My Greyhound Experience

It had been a lovely few days driving through Wine Country with my friends Gregory, Joey, and David, but they were off to an adventure in Reno, and I had my own plans for the new year. A bus back to L.A. was the most economically feasible option. Speaking of....why in the world does a TRAIN cost almost twice as much and take almost twice as long as a BUS? At any rate...

There was a pretty long line of people at the Greyhound station heading to Los Angeles from Oakland. I got there around 11:15PM for my 11:30PM ride, but was quite disheartened to hear them still calling people onto the 10:30 bus as it didn't really bode well for an on-time departure.

Heeding the warnings of my boyfriend's teenaged cousins ("Don't sit in the back of the bus! It's where the weirdoes are!"), I grabbed a seat within the first 5 rows from our driver when we finally boarded (a mere forty minutes after we were supposed to have left). I thanked my lucky stars to be by myself because there's no armrest in between seats (what's up with that, Greyhound?), and the only way I could finally get comfortable was to put my bag on the seat next to me and lean my arm on it.

Unfortunately, Blurting Man (in the back of the bus) made it tough to actually get rest. It went something like this...quiet, quiet, quiet, quiet, AAAAHHHHHH!, quiet, quiet, quiet, quiet, BLEH! BLEH!, quiet quiet quiet quiet quiet quiet quiet (ah, drifting off to sleep) quiet quiet, HUH! HUH!. You get the idea.

At around 2 AM, Blurter had finally settled down and I was finally almost asleep when the most awful, bright lights were unceremoniously thrown on with the gruff announcement that if we were too comfortable we'd better scoot over, because the bus was about to fill up in San Jose. Our driver had the subtlety of a mack truck. He was an amalgam of the meanest school bus drivers of my youth.

The bus did, in fact, fill up, and there was some excitement at the back of the bus that required a security guard to come on for a time ("That's my seat, OME-BRAY. I told you not to take my seat," "Sit down, man, what's wrong with you?" and such), but at last all were seated and we got rolling.

On my end, at least, it could have been much worse. I was away from the back, and the man who sat beside me was quiet, odor-free, and of average girth. Still, an armrest between us while we tried to sleep would have been really handy.

When at last our big stretch and bathroom stop occurred, it was at a 24 hour Burger King in Coalinga. Now I don't mean to sound like I don't appreciate a shit-smeared bathroom with no toilet paper, but, well, I don't. It frightened my pee back in.

Although we had thirty minutes at the stop, the bus driver sufficiently scared me with his warning of leaving us there to wait six hours for the next bus if we were a minute late. I was within ten feet of the bus the whole time.

Incidentally, all those buses sitting there with their engines idling for half an hour is gross. Where's your commitment to the environment, Greyhound? I'm pretty sure the buses can be turned off.

A plus is that they do offer internet and plugs for your electronic devices. Of course, the internet was so slow, I was asleep by the time it connected.

I think it may have been slightly more pleasant if we were not overnighting it. Maybe.

At last, seven hours and change later, we pulled in to the North Hollywood station and I grabbed my things and ran as quickly as my sore back and cramped legs would allow into the car with Jaime waiting to take me….to Vegas. Five more hours in a car...