This’ll upset you then: Greyhound acquired by British company. Mind you, I’m posting this from a British coach that has free wireless broadband and is very clean and comfortable, so the acquisition might even be a good thing…
This made me go :eek: in a good way, of course. And I was feeling so impressed at the fact that I was able to do my work from a hotel lobby bar last week. The moment I hit the send button I ordered an ice-cold beer. 
I took Greyhound Buses from Laredo, Tx. to New York City in 1988, so no up-to-the-moment practical information from me, sorry. Let me indulge myself in a little nostalgia, however. I thought it was a fabulous experience - my first time in the US, all I’d seen in movies and TV and read in books coming at me full size, only much larger and louder.
I made stops in New Orleans and Memphis and made conversation with all sorts of characters. Listened in on a group of African Americans hotly debating Michael Jackson’s ‘black’ credentials or lack thereof. And this was early days yet in his evolution towards total weirdness. Living up to a certain demographic stereotype, a twice-divorced 23-year old woman told me about her new fiancé. Bantered with the Cuban driver who showed me photos of all his 9 kids while waiting for the next the bus station. Several people asked me if I knew their cousin/aunt/friends in [insert British place-name here]. I managed to get a decent amount of kip, and I’m not the world’s champion sleeper by any stretch. I think the trip took 5 days and only one night was spent sleeping anywhere other than the bus itself - we overnighted in New Orleans.
Oh, yes, I remember the grease. I stayed away from fast food burgers for months after my Greyhound journey, as every single rest stop I could remember was either at a Hardee’s or Jack-in-the-Box.
If you start talking to people (which is inevitable during a 50 hour trip, at least for me), there are certainly interesting stories. One guy I met spent his last year or selling meth in Orange County and sleeping on the beach, and was finally returning to Oklahama City to see his mom after being incommunicado with her for a few years. Another guy was finally coming home to Indianapolis after a long incarceration in some prison out West. Yet another was reliving Viet-Nam by telling me all his stories of shooting up “gooks” and how this one time they blew up a village bank and brought on a veritable rain of paper bills.
So, if you’re into that sort of thing, you do have characters and stories there. (Probably more Springer stories than anything else), but the problem is, for every hour’s worth of stories, there’s about 24 hours of absolutely nothing happening. I look back and I wonder what in the hell I did for fifty friggin’ hours to pass the tedium. And, while my bus was mostly empty (perhaps a dozen passengers during the most crowded legs), there was no comfortable sleeping position. The floor didn’t work, lying two seats across didn’t work, nothing. Unless you’re a person who falls asleep easily in a sitting position, you’re not going to get much rest.
Speaking of incarceration…
The last time I rode a Greyhound, there was a man on there who indicated that he had just been released from prison and was on his way from Minnesota to Florida. Of course, he didn’t kill that guy - it was all a mistake, but no one would listen to him because he had been framed. :dubious:
Anyway, I got on the bus in St. Louis for a five-hour ride to Indiana (normally takes just 3 hours, but Greyhounds stop obviously). I’m female and at the time was pretty slim and fairly good looking. I was also stupid and naive enough to make eye contact with this jerk once and give him a polite smile. From that experience, I learned to never, ever smile at anyone I don’t know on public transportation where I can be backed into a corner and trapped for any length of time.
He decided to sit directly behind me. He started talking to me, moved into the seat next to me so I was trapped in the window seat and started stroking my hair. By the time the bus arrived at the station, I had repeatedly assured him that, yes, my boyfriend would mind if he kissed me. He had his hand on my leg and was leaning over me when the bus stopped and I practically shoved him out of the way and got out as quickly as possible. I have never ridden a Greyhound since.
Oh, I don’t mind. I’m Canadian. That’s halfway between an American and a British citizen.
Well all these stories really have me…well I don’t know if “looking forward to” is the right way to put it…but kind of anxious about my upcoming journey.
Today I purchased a ticket to the Pitchforkmedia summer music festival on July 13th in Chicago. I live in Philly. I’m going to be traveling a total of 36~40 hours to Chicago and back on a Greyhound in order to see Sonic Youth perform for 77 minutes. Daydream Nation in its entirety. Seemed like the kind of opportunity I shouldn’t let slip by.
I’m thinking I should take a little journal with me or a tape recorder so I can make a log of my journey and any characters I come in contact with.
Either that or skip out on my classes early on Thursday to take the noon Amtrak. :eek:
I went 52 hours non stop from Saskatoon to Toronto. Holy crap my neck was sore after that. Not to mention the lack of bathing didn’t make me the most pleasant person to sit beside. You do meet lots of neat people though, in fact I bumped into someone who used to live on my block in Saskatoon. What are the odds?