My first and last Greyhound

If you plan on traveling using a Greyhound bus--put aside our entire itinerary and don't having anything special planned a good five hours before you arrive to our final destination. I arrived at the bus station at 3:30 p.m., an hour before my bus would leave and the exact time the website said to arrive, (an hour before your schedule bus departure time). So I stood in line for my bus, since seating is first come first serve. I kept looking at my watch, anxious and excited to know where I would be in what I thought would be six hours. 4:30 rolled around and the line hadn't budged. The door to the platform wasn't opened and no official was even explaining why we weren't driving down the road already. I began to become worried and frustrated. At first I thought I was in the line for the wrong bus, and then began to assume that my bus had already left, and then began to panic at the thought that I would have to wait God knows how many more hours for another bus to take me down to Raleigh, North Carolina--my chosen destination. Since there wasn't a Greyhound employee in even earshot for me to holler at to ask why in the world my current location wasn't on a bus and instead standing in line, considering by now it was 4:45, I began to listen to the people around me to see if I could gather any info from their frustrated panicking as well. To some relief, I was assured I was on the right bus from the fact that one lady was going to Charlotte, so we were going in the same general direction. I stood there not only confused and frustrated, but helpless. It's not like my complaining to the bus driver would actually make us go faster, but a little info update would be nice. The doors finally propped opened and we were admitted on and herded on the bus. I found my way down the aisle and sat in an empty window seat, a traveling requirement I've established whether I am taking a train or plane and now, bus. We left Washington, D.C. at 5:05 p.m.--35 minutes behind schedule.

"Good afternoon," the bus driver's voice thundered throughout the bus cabin. I unenthusiastic "good afternoon" came from the passengers (I could only imagine why).

"You guys are pitiful! Good afternoon!"

We then responded a little more joyful in our response,"Good afternoon!"

"This is my home and you will respect it as such. Now my name is Andrea."

She went to go on to explain some simple rules of the road to us, such as cell phone volume, personal electronic device volumes, disposing of trash along with some personal hygiene regulations.

"I speak one time and I'll cut it dry, keep your shoes on and break your wind to a minimum!"

Off we drove out of D.C. west over the Potomac and onto Richmand, our first stop and transfer for some passengers. The bus needed to be serviced when we arrived so we all had to exit the bus. I brought a magazine with me, my wallet, phone and iPod. After using the restroom, I found my way to a bench next to an older African American gentleman. I began to read my Running Times and listen to my music.

"Is that hiking?" the man next to me asked. I took out an ear bud and asked,"Padron me?

"

"Is that hiking?"

"No, he's running, it's a running magazine, I run, but I mean I hike too."

"Do you run to lose weight or keep up your endurance?"

"Well, I mean I ran all throughout middle and high school in sports, so I just do it, I like it."

I was a little shocked he asked about my personal motive for running, especially the weight loss one. I run primarily because I like being active and it keeps you in shape and healthy, but not for weight loss. We began to talk about where I run and I told him that I run from my apartment towards the Capitol and down the National Mall, past all the monuments and sometimes, across the Potomac.

"I live in D.C." I had heard myself tell him. I live in D.C.



I couldn't believe I said that. This really startled me as I began to continue a conversation with Ty, as he later introduced himself. Up until that point, I would say I live in California but just here for the semester. I wouldn't say I live in D.C. I mean, I know I technically do live in D.C. but it was an idea that I didn't want to acknowledge and define myself with. I was a Californian, I was from the West Coast, where the sun sets over the Pacific--I wasn't going to give myself credit for being an East Coaster. But I did. three months after adapting to city life, carrying flats to work while keep high heels in my desk, socializing and talking about the latest gossip in D.C. (mostly political) and dressing a little more business than casual, I was beginning to see the assimilation take place. Not only am I a Californian, but I'm also a Washingtonian.

We began to casually talk about our lives. He told me that he had lived throughout New Jersey, D.C. and was now headed back towards his current home, Atlanta to start a quilt making company. He had told me how he had, for a couple years, an organic deli, but had to close it because of rent increases.
Ty was soft spoken with a sweetness in his voice. Probably in his 40s, his skin was weathered and aged but gentle and friendly. His brown eyes, sparkled in the florescent lights from above. His thick, curly black beard was peppered with gray strands like neatly placed stitches in an embroidered piece of fabric.

We soon wrapped up our conversation as he had to get in line to board his bus, which turned out to be the same bus I was on. I had a reboarding pass, so I was able to board first. Luckily, for Ty striking up a conversation with me, I had forgot the fact that we arrived in Richmond at 7:35 pm, five minutes past the time printed on my ticket that we were suppose to be leaving for Raleigh. As new passengers made their way on the bus, we didn't leave the station until 9:06 p.m.--a good hour and half behind. I wasn't as pissed at this point, more so there was nothing I could do and me just getting upset would just make my stomach hurt and life miserable. So in went my iPod headphones and up went my feet on the seat next to me. I tried to dose off to sleep, but the fact that the seats weren't that comfy and my back was up against the cold, metal windowpane, I just sat there with my eyes closed, listening to the Garden State soundtrack on shuffle.

I arrived in Raleigh, North Carolina...FINALLY!! The lights inside the bus flipped on as we pulled into the station. My eyes burned and I squinted trying to find my friend Andrew outside. To much light, my contacts were dry and I could barely manage to look two feet in front of me. I stumbled off the bus, exhausted, yet overjoyed with the fact that I had made it, only two hours later than the expected time of 10:35 which was printed on my ticket. Though I had made it, Andrew and I still had another three hours to go to Charlotte. But at least it wasn't on a bus.