I'm alive! ALIVE!
Jun. 20th, 2005 10:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stoopbeckSo. I made it to and from Tuscaloosa by bus without dying! Woo!
Here's what we did.
That was fun.
And here's what happened on the bus rides to and from:
Although I'd hoped to get a seat to myself on the ride up to Tuscaloosa, I ended up on the way back end of the bus. With a lady who was, to put it nicely, bonkers.
At first she didn't seem that bad, but then she started rubbing in some sort of hair pomade that made my lungs close up and my sinuses beg for mercy. And then she started talking about her nerve pills and how they were in her other bag. She got up to go to the bathroom, and didn't come back for an hour and thirty minutes. When she did come back, she was using "colorful metaphors" and talking about how she "might be crazy, but not that crazy." She snatched up her stuff and went back to the back again. So I kinda had a seat to myself.
Another nice thing [sarcasm!] was the bus driver. It was none other than that wonderful bipolar absolutely bonkers Mrs. Knight, who drove a school bus when I was in high school.
The Birmingham bus stop was wretched. Here's my rant I wrote in my journal while I waited for the bus to leave:
In Birmingham. After waiting near on 30 minutes while breathing deep the amazing cornucopia of smells [exhaust, burnt rubber, cigarrete smoke, vomit-- all the classics] they told me that, since I didn't have a reboarding pass I'd have to wait for everyone else to board. About half the population of the world streamed past me into the bus. Then they told me I could get into the next bus, since "they're both going to the same place." So I waited there. And then they let people get on. However-- when I asked about my massive bag that had to be stowed, they told me I could leave it on the pavement. Right. I'm gonna leave my pack on the pavement of a busy bus terminal in the center of B-ham subject to the whims of indifferent loaders. Gah. So I waited while the other half of the world's population streamed past me into the new bus. Finally I had it. I don't know if it was against regs or what, but I loaded my own damn bag. Wen I finally got on I had to share a seat. I'm sitting in a group of guys having vocal conversations about the transvestite on the bus with them previously. My new seatmate's idea of a witty opening line is "You look tired." Thanks. It's my specialty. I do it for all the young gentlemen. Die, please and thank you. And the babies. About 4 or 5 babies. Shoot me, please.
That bus didn't leave until the time it was supposed to arrive in Tuscaloosa. Die, bus. Die.
One positive thing about the whole seatmate guy thing was that he left me with one of the best lines ever. He was talking about a previous trip through Chilton County, famed for its peaches, and how he'd passed their famous peach-shaped water tower. "Hey," he said, trying to be funny. "Is that where James lives?"
Dead silence on the bus. Death looks abounded.
Finally someone spoke the sentiment that everyone riding had harbored in their hearts: "Hey, man, don't talk smack about the peach." *giggle-snort*
The trip back was also interesting because I had a 2+ hour layover in the dreaded Birmingham station. I had a guy sit next to me and try to intimidate me into giving him cigs or money or something, but after I deftly ignored him by working on my Father's Day card, he left.
And now I'm home. Woo!
But now I miss Sarah. :[
Here's what we did.
That was fun.
And here's what happened on the bus rides to and from:
Although I'd hoped to get a seat to myself on the ride up to Tuscaloosa, I ended up on the way back end of the bus. With a lady who was, to put it nicely, bonkers.
At first she didn't seem that bad, but then she started rubbing in some sort of hair pomade that made my lungs close up and my sinuses beg for mercy. And then she started talking about her nerve pills and how they were in her other bag. She got up to go to the bathroom, and didn't come back for an hour and thirty minutes. When she did come back, she was using "colorful metaphors" and talking about how she "might be crazy, but not that crazy." She snatched up her stuff and went back to the back again. So I kinda had a seat to myself.
Another nice thing [sarcasm!] was the bus driver. It was none other than that wonderful bipolar absolutely bonkers Mrs. Knight, who drove a school bus when I was in high school.
The Birmingham bus stop was wretched. Here's my rant I wrote in my journal while I waited for the bus to leave:
In Birmingham. After waiting near on 30 minutes while breathing deep the amazing cornucopia of smells [exhaust, burnt rubber, cigarrete smoke, vomit-- all the classics] they told me that, since I didn't have a reboarding pass I'd have to wait for everyone else to board. About half the population of the world streamed past me into the bus. Then they told me I could get into the next bus, since "they're both going to the same place." So I waited there. And then they let people get on. However-- when I asked about my massive bag that had to be stowed, they told me I could leave it on the pavement. Right. I'm gonna leave my pack on the pavement of a busy bus terminal in the center of B-ham subject to the whims of indifferent loaders. Gah. So I waited while the other half of the world's population streamed past me into the new bus. Finally I had it. I don't know if it was against regs or what, but I loaded my own damn bag. Wen I finally got on I had to share a seat. I'm sitting in a group of guys having vocal conversations about the transvestite on the bus with them previously. My new seatmate's idea of a witty opening line is "You look tired." Thanks. It's my specialty. I do it for all the young gentlemen. Die, please and thank you. And the babies. About 4 or 5 babies. Shoot me, please.
That bus didn't leave until the time it was supposed to arrive in Tuscaloosa. Die, bus. Die.
One positive thing about the whole seatmate guy thing was that he left me with one of the best lines ever. He was talking about a previous trip through Chilton County, famed for its peaches, and how he'd passed their famous peach-shaped water tower. "Hey," he said, trying to be funny. "Is that where James lives?"
Dead silence on the bus. Death looks abounded.
Finally someone spoke the sentiment that everyone riding had harbored in their hearts: "Hey, man, don't talk smack about the peach." *giggle-snort*
The trip back was also interesting because I had a 2+ hour layover in the dreaded Birmingham station. I had a guy sit next to me and try to intimidate me into giving him cigs or money or something, but after I deftly ignored him by working on my Father's Day card, he left.
And now I'm home. Woo!
But now I miss Sarah. :[
no subject
Date: 2005-06-21 04:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-21 05:16 am (UTC)