Goin’ Greyhound – Flagstaff to LOS ANGELES – 12/29/2007

The part in which I make it to Los Angeles.

I’ve reposted the ENTIRE journey in chronological order if you click here or the Keep Reading link so you can read straight through my misery without interruption as if you were really there with me! If you’re completely caught up, you can just read the final entry below. Enjoy!

7:00am Flagstaff, AZ

The bus depot is not yet open. It is sixteen degrees out. I am freezing. After going Greyhound, I cannot imagine what Gitmo must be like. We are not given information, we’re told where to go, when to eat and pee, we cannot ask questions,the workers are short with us, we sleep for a few hours at most before being told to de-board the bus and stand around. I can see why people would break under these circumstances. Oh right, and I’m three days malnourished. Three isn’t many in comparison to people who spend their whole lives hungry but I feel pretty craptastic after three so I cannot even begin to imagine anything more.

This whole situation might be a little better if I could imagine a comfy bed to snuggle into upon my arrival…I have a floor. I mean, the carpet’s pretty soft but a fluffy carpet and single bedsheet with a couple of sweatshirts bundled for a pillow doesn’t carry quite the same allure as a mattress and a comforter. And yet, I’m still kind of excited for it.

??? – ???

I can’t sleep long enough. I just want to be in LA. I know this is the last bus until I get there but I’m wary that this is correct information. I might even be in California at this point but who knows. Mal Mal said she’ll pick me up from the bus depot. What a sweetheart! Recovering from surgery but still willing. Honestly, I probably would have cried if she said no. I’m too tired to call around, my phone is dying and I just don’t know that I’d have the energy to take any more buses to get back. I’d probably just sleep at the station. Must sleep. Kill time.

Nighttime Los Angeles, CA

WE’RE HERE! WE’RE HERE! I don’t know where I am in LA, just that this bus depot has an intense fence wall around it. Things don’t seem all that safe but they could have opened the doors and placed me and my luggage directly onto the 5 and I would have dodged traffic with a gigantic smile on my face. It’s late at night.

Hello strange man, how are you? No no, my luggage is fine. Okay…enough staring…seriously…can you not see the Pigpen like cloud of dirt around me? Surely it’s there.

Mal Mal is on her way. I don’t care if this isn’t the best place to be at night, I’m waiting outside. I’m going to go ahead and guess that there aren’t going to be too many Prius’ coming through the lot. I am excited.

I’m glad I’ve done this trek but I’ll never do it again unless I have to do it. EVER. I wanted to save money but I can’t imagine having to do this. I have never in 20+ years on this earth felt, been treated or experienced conditions like I have in the last three days. I never thought a bus ride would come so close to breaking me. I knew how important sleep and food and heat and clean water was before this trip and know how crappy it is when one of them is messed up but having them all become unreliable, sometimes inaccessible has really left a mark with me. People live like this all the time. Worse than this. I can’t imagine expecting a child to learn or produce work under circumstances like that. I want to cry because I’m so excited this is over and cry because I’m realizing some people never feel this relief. That is terrifying.

I live a truly blessed life.

FIN

December 26, 2007

Attleboro, MA

On the road again soon. Headed back to LA, this time by bus. Maybe one day I’ll fly into LAX or Burbank. Today is not that day. Stops in NYC, PA, St. Louis and Los Angeles.

My concerns for the day are baggage and connections. I found out that I could check two suitcases, one for free and the other for $3.00. Seeing as the last time I traveled to LA, I brought almost nothing, this seemed like a good time to pack and get some necessary things out there cheaply. The conditions that Greyhound set forth were that my suitcases be no more than sixty-two inches (all dimensions combined) and that each suitcase weight no more than fifty pounds. The sizes of the suitcases were no problem but the fifty pound weight limit was a bit more difficult. Problem is, I’m a fat kid. Fat kid clothes weigh a lot. Denim is heavy and when you’ve got enough to cover a good-sized bottom and gigantic thighs, things can get weighty.

After some rearranging and tough choices – toiletries or bread mix – I’m set. My skin and the public won out and so I left the bread mix behind.

Next hurdle was getting to the bus station. I know how to get there but the two suitcases, a twenty pound backpack and five pound purse are going to make it difficult. My bus leaves at noon so I figure the 9:00am train to Boston should put me there in good time.

My thoughts turn to rush hour. I’m not sure how rush hour commuter trains are anywhere else but they’re just plan horrible going from Providence to Boston. It’s a little bit like high school, well, public high school that is. It’s overcrowded, mean, cliquey and just the last place you want to be, especially when you’re carrying luggage. For this crowd, the idea of standing for an hour is unbearable. In fact, being expected to share the three person seat with two other people is like asking the every day commuter if you can borrow their significant other for the weekend. THE GALL. It’s almost too much. And so days I’ve sat on this Stoughton/Providence line watching as pregnant women, families and the elderly have to stand unless some teenage boy feels enough societal guilt to begrudgingly offer up his seat. That’s a rarity.

As these thoughts dance a macabre routine about my mind, my brother offers to drive me directly to South Station. Hurrah! I quickly say goodbye to my cats, my father, and one more goodbye to the cats and we’re off! I am excited to get out of here and back to LA. Too bad I still have 3 days to go!

10am – Boston, MA

I often feel like I think Dorothy did in The Wizard of Oz. I feel that I’m wide-eyed and wondering almost every day. The world is one great, big Oz. The difference is that I have been blessed to have many Scarecrows in my life. I always to want to tell people, “I think I’m going to miss you most of all.” Today, sitting in the car, I want to say this to my brother. We’re listening to a soul music podcast and my brother’s passion for music is contagious. There’s really nobody else like him in LA or anywhere else. You couldn’t ask for a better big brother. Well, you could but I can’t because mine’s already the best. Sorry.

We’re at the bus station and it is packed. It’s only about 10am. It’s early but about the same time I would have arrived by train. I really want McDonald’s cinnamon melts but it’s breakfast! Idiots.
…
I check in. Moment of truth. How much do my bags weigh? 52 pounds. Uh-oh.
…
I’m cleared! I see the line for the bus to NYC is already waggling out of the prescribed queue lines so I should probably jump in there now. I still have an hour and half before my booked bus leaves. Normally I would wait to get in line but Greyhound’s first come, first served policy has me worried this line is enough for the 11am bus, the 12pm bus and the 1pm bus.
…
Greyhound must be prepared for the post-Christmas rush because I’m now on the 11am bus to NYC. Despite the incredibly long line behind me, I managed to secure two seats to myself! I wasn’t even trying this time. I think writing will be the best way to kill time for now since I don’t want my iPod battery to die too early on this trip. What luck! The girl in front of me is blasting Beyoncé latest album. I don’t even need my iPod for this portion of the trip.
…
I want to sleep. It will not come. How poetic. Damn! Beyoncé lady’s got a phone call. No more music.

2:45pm
And then I slept apparently. Until now when the bus driver said we were making a pit stop. Those golden arches mean one thing! CINNAMON MELTS! Okay, two things because I really have to go to the bathroom, too.
…
I’m not sure where this McDonald’s we’ve stopped at is but it must be near the wealthy. $2 for Cinnamon melts and no 99 cent menu! How does this place expect its residents to keep a warm, thick layer of body fat if they can’t get a high number of calories for bargain basement discount prices?! This place is also cold. Rich and cold. Must be Connecticut. Cinnamon melts were the perfect choice because they’re nice and warm. I guess I was assuming a bit much of Greyhound and my $100 ticket thinking they would provide heat in the dead of winter in the Northeast. If I can’t sleep again soon, I’ll have to use my iPod. I have the Ghost Town DJs song “My Boo” stuck in my head and I only know three and a half lyrics. Not good. I can’t live like this.
…
We just passed a Volvo with the license LV2PRTY. Love to party? Live to party? Either way I’m guessing that license plate came before that baby in the back seat. Though dad looks like he’s having barrels of fun swinging around that teething ring in a forced silence so as not to wake baby. I wonder if they’ll keep that plate or ditch it when it’s time to renew. Maybe LV2DIPR or 2LVCREW? We should be at Penn Station in NYC in about fifteen minutes. I don’t know what the lines will be like for my bus to Harrisburg, PA and I don’t have much time before my bus departs. Hopefully the lines here are not like the lines from Boston to NYC so I can get out of here on time.

9:30pm – NY

Well that was an excellent stay at Penn! I HATE GREYHOUND. Fung Wah service is above and beyond what I just experienced. Here’s what went down.

My bus from Boston gets into Penn at 5:20pm. I ask the Greyhound customer service woman where to go, seeing as my connection bus was the 5:00pm one. She tells me there is a 6:00pm bus at Gate 31. I get my 100+ pounds of luggage – 2 suitcases, huge backpack and purse – go up the escalator, walk through the halls and head back down the escalator on the other side to get to Gate 31.

As I approach the gate, a man approaches me and asks me where I’m headed. “Los Angeles via Harrisburg.” I respond as he walks away saying to me over his shoulder that, “Yeah, it’ll be here at 7:30pm.” Quoi? The Greyhound lady sitting in a booth with schedules told me there was a 6:00pm bus so I ask him if he really means 7:30pm. “Yeah, you missed the 5:00pm.” he says as he goes back to doing not much of anything.

Confused, I wait. A man gets in line behind me, his bags noting that he, too, is going to Los Angeles. I feel somewhat relieved. At 6:10pm a strange man, tall and lean, walks up to me. He tells me this is not a Greyhound bus, that it is a local bus. I don’t trust him because this is New York City and he doesn’t appear to work here. I try to brush him off but he brings over a Greyhound worker, the one who told me to wait, and has him verify that the bus to LA isn’t here, but back on the other side of the station at Gate 69 where I was originally and that it leaves at 6:30pm. That is less than 20 minutes from now. The man in line behind me and I aren’t going to argue with an actual worker and follow this other thin man back to Gate 69. Once there the man tells me I should check with information to see if I need to change tickets.

Now, if the man had said that at Gate 31, I wouldn’t have left. I shouldn’t have to change tickets after speaking to two Greyhound workers and having the rest of my tickets for the trip. Even if I weren’t lugging around two 52-pound suitcases amidst hundreds of random people, I would still be just as furious as I am now. Not just at this guy but at myself, my $99 ticket, whatever stupid heavy books I decided to bring back. I am not pleased. But what am I supposed to do? I head BACK over to that same lady who originally told me to go to Gate 31. “What happened?” she asks as I near the window. I start to explain about Gate 31 and the 7:30pm bus but before I can say much she rudely interrupts me with, “You missed the 6:00pm so now, yes, you have to take the 9:15pm.”

9:15pm. NO JOKE. I didn’t think she was a comedienne but I know even the least humorous people can have a couple good jokes stashed away. She wasn’t being funny. At this point, I’m on the verge of tears. I’m pretty sure my anger has properly brewed, creating internal steam which is exiting through my tear ducts and upon contact with the cool, New York bus station air, is condensing to form tears. Because I am not the kind of person who yells and screams and demands, the only thing I can do is cry. But even that is odd so I blink away my tears. My travels began around 8:00am and come 9:00pm, I will only be in New York City.

I spot a gaggle of Greyhound workers, again, doing much of nothing. My head spinning with gate numbers and departure times, I hope that if they cannot provide an answer, they can at least back up one that I have already heard. Is there a 6:30pm, a 7:30pm or am I here until 9:15pm? Unlike Just like the other Greyhound workers I’ve dealt with today, this group is dismissive and rude. I appear to be butting in on something hilariously unrelated to work. When I’ve awkwardly stood there long enough for them to have no choice but to acknowledge my presence, one of them is kind of enough to huff that I’m stuck here until 9:15pm. Defeated, I walk back to the gate and wait. What’s a few more hours in the snowy, cold, crowded, noisy basement of Penn Station?

I decide that although I am only in NYC, I must break out my iPod. On the bus I can sleep or read, but in line at Penn Station with no place to go? This calls for the ultimate in entertainment. I need hours of my time to fly by without my noticing it and I need to laugh and be soothed. One man. Three words. Ira Glass, This American Life. Luckily I haven’t had many hour-long periods to catch up on the podcast. It would be amazing if could alternate between This American Life and Wait Wait…Don’t Tell Me! but unfortunately I am up to date with my Wait Waits. No mind though, I have about 8 This American Life podcasts on my iPod.

While listening to Ira’s sweet, sweet voice, a Russian man wanders over to me. He’s attractive and tall, at least 6′4…and he reeks of alcohol. He asks me a question but I can’t hear him over Ira. I don’t care to understand what it is he’s asking me since I don’t appreciate people interrupting my time with Ira. I very much want the Russian fellow to leave us (yes, us) alone but I ask him to repeat himself since he doesn’t seem to take the hint. The question registers the same as it did the first time which is CLOUD OF BOOZE. Surely he sees me grimace. Or not. He leans in close to my face. “St. Louis.” I say. It seems like a reasonable answer to any number of questions he might have asked me. Where am I headed, where am I from, where does this bus go, and many other questions can be answered with St. Louis.

Did I forget to mention that now instead of going to Harrisburg, PA I’m going straight to St. Louis? Yeah, the 9:15pm bus goes to St. Louis, MO.

Anyway, my answer seems to satisfy the man and he stumbles off to flirt with some other girls. The only other person I speak to is a tiny, old woman in line with me. She’s sweet and only talks to me a few times while we wait. She’s probably between 70 and 75 but her skin flawless. I never want to wrinkle.

The bus pulls in at 8:45pm. HURRAH! My fleeting excitement is dashed. Hours ago I would have been thinking ahead to boarding the bus and leaving early and getting back on track but an early-arrival bus means nothing to me anymore. Rightfully so, since minutes later the driver gets off to inform us that the heater doesn’t work and we have to wait while it’s fixed. Glad I didn’t get my hopes up. He returns to the bus and fiddles with things.

After twenty more minutes of babies crying and a toss of my second most hateful look to the driver, he tells us that he restarted the bus and now the heater works.

WHAT.

This only my FIRST DAY.

December 27, 2007

12:20am - Philadelphia, PA

We all have to deboard and we may be getting a new bus. I am not pleased about getting off since I had been sleeping quite well. The bus driver says we should take our on-board belongings off the bus but leave our luggage that is beneath it, it will be transferred for us. I am not pleased. I’d rather watch them stow my bags. As we wait inside there is a little boy, probably about five, playfully harassing some girl who looks to be between fifteen and twenty-five. I think she might be a user but she’s nice enough and keeps that small boy quiet and entertained.
…
We are given a new bus. This one has heat for the driver (whatever!) and I can see that two compartments underneath our old bus are open but not the one that held my things. Hopefully they open and shut that one already?
…
They didn’t. We were running late so I didn’t have a chance to ask what was up before we left. Well, I jotted down the bus number and where I last saw it. Hopefully that will expedite things.

4:30am – Medway, PA (maybe?)

Rest stop. Why do they have to make an announcement and throw on the lights? I just want to sleep. Ugh. Hm, a 24-hour Quizno’s? Sign me up! Though I would really rather not eat Quizno’s at 4:30am but I’m starving and my legs hurt.
…
$3 Quizno’s sandwich? Sign me up for that, too! This sandwich is delicious! Though I’m really too tired and hungry to discern fine cuisine right now.
…
I return to my seat to find a Russian woman sleeping in it. Awkward? Yes, thank you very much. My bag is still there. To wake or not to wake…WAKE! I justify my rudeness by believing that if I don’t wake this old, old woman, it will throw off everyone’s seating and I don’t want to be that douchebag. I wake her. I try to explain (change of heart) that I just need to get my bag from under the seat and she doesn’t seem to understand me and scurries back to her old seat. I just hope my luggage makes it to Los Angeles.

4:30pm – Indianapolis, IN

Two hour layover before we head to St. Louis. I’m hungry. We passed a Subway and an Arby’s. The vending machine choices here are lacking. I’m sorry, did you say Burger King Ketchup and Fries flavored potato chips? Yes, yes I did. I think I will pass. I scrounge up some change and hit the cloudy, rainy streets of Indianapolis.
…
I really want Arby’s but it’s super expensive! Subway is cheaper. Service is incredibly slow but the cashier is friendly enough. Walking the streets makes me wish I was doing this trip by car. In the gray light of the afternoon, the empty streets make it seem like there’s not much to do here but if I had some time I would check out the city’s “oldest bar” and Wholesale District. That could be interesting. Maybe I’ll…no, I’m walking the streets alone, I don’t trust Greyhound enough to believe they won’t leave early and I’m being closely watched by two men drinking beers. A little too closely. I’m going to call my mom so I can look busy and let them know someone will know what happened to me. That should work until I make it back to the bus station.

6:30pm

Woohoo! Re-boarding passes! Now I can definitely get back on the same bus. The new driver gives me good and bad news. “When we get to St. Louis, have them reissue your ticket through Denver to get to Los Angeles…” Hurrah! A helpful tip! “…then you can leave at 1am instead of waiting until 3am to depart.” WHAT? We’re scheduled to get into St. Louis at 10pm. A FIVE hour layover? A three hour layover? My iPod is slowly going. That first This American Life dose did a number on the battery. I have a book to read but surely I will be too annoyed to focus.
…
Back on the bus. Good times. I’m surrounded by kids reeking of smoke. At least one of them is from the Boston area. He uses the phrase “wicked funny” and his accent is unmistakable. He’s probably from Southern MA. Not just his accent but the way he offers up the information that if there were booze on the bus he would “probably make a scene, throw up everywhere and pass out.” I think his friend might be from the area, too since he exclaims, “I smell vodka! Oh wait, it’s hand sanitizer.” and laughs. Just like high school. Unfunny people saying things to get laughs. Those two are full of knee-slappers. This ride to St. Louis is like a non-stop, not hysterical version of MST3K. These guys are clearly saying things to sound cool to the other one but it’s so unfunny. Can we stop this charade? Neither of you are FUNNY. Neither of you find the other funny. As annoying as all these people surrounding me are, I kind of like the guy behind me’s take on his relationship. “She fucks other guys but I’m okay with it because I fuck other girls. But at the end of the day we know it’s me and her.” I find that really sweet. It sounds crude, and maybe it’s because these are the kind of gentlemen I grew up with, but the statement is kind of endearing. He means it. Then again, I took, “You have nice tits.” to be a compliment until college so maybe I’m not the best judge.
…
I can’t sleep because the boy from Boston across from me won’t turn off his light. Text messages with Amy and Mal Mal help pass the time when I have service.

8:00pm – Effingham, IL

Where? Exactly. I feel like I’m in The Hills Have Eyes, Jeepers Creepers, Last House on the Left and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre all at the same time. I’m waiting to blow a tire or have some creature jump on the bus. I also don’t enjoy town slogans like “Effingham – Crossroads of Opportunity.” This implies a lack of opportunity here, right? It makes me feel caged in, like I need to get out now, like there’s no hope. This isn’t a long stop and soon I’m back to my surrounding buddies chattering.

10pm – St. Louis, MO

So pretty! If Vibha wasn’t in India, I would call her and tell her. We arrive at the Greyhound station and I prepare for my five hour layover. Word is spreading throughout the bus that Denver could end up with twenty inches of snow and I am not up for that on a bus. I’ll wait a couple more hours and head to Texas.

10:30pm

I ask about reissuing my ticket and they tell me to wait at Door 4 like everyone else. It sounds like there will be a bus before 1:20am (my scheduled departure time). Oh frabjous day! Callooh! Callay! I chortle in my joy.

11:30pm

Yes! We headed out the door super early for some reason! I am officially four hours behind schedule instead of nine!!! We’re on our way to Tulsa. I grew quite fond of Oklahoma this fall driving cross-country so I’m kind of excited to see it again.

December 28, 2007

6:30am – Tulsa, OK

If I were fourteen, I would be going out of my mind right now. Tulsa, OK is the hometown of Hanson. That’s right, those golden-haired boys that sing in three part harmony. I can see how they came from this place. Inclement weather has us here until at least 9:30am. It’s too early to explore the city. Tulsa does not appear to be as nice or cool as Oklahoma City was when I drove out here. Of course, I make this decision after only having seen the bus depot of Tulsa. I would kill time listening to Hanson if only my iPod would last!
…
I’M SO SO DIRTY. Actual unclean dirty. I want to shower, plz! Kthxbai. You cannot imagine when you decide to go cross-country by bus, all the things that are bad about it. It’s just not in your mindset. Well, it’s not in mine. It seems commonsense in the moment so I guess it’s my fault but I guess I’m just so used to showering, it didn’t occur to me I would be going days without one. I didn’t really think that I was going to have to wash up during bus breaks with the other hundreds of people at the bus station. Never did I imagine fighting other women for the chance to brush our teeth at one of 3 sinks during a 20 minute break. So unclean. And it’s worse because it’s not just me. We’re all dirty. We’re all forgoing proper meals and wash schedules. It’s depressing. I’m usually very polite and will let people cut in front of me but not now. I want to be CLEAN. Let me wash my face! PLEASE. If you’re younger than me, forget it. I will elbow you for that spot in front of the sink. And you better believe that at 6′2, if I want that spot, I’m gonna get it.
…
At least the Tulsa bus depot has CNN playing on the TVs. It’s good to catch up on the news. It’s also really nice to see Anderson Cooper’s face. I know that sounds weird but it counts as a familiar face after riding on a bus with strangers for days. And I love him. Just as we all do. Oh! It looks like people are waiting out our time on the bus! I think I shall join them.

9:30am

We get to leave! Nobody’s going through Denver but we can go to California. But wait! We don’t have a bus driver. I’m not sure how they’ve managed that. Our bus driver that got us here is now off-duty but there’s nobody to replace him? But surely they knew the bus would eventually be here. Ugh. A chance to make up some time and it’s wasted. It will be a couple more hours. Well, misery loves company and we’re all miserable so the bus is becoming more friendly. People are sharing information on places to get breakfast and others are offering to take orders and bring stuff back for the rest of us. It’s kind of refreshing.

10:00am

We’re leaving sooner than expected! Too bad most of the bus has gone in search of food at this point. The manager of the bus depot is sending people from another bus over here. It’s a cold welcome as they try and find seats. People are calling out, “These are taken! They’re at the store!” and the biting, “Someone who was already on this bus is sitting there!” If this were LOST, these people would be the Tailies. Not the good ones like Mr. Eko, either. I’m talking a bunch of Ana Lucias.
…
My good feeling has been spoiled. The people sitting in front of me appear to be live-action characters from the show, “King of the Hill.” She is not wearing a bra despite painfully needing one and he has cut the sleeves off his shirt and his long, mulletous hair is spilling out below his trucker cap. They’re bickering. She is so tiny and so big-chested. PLEASE put a bra on at least while you’re standing and moving about. Or at least a thicker shirt. Apparently it’s all her fault that they don’t have money. If she had quit smoking, they wouldn’t have had to buy cigarettes and they could be buying food now. But now this guy has to call his father and ask for money. She’s apologizing profusely. I guess this guy doesn’t have a cell phone so he’s borrowing another traveler’s. He’s asking his father to wire money. He’s lying to him about why but his dad seems nice enough about giving them the money. He hangs up. He’s blaming his wife/girlfriend again. She’s getting angry now. They argue. The kind traveler asks the bus if there’s a “So-and-so” on it. This man must be letting anyone use his phone. Wow. Super nice. ”King of the Hill” guy takes the phone. His father has wired the money. He and his lady-friend seem calmer now. They sit and apologize too each other in a sugary, sweet way. She cuddles up to him. UGH! TOO CALM, TOO CALM. They’re making up on the bus. Please stop. Please. I have nowhere to go! At least put your seats upright. PLEASE. Ah. Ah. I can see your reflections in the window and I can’t stare at the person I’m sitting next to and as hard as I try to look above you, I keep getting worried that you’re going one step further. Thank goodness you have a blanket but STILL…we’re not stupid. Third base is about as far as you can go on the bus without getting thrown off but could you NOT while I’m sitting behind you? I can’t even convince myself that this is some hot scene from a movie because you look like characters from “KING OF THE HILL!!!!” I’ve never needed a shower more than I do now. I wish I could wipe my brain clean. Now I have to use my iPod. I have to sleep. It has to happen. It must.

11:00am

I think they’re done. We’re driving through Oklahoma now. Oklahoma was my favorite state when I drove out here with a friend in September. It felt so natural. Green grass, blue skies, fresh air. The freshest air. Beautiful. December in Oklahoma? Less so. Yellow, dead, cloudy. The air is probably still wonderful but I wouldn’t know. It smells like recycled bus air. This is the last time I ride “The Dog” cross-country.

6:00pm – Amarillo, TX

This is chaos. Buses are being canceled, rerouted and re-designated. Even the workers don’t know what’s going on. Somehow I am considered as originating in Texas despite having been traveling for days. I do not get a reboarding pass. I could be left here until a free bus opens up because of lousy organization. I tried to ask the driver about a pass but he’s mean. The weather in Colorado is screwing everything up. I have to wait in line to get on my bus. Ridiculous. The replacement driver says there are four seats left on the bus. I am third in line. The bus driver tells us all to go to the Denver gate because he’s going West, too. ”LA?” I inquire. ”LA.” he responds while waving me away. Foolishly I get my hopes up. The driver of this new, emptier bus says I can transfer in New Mexico to get to California but not get there direct. I could scream. My luggage is on different bus and my ticket is only good for Amarillo to LA, Albuquerque isn’t even listed as a stop on it. I want to bust skulls. Worst of all? I’m going to miss the Patriots play as they try to hold on to a perfect season because I’m on the bus. Argh! I cannot stand this.

8:50pm

We’re driving through New Mexico with no heat at night. I can’t sleep. My body slows down too much and I start to shake. I cannot put into words how cold it is. The bus driver informs us that we have to change buses due to the lack of heat. I feel like we’re being swarmed by Dementors. We can see our breath and after days on the bus, it feels as though there is no hope for any of us. I will focus on how clear the sky is and look at as many stars as possible. It’s beautiful

December 29, 2007

1:32am ALBUQUERQUE, NM

FUCK ALBUQUERQUE! It was far more fun breaking down 30 miles outside of Albuquerque with Pablo – probably not for Pablo since we stopped because part of his car was dragging down the highway – than standing around for hours, waiting to figure out this whole bus situation. The driver from Amarillo is a total douchebag. We didn’t get re-boarding passes because they moved us onto a second bus so I barely made it on this bus going to LA. I am going to miss the Patriots game at this speed.

The best part of Amarillo? THE BEST PART. Someone asked the driver taking us from Amarillo to ABQ if we could directly board his bus when we arrived in gate seeing as our driver when we arrived told us we were leaving immediately. Fair question. One driver says, “Hurry! You’re leaving now!” So, “Excuse me, Bus Driver of New Bus that We Were Told is Leaving Now, may we board?” And this driver bites her head off. Then as she’s walking away, he raised his arm pretending to backhand her. Who DOES that?! Here’s a better question. Who writes letters of complaint to Greyhound? This kid. I understand you’re stressed by the situation but so are WE. We’re not getting paid to be here and after your shift, we still have miles to go before we sleep.

The driver of this bus from ABQ to LA seems nice. He’s just trying to keep order before we’re authorized to leave. Though he did say he HOPES my luggage made it onto the bus. That makes two of us. He might be joking but I’ve (temporarily?) lost my sense of humor.

I have never seen a mess like this. People are weeping over pay phones to loved ones. There have been so many detours that phones have died and people are actually using pay phones. What. a. mess. These are grown men and women crying like children. And I think that’s how most of us feel, like little kids being dragged through the supermarket after a long day. We’re exhausted, we’re hungry and we don’t want to be here. We have no control and we feel hopeless. I’m not crying but I’m close. Not in a sad way, in a hysterical way. Looking at this scene, I could almost laugh until I cried. Never have I experienced this sort of scene.

NEVER AGAIN, GREYHOUND. NEVER. Though, this trip has really made me want to drive cross-country again in a car, on my own time.

Man. I am going to have to hug out this aggression when I get to LA…after I shower for 14 days. Unclean. UNCLEAN.

7:00am Flagstaff, AZ

The bus depot is not yet open. It is sixteen degrees out. I am freezing. After going Greyhound, I cannot imagine what Gitmo must be like. We are not given information, we’re told where to go, when to eat and pee, we cannot ask questions,the workers are short with us, we sleep for a few hours at most before being told to de-board the bus and stand around. I can see why people would break under these circumstances. Oh right, and I’m three days malnourished. Three isn’t many in comparison to people who spend their whole lives hungry but I feel pretty craptastic after three so I cannot even begin to imagine anything more.

This whole situation might be a little better if I could imagine a comfy bed to snuggle into upon my arrival…I have a floor. I mean, the carpet’s pretty soft but a fluffy carpet and single bedsheet with a couple of sweatshirts bundled for a pillow doesn’t carry quite the same allure as a mattress and a comforter. And yet, I’m still kind of excited for it.

??? – ???

I can’t sleep long enough. I just want to be in LA. I know this is the last bus until I get there but I’m wary that this is correct information. I might even be in California at this point but who knows. Mal Mal said she’ll pick me up from the bus depot. What a sweetheart! Recovering from surgery but still willing. Honestly, I probably would have cried if she said no. I’m too tired to call around, my phone is dying and I just don’t know that I’d have the energy to take any more buses to get back. I’d probably just sleep at the station. Must sleep. Kill time.

Nighttime Los Angeles, CA

WE’RE HERE! WE’RE HERE! I don’t know where I am in LA, just that this bus depot has an intense fence wall around it. Things don’t seem all that safe but they could have opened the doors and placed me and my luggage directly onto the 5 and I would have dodged traffic with a gigantic smile on my face. It’s late at night.

Hello strange man, how are you? No no, my luggage is fine. Okay…enough staring…seriously…can you not see the Pigpen like cloud of dirt around me? Surely it’s there.

Mal Mal is on her way. I don’t care if this isn’t the best place to be at night, I’m waiting outside. I’m going to go ahead and guess that there aren’t going to be too many Prius’ coming through the lot. I am excited.

I’m glad I’ve done this trek but I’ll never do it again unless I have to do it. EVER. I wanted to save money but I can’t imagine having to do this. I have never in 20+ years on this earth felt, been treated or experienced conditions like I have in the last three days. I never thought a bus ride would come so close to breaking me. I knew how important sleep and food and heat and clean water was before this trip and know how crappy it is when one of them is messed up but having them all become unreliable, sometimes inaccessible has really left a mark with me. People live like this all the time. Worse than this. I can’t imagine expecting a child to learn or produce work under circumstances like that. I want to cry because I’m so excited this is over and cry because I’m realizing some people never feel this relief. That is terrifying.

I don’t have a job, I don’t have money, I don’t have a bed but man do I live a truly blessed life.