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. 
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.
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