What could be more interesting that a 4th of July weekend bus ride. I had my doubts that this trip would be interesting or eventful…but thankfully my doubts were unwarranted and this ride has been nothing short of interesting, and eventful.
Where to begin? I guess it’s always best to start at the beginning. My tale begins at the Greyhound station in SLC.
The steps to the door way were littered with the vagabond of the city, taking drags off there one luxury. There comfort, there solace. I made my way up the steps, through the glass doors into the HUB. I proceeded to the ticket line, to receive my penance. I stood there as the man in front of me, attempted to explain his destination to the woman behind the counter, who could have cared less really. She was too busy asking the person on the other end of the line if “she introduced you to her boyfriend, and do we have rice in the fridge?”. She carried on her phone conversation with no regard for the line building behind me. At her own leisure she ended the conversation and asked the man where he wanted to go. He was trying to get to somewhere in Tennessee but I think he knew where as well as you or I would. He stood there in his navy blue virgin mary hoodie attempting to explain what city. After three printed tickets, and three different cities. He finally continued on his way, but not before the ticket lady said, “Either I need to brush up on my Spanish, or you need to learn to speak English.” (Yes, this really happened.) Getting my ticket of course, was nothing short of eventful, I had the wrong number written down as my confirmation number, and I could tell that this woman was a strong stickler to the rules and wasn’t going to budge on trying to look my ticket up any other way. Finally, ticket in hand, I proceeded to highlighted route and sat and waited…and people watched, THANK GOD.
Every seat in the lobby was taken. The ones that were empty were not promising, so I sat on the floor. I let all the thoughts of disease and misfortune leave my head, who knows what I may or may not catch while sitting here, and frankly I didn’t want to think about it. My impending doom, was nothing I wanted to think about. I was already terrified enough about riding this damn thing, I didn’t need to get all worked up about waiting for it.
Then the people watching ensued…
My first fascination was with the man in camo pants, tucked into combat boots. His fingers were adorned with a silver bulky ring on each, and his head was shaved. Underneath his military style jacket peered out a slipknot t-shirt. Imagine my excitement, and immediate terror. This man looked like a killer, no question about it, and not only that he looked like someone who would play in your blood after he murdered you. Yes, of course I judged a book by his cover, and I was right to. I was in the freaking bus station, for crying out loud! As I sat there he kept circling the lobby like a vulture, aimlessly waiting to swoop down on his prey. I noticed after he circled the second time that he had a hands free cell phone piece in his ear. He was also saying something, I tuned in my ears to get a better listen. “The area is clear, the subject is in motion…over and out…yes sir…the mission is in completion…” Apparently, camo pants was on some secret operative mission at the greyhound station, either that or he was completely insane. I’m going to side with the latter.
From across the room, a man who looked like a giant started to head my direction. His windbreaker was a jade green with a navy color, and his red sweatshirt underneath looked like it had been red in another life, and was awkwardly too small on his giant body. As we got closer he started to adjust himself, and I don’t mean his shoulders or posture. He stood about six feet away from me with his hands down his pants moving things around down there, and just when I thought it was safe to look up he started to take off one of his belts. (and yes, that’s intentionally plural because he was wearing 3 different belts…he has a really hard time keeping his pants up?) The adjustment went on for a couple more minutes, I had to concentrate really hard on A. Not laughing, and B. Starring at the ground. Finally it ended, and later as I sat in my seat on the bus I prayed and prayed that he would not sit next to me, or near me. My bad luck continued as he sat in the row across from me, and sipped out of a coca-cola can and sprawled his whole body out over the 2 seats. Something about this giant, gave me the creeps. Thankfully he got sucked into the abyss at our wendover stop, and never made it back on the bus. PHEW!
The lobby was highly entertaining, and the security inspection before we got on the bus was ghetto as hell as the security official let two people carry knives onto the bus. PERFECT. One of them would later proceed to chat my ear off, and it was only because in the back of my head I knew of the knife did I allow this.
On the bus I went, I couldn’t believe I was doing this. Half ashamed, but half cracked up on the inside I let it happen. I knew that no matter what happened on the way, the out come was that I would get to see my family, so therefore nothing else really mattered to me.
After our first stop in Wendover, thuggish ruggish bone decided to sit in the seat across from me. Now, this guy had chatted me up in line before the security check, and was under the impression that I was smuggling drugs on the bus, because I was acting “sketchy” in line. (Honestly, I was probably trying to contain my laughter.) Back to TRB. I had made a lasting impression on this gangster from the hood, and he was not going to let me stop talking to him by any means. He asked me every question under the sun, and I had never agreed to the game of twenty questions, but the visions of the knife kept replaying in my head, so I obliged. He would supply me with information about himself after I answered each of his ridiculous questions. He was from Oakland. He was a “medicine supplier”. He had a daughter. A drug dealer once offered him some of the “brown” but he declined because that “shit was whack”. I was more hard than he was because I had more tattoos, but he had one on his neck so I knew who was “harder”. Basically this guy, who I later found out was 20 was attempting to impress me. He would stop at nothing to try to trump me at my game, and even asked me at one point if I believed in love.
The rest of my ride to Reno was spent sleeping. I passed out somewhere after our stop after Wendover, and when I decided that I couldn’t take another minute of talking to TRB. (He had commented when he got off the bus to smoke a cigarette, that I had better not try and go to sleep or he wasn’t going to have anyone to talk to. Thank god, I fell asleep. I couldn’t take anymore of his banter, he was white after all…and I knew that his game was tired. NICE TRY. ) I slept, and made in to Reno with a softer ego and a happiness in my heart as my family waited on the other side of the glass doors!
TO BE CONTINUED..
When I write here, you listen. It makes me feel like I am saying these things to you, and you get it. It helps me release. Helps me let go. I can’t believe it’s been six months. It seems like a lifetime since the last time I saw you, held your hand, looked into your eyes, loved you.
Today I just wanted you to be there and hold my hand. Tell me everything is gonna be fine….you promised.
How did I ever believe you?
