I wasn’t aware that bathroom monitor was on my list of things to do today. Dissatisfied with my response, she asks the next person down who is much kinder than me and actually opens the door for her.

10.44am – We’re in Philadelphia, which does not have the most glamorous of transit centres. I have 10 minutes and I’m desperate for a power outlet and wifi. I find the outlet beside the Western Union desk – I imagine serial killers going from stop to stop collecting their victims wired money transfers.

Aha – a Greyhound wifi signal. Boo – they want $5.95 to access it. WTF?! So some buses have free wifi, others have none and now certain transit centers charge for it. A Martz bus pulls in and I find its wifi signal. Damn it wants a password. I go with Martz. Success!

11.10am – Back on the bus en route to King of Prussia – seriously must google this to determine where this name comes from. Wish I had wifi.

11.11am – Random passenger comes up to me and asks to use my phone. Not sure how he knows I have a phone but I decline, explaining it’s a pay as you go phone and I don’t want to waste my credit. He seems okay with this and returns to his seat.

1.55pm – Time seems to be flying and before I know it we’re in Harrisburg, PA, where we have 10 minutes to stretch our legs. A slight delay arises as I try to find my wallet. When I say slight, I mean less than two minutes. I go to leave the bus only to discover I’ve been locked in. I’m even more glad now that I have Paul Newman’s Lime Tequila Salsa as that now constitutes lunch.

2.30pm – 10 minutes has now turned into a much longer timeframe. Some girl is arguing about having to pay $40 to bring a piece of luggage on board. The bus driver says her only other choice is to leave it behind. This is not going to end well.

Adding further insult to injury, I’m the only person in the back corner who isn’t an aspiring truck driver on their way to truck driving orientation. As a good friend of mine always says ‘you can’t make this sh*t up. Seriously, truck driving orientation?

Mr Walton - there's company and then there's company.

To be continued......

Side note: King of Prussia got its name because of a tavern - http://www.kingofprussia.com/kophistory.asp

Most Of My Treasured Memories Of Travel Are Recollections Of Sitting

Most of my treasured memories of travel are recollections of sitting - Robert Thomas Allen

Day’s Itinerary: Columbus (OH) – Indianapolis (IA) – Effingham (Illinois) – St Louis (MO) – Columbia (MO) – Boonville (MO) – Kansas City (MO) – Lawrence (KS) – Topeka (KS) – Emporia (KS) – Wichita (KS) – Perry (OK) – Oklahoma City (OK) – El Reno (OK) – Elk City (OK)

The strikethrough and anyone who’s been getting more timely updates via Twitter and Facebook tells you all you really need to know about how Day 3 pans out. Not so good. Full account of events to follow.

3.05am - a sound sleep is rudely interrupted by our arrival in Indianapolis, the capital of the state of Indiana. I totally understand that bus drivers need breaks and passengers need to be collected along the route but I do not understand the need to turn on every single light in the wee hours of the morning and make everyone get off the bus for 40 minutes.

You'd expect at that hour things would be quiet but Indianapolis' transit center is jumping and full of people but it all feels a little bit seedy. I'm not sure if this feeling has something to do with my being half awake and unaware of where I really am or if it's something more concrete. Then I see something I haven't seen at a transit center yet - a police desk.

Even better, it's unmanned. I hope that this is because there's no need for law enforcement to be at the transit center at 3.05am and not because the officer is in the midst of breaking up some kind of criminal incident.

I'm getting quite used to the inside of transit centers at this point in time. Most are almost identical, right down to the location of power outlets and the cafeteria menus. Indianapolis again proves an exception.

The menu includes popcorn which I find an odd choice for 3am in the morning but at the same time I find it ironically appropriate as riding Greyhound is very much akin to watching a movie and what better accompaniment? There's also some suspicious looking item called a Tornado - a processed version of a Taquito - I can only imagine the fine list of nutrients one gets from consumption of a Tornado. I'm equally disturbed to find Tornados have their own Facebook page and that close to 350,000 people like them.

3.40am - It's time for another of the rituals that goes with cross country bus riding - re-boarding. In essence, you'd think this was a relatively straightforward process but in the land of Greyhound it involves providing riders with a pass that allows them back on the bus which must be presented along with one's ticket.

This boarding pass is pretty generic - it has some text and a number, generally the bus number. It's main purpose is to allow those who've been on the bus the whole time to beat a hasty retreat back on board and reclaim the prized window seat before the new riders get on.

It's my turn to present my pass and ticket to the driver who promptly tells me he can't read through my thumb. I look down at my hand and see that the validity of my ticket to Oklahoma City (my next transfer point) is fairly obvious. While I undertake this 10 second process, the driver tensely repeats that he can't read through my thumb.

First of all mornings are not my thing. Secondly, I don't respond well to people who can't communicate what they require. I look at his beady eyes and straw colored hair, which naturally is a comb over, and state that I don't understand. He again repeats he can't read through my thumb and then motions towards the generic re-boarding ticket.

I see in fact that yes my thumb is obscuring that number but I also see that I have a valid ticket on the only bus going to Oklahoma City. It's all I can do not to poke him in the eye and ask him how well he can see now. I decide against it.

4.50am - Another abrupt awakening, this one in Effingham, Illinois. It's the only stop in Illinois and I have no effing idea where Effingham is and I have no desire to at this point. I return to my upright sleeping position, one which I've spent two days perfecting, and stay that way until we reach the state of Missouri.

6.45am - Right on schedule, we arrive in St Louis, Missouri. It's so hard to really connect too much with any city when you simply drive through it but the whole point of this adventure is to see cities that I might not have ordinarily and perhaps come up with a list that I may in turn return to.

Instantly I like St Louis, although I'm disappointed to discover its pronounced St Lewis and that I've been mispronouncing it all this time. Outside, preparations are underway for the city's marathon - runners are limbering up and officials are putting up barricades. This should provide me with a hint that things are about to take an unwanted turn.

Off the bus and inside the transit center I find it's well above par - it should be - it cost $27 million. Not only is it architecturally impressive, it's clean, doesn't have the typical cafeteria and better still has wifi and power outlets. It's possibly the happiest I've been this entire trip. This of course is the kiss of death.

7.25am - I return to take part in the re-boarding ritual, mindful that my thumb isn't obscuring the all important bus number.

7.40am - We're meant to have left but there's no sign of our bus and the sun is streaming through the all glass facade. The heat helps remind me that most people here including myself have not had a proper bath in 3 days (I have at least bought with me washers, anti bacterial wipes, deodorant and toothpaste in a bid to maintain some semblance of appearance and sanity.

7.45am - I bond with Rick, a Princeton Professor who lived in Townsville (Qld, Australia) for 3 years and subsequently married an Australian. He was there for the truck drivers gathering and we relive some of our favorite truck driver conversations. Turns out Rick is also riding the bus for a bit of a lark.

7.50am - Still no sign of the bus. I'm not overly concerned yet. An enterprising actress takes the time to tell us that she's off to LA for a party in her honor. Apparently she has the lead role in an independent horror movie which has unexpectedly been given a video release. She tells us Red River is available at Family Video. I can't help but laugh at the irony of a slasher flick being available at somewhere called Family Video.

The conversation continues but I tune out as the actress talks about how she's glad to have 'made it' in the business but also at her frustration at being typecast as a scream queen. I'm guessing there must be some other independent movies she's starred in that aren't available at Family Video.

8am - Rick assumes the leadership role for our group, which now includes a crazy and very vocal French man, and goes to find someone who might know something about the whereabouts of the bus.

8.05am - Before Rick returns, an announcement, no doubt prompted by his query, rings across the transit center. It's like most announcements on most modes of transport - inaudible - but one word rings out loud and clear - DELAY. Generally speaking I wouldn't be concerned but I'm well aware that I only had a 15 minute window in Oklahoma City to make my transfer and you don't have to be a clairvoyant to know that this does not bode well.

8.06am - Rick returns and explains the delay is to do with the marathon and the bus driver not being able to make it through the closed streets. Everyone except me accepts this explanation. It's not like the city threw an impromptu event, pretty sure all and sundry would be well aware that the marathon was on.

With my wifi capabilities, I google the St Louis Marathon - yes there it is - April 10, 2011 - I also take the opportunity to look at the history of the event - nope not the first time it's been run. In fact it's been staged in April since 2003.

There's also no word on how long said delay might take. I think about marathons and how long they take to run and how this might impact our driver's arrival to work. I also wonder if I might use that excuse next time I'm late for work.

8.15am - Mindful of missing my connection and devoid of any departure update, I venture to the terminal counter. The very helpful ticket seller looks at my ticket and says he'll put me on a different bus, one that will actually get me to Vegas quicker. Score. I mention that my luggage is on the bus and he says he'll arrange to get it for me and that I'll be leaving at 9am. This seems unnaturally easy.

8.45am - 15 minutes till I'm meant to be on the new bus and there's been no mention of my luggage.

8.50am - My train of thought is interrupted by a page summoning us to the ticket counter. As I stand in line, I see food vouchers being prepared. My joy of getting to Vegas earlier than expected dissipates quickly.

We're informed that our bus has a transmission issue. It's been taken away, with our luggage, to get fixed. I'm given tickets back to my old bus, plus a food voucher for breakfast/lunch/and who knows, possibly dinner at this point and a $50 voucher for use on future Greyhound travel.

I'm also given the awesome news that I will not be getting to Vegas until 2.30am on Tuesday morning (originally it was 8.15pm on Monday night) and that I'll need to change buses in Kansas City. I mention that I have a hotel booked for Monday night and that I find this all bothersome. Not much response to that or any offer for compensation on the wasted hotel night. I think about all the things I'd like to do with my $50 voucher, none of which involves travel on a Greyhound bus.

9am - Armed with some information about how slow the service is at the cafe and considering the number of people that now have food vouchers, Rick, another passenger and I decide to form a line outside the KFC/Pizza Hut counter which opens at 10am. While I have no desire to eat KFC or pizza at 10am in the morning, it turns out to be a very smart move.

10am - The service at KFC/Pizza Hut is no faster than the cafe due to the fact that its the same staff manning that counter. No one is allowed cafe food and all must spend their vouchers at KFC/Pizza Hut. Guessing that's because deep frying chicken and chips is a lot quicker than making sandwiches.

10.15am - KFC tastes surprisingly good at this hour, who knew?

10.20am - I return to the seated position but it's not on the bus, it's against the wall where the power outlets are. At least my computer will be fully charged. Rick and I decide to look for the Red River trailer.

I find it but the scream queen doesn't appear to be the lead and appears in the trailer for less than a second.

Official poster on the left or if you're really keen, you can watch the trailer here: Red River Official Trailer. Take the time to read the comments that follow as well.

11am - Rick and I take turns guarding our possessions and use the time to brush teeth and distract ourselves from the realization that we've been in St Louis for almost five hours and seen none of the city. We also wager on what time the bus will go. I take 1.30pm while he bets on tomorrow morning after a recent conversation with a former Air Force POW who spent the last 48 hours in St Louis following a delay. If that's the best Greyhound can do for a veteran, things do not look great for us.

12.10pm - Rick returns from a walk around the terminal - the gossip has it on good authority that our driver is missing and will not answer his phone. Despite the hopelessness of the situation, I cannot help but laugh. I must be really tired as this level of calmness is most definitely not in my genes.

Rick also mentions that he told the scream queen we watched her trailer and noticed she wasn't in it much. She says this is because she's naked for most of the film. I begin to suspect my earlier thoughts on her body of work are pretty close to the truth.

1.00pm - I'm relieved to find that I've won the prizeless bet and we board the bus bound for Kansas City. The driver explains about the transmission issue but my genes kick in and I yell out, 'can we just go already, we all have somewhere to be'. For the first time, a Greyhound employee apologizes.

Life is either a daring adventure or nothing

Life is either a daring adventure or nothing - Helen Keller

Day 1 continued.....

Location: Burlington International Airport

Destinations: Montpelier (VT), White River Junction (VT), Boston (MA) en route to Las Vegas

2.00pm – Pay a visit to the washroom and am momentarily shocked when I hear the theme music from The Godfather start playing in the cubicle next to mine. I relax when I realize it’s simply someone’s cell/mobile phone. Seriously what is going on with this murderous theme and who the hell has The Godfather as their ring tone?!

2.10pm – Lunch time at the airport cafe where the prices are quite reasonable unlike most airports – I soon discover why. My Greek salad complete with tinned and tasteless artichokes is interrupted by a military jet screaming past the window. I seem to have forgotten that Burlington Airport is also the home of the Vermont Air National Guard Base. The woman in tight jeans and knee high boots (you know the type) sitting near me has not and presses her entire body against the glass. Love I’m pretty sure they can’t see you.

2.20pm - Burlington Airport's restaurant wins my first prize of the trip for their menu - I love how airports in particular thrive on air puns. Passport to great food & company......time will tell.

3.07pm – The man beside me sneezes and then apologizes. He fails to apologize for taking his shoes off and placing his sweaty sock clad feet on public property. I think fatigue is setting in.

5.50pm – There are cars parked in the bus zone. Hope the bus comes soon – nothing makes a bus driver happier than a blocked bay.

6.30pm – No sign of the bus. People begin to pace back and forth anxiously.

6.40pm – Still no sign of the bus and worse still there are NO cars blocking the bay, reducing the potential for comedy altercations.

6.49pm – Finally the bus arrives and we leave. I can’t quite believe I left Rutland at 5.30am and won’t be in Boston till after 11pm – I could have driven there and back and then back again in the same timeframe, however my lack of vehicle and desire to drive in Boston quashed that possibility early.

7.00pm – I never knew one could make so much noise eating an apple. The guy behind me has quite a set of chompers.

8pm – I’m amused by the guy seated in front of me as he attempts to arrange a taxi from White River Junction to Hanover. He’s said Hanover four times in 2 minutes but the dispatcher doesn’t understand his accent. I’ve so been there.

8.05pm – My amusement quickly dissipates as the apple muncher declares something is burning. I smell no smoke and see no flames. In fact the only thing burning are my eyes which are scalded by the light he’s repositioned over my head whilst investigating his imaginary fire.

8.40pm – We arrive in White River Junction where the driver gives us a generous 13 minutes to eat, smoke and pee – he doesn’t use those words but that's the implication. One of the dining choices is China Moon Buffet, sparking flashbacks to a horrific bus trip to Niagara Falls.

I decide to stay on the bus as I don’t smoke, don’t need to eat and don’t think there’s any way in hell all the ladies on the bus will be able to get in and out of the bathroom in 13 minutes.

Life may be one daring adventure or nothing but I don't need the adventure where I miss the bus on the first leg of the journey.

It's Not About The Destination, It's About The Journey

Day 1: 'It's not about the destination, it's about the journey'

Well at least that's what I was thinking when I decided to take a Greyhound bus (well a number of them actually) cross country to Las Vegas and a train ride from San Francisco home again.

The response to this decision has been met with a myriad of responses, mostly that I must be out of my mind. Oh that and to take knuckle dusters with me to fend off the freaks (thanks Joe Brown at Connick's Sandwich Shop for that tip and for supplying me with the world's best cookies for the trip).

I'd never really considered that I'd put myself at risk of meeting a sociopath by taking a bus to Las Vegas, but universally most of my American friends have implied this may be the outcome.

With that in mind I turned to Google to see if there was foundation for this concern. Probably shouldn't have done this. Turns out just two months ago some nut case hijacked a Greyhound Bus (read it here: http://www.cbsnews.com/8301-504083_162-20030651-504083.html) - not sure how I missed this. I would like to point out that no one was hurt.

Not so lucky was carnival worker Tim McLean who was decapitated by a fellow passenger back in 2008 while traveling on a Greyhound bus bound for Winnipeg (http://www.canada.com/montrealgazette/story.html?id=ba3498aa-995c-4f03-92f7-1a3cb0c79532).

Okay, I'm going to stop with Google now, although I couldn't resist the one about a UFO abducting a Greyhound Bus (http://www.ufoevolution.com/forums/showthread.php?t=6624) and focus on the fact that my non-American friends and family agree that the scenery and random places I'll travel through will make the long distance worth it.

Which brings me to the number one question I've been asked is how long will it take to get from Vermont to Vegas? The answer: 3 days, 4 hours and 45 minutes.

Day's Itinerary: Rutland (VT) - Burlington (VT) - Montpelier (VT) - White River (VT) - Manchester (NH) - Boston (MA)

4.30am - I wake up before the alarm. Why is it that when you're about to go on holidays you find it impossible to sleep? Given that I'm unlikely to have a decent sleep over the next 3 hours, 4 days and 45 minutes, I took the opportunity to have a decent sleep only to have it interrupted by my inability to sleep and paranoia the alarm wouldn't go off.

Given my not too distant future pretty much entails martinis poolside at The Palms (yes, the place where Jersey Shore's Pauly D is the resident DJ, I will forever be an MTV & VH1 junkie) I should be more relaxed!

5.00am - my mood improves as I drag my suitcase down Terrill Street where I imagine the noise of the wheels on the sidewalk wakes up everyone who had a good night sleep.

5.30am - I board the bus to Middlebury and am immediately confronted by the number one problem of long distance travel - fellow passengers. Even worse, there's only two of us traveling on the bus and one of us (read: not me) is regaling the bus driver with tales of the charmed lives of cats. And scarcely a second after I guess what he's going to say next, the passenger compares the life of a cat to that of his girlfriend. One hour and 15 minutes till we're in Middlebury.

I try to tune the human radio out but his propensity to truncate his sentences with an 'oh yeah' with a heavy emphasis on the 'oh', kind of like how I imagine a serial killer would as he puts his victim through a wood chipper, makes it difficult. I eliminate all thoughts of grisly deaths but I can't turn the radio off.

6.45am - Finally in Middlebury and god damn it, looks like the radio is going to Burlington. With half an hour to kill before the next bus, I opt for peace and quiet and importantly the first coffee of the trip at Steve's Park Place Diner. Not much peace and quiet to be had - the local plumbers are there and liberally using the 'f' word as only a decent tradie can. It's so much better than the human radio.

7.00am - Back to the bus stop in anticipation of the arrival of the Burlington Link, the radio's still going, this time it's a story about Rutland Hospital and their failure to recognize his son's cut was infected.

7.15am - First incident of the trip occurs. I'm under the impression that the bus to Burlington is $2. It's not, it's $4, which the driver informs me AFTER I already feed one of my two $1 bills through the machine. So I have a $5 note left and the machine not only doesn't refund, it doesn't give change. Awesome. A girl behind me strikes a deal with the driver to give me a $1 and use my money towards her fare. I don't quite understand and am quite certain I've been fleeced somehow. I really need more coffee.

8.45am - Arrive at Cherry Street Transit Station where there seems to be a surprising number of vagrants and old men, who all want to talk to me. Put my head down and drag my increasingly heavy bag (I am now lamenting my decision to include a jar of Paul Newman's Tequila Lime salsain my packed snacks) to Uncommon Grounds for a much needed double shot latte.

10.00am - Decide to leave Uncommon Grounds and head to Burlington Airport on account of the persistent cough of the man sitting at the table beside me and the very loud and uninspiring conversation between the people on the other side of him; all of which has spoiled my $5 latte.

10.15am - The old man trend continues on the bus where two unkempt and equally loud pair provide some unsolicited advice on getting to the airport. It's also the site of my second incident. Turns out it's $1.25 to catch the bus to the airport (which also requires a transfer at some place called UMall). Can I just say, that's a kind of odd price.

I also only have $2 and prepare myself to once again donate additional funds to Burlington's bus system but the bus driver tells me I can owe him. The unkempt pair now discuss their weekend plans which includes cleaning out a basement. I imagine this is where they talk their victims to death. Must stop with these macabre thoughts; haven't even stepped on board the Greyhound bus yet.

10.30am - Arrive at UMall, which I'd correctly guessed is an abbreviation for University Mall. The old man (whose friend sadly alighted) informs me to transfer here. I board my fourth bus for the day and it's not even 11am yet.

10.32am - The bus driver asks me if I have a body in my bag. It's not just me. The bus drivers are in on it too.

10.55am - Arrive at Burlington International Airport where I'm reminded how I'm not flying to Las Vegas. On paper it makes sense to have the Greyhound Bus Terminal at the airport but right now it just seems cruel.

11.00am - My disappointment over not flying is alleviated by the sight of a man trying to stuff a large trophy into his cabin baggage after being told by Jet Blue he had too much hand luggage. Bet that doesn't happen on Greyhound.

12.03pm - Crowded House's Weather With You is playing at Burlington Airport. This is the last place I expect to hear Australian/New Zealand music.

12.30pm - Paul Newman's Tequila Lime salsa is really good. Predict my bag won't be as heavy very, very soon.