Bus Ride Home

I wrote this during the seven hour bus ride home to Pittsburgh. Enjoy!

This day has been full of busy. Daniel woke me up at 7:30 indavertently and just laying on the couch wasn’t much fun so I got up and realized that I hadn’t really packed anything useful for my fun trip to Pittsburgh. So, I grabbed at random things from the dirty clothes bin (free laundry at home!) and hopefully I ended up with an assortment of things rather than ten shirts and no underwear.

Rob came up yesterday! All the way from Dover, NJ! Thanks, Rob! He got in a bit after I finished work, and met up with us at Mark’s apartment where I was preparing the meal of my life. Oh, it was fantastic – sliced baguette pieces and Boursin spread to start, then Mark made garlic bread using said baguette and minced garlic. Next was steamed asparagus with melted butter (really margarine, but you couldn’t tell). After this carbfest was the main course, turkey meatballs in a sweet pepper tomato sauce with mushrooms and basil over spaghetti. Dessert was mini sprinkle cupcakes. And everything was delightful.

Do you know what made it even more delightful? We got to use the SlapChop! Oh yes indeedy! The thing actually works like it shows on TV! My favorite, however, is the “but wait, there’s more” Graty, which grates cheese like whoa and cleans up so easy. Mom and I came up with the idea that Mark and I should go as Vince Offer and a hooker for Halloween – Mark can carry around the SlapChop and have a headset in, and I’ll have a palm print on my face and wear nothing but a ShamWow. We’re classy devils.

Anyway, since we’re wild and crazy in addition we went out after dinner for a walk and met Pat for drinks. I’d love to be all adventurous and try different bars but we ended up back at Rancho’s for their pricey, decent margaritas. I didn’t end up going to bed until about 1:45.

Back to my tale, so we get up and my stuff is thrown into the suitcase and I manage to dress myself AND make omelets for my boys (with cheddar, spinach, and mushrooms). We went to the West Side Market to grab some snacks for this bus ride and then Rob drove me to work so I was twenty minutes early.

Work was great, in that few people were there and those that were had small appetites. I’m about halfway done with The Cider House Rules and can’t put it down. John Irving is one of those authors that I really, really like reading and then immediately forget after I finish the book.

So, the plan was to meet Mark at the 59^th street downtown subway platform at 4:40. From there, we would take the 1 train down to Canal Street, then walk to the bus with plenty of time to spare. What could possibly go wrong? Well, the fact that I’m retarded and didn’t realize that hey, Canal Street may stretch from one end of Manhattan to the other. And guess what? We’re on the wrong side.

It’s now about 5:10, and we’re three odd miles away from where we’re supposed to be. Not the end of the world, just grab a taxi, right? Well, not only is there bumper to bumper traffic the ENTIRE way with stoplights every five feet, you can’t get to the far end of Canal Street without turning down some convoluted alley and cutting across East Broadway and turning back up again. Our poor cabbie had the unfortunate experience of me saying “I reeaaaaaaaaaaally appreciate that you’re helping us get there fast. Really. Did I mention that we’re in a hurry? Oh yes we are.” He was a super nice guy though and I believe that he husted as fast as one could hustle in a traffic jam. As soon as we got somewhere near where 34 Canal Street could be, Mark took off and left me his bag so that he could start running to this mystery bus (it was now 5:31 and I was having a heart attack). I gave the cab driver everything I had (about $18 for a ten dollar cab ride, and worth every penny) and awkwardly tried to balance two pillowcases, a backpack, and a wheelie suitcase down this unevenly paved road. By some lucky and incredibly unlikely chance, Mark managed to grab the guy who was driving the bus the moment before he shut the doors and probably made some aspirant heaving to indicate that there were two of us and I was still lumbering towards them. The luggage doors were already shut by the time I got there so I had to haul it down the tiny, blocked aisle. And, oh, I thought I was going to die of heart failure.

But we’re here! En route! I think we’re around… Altoona? maybe? at the moment, at a rest stop. I daren’t go to the bathroom or anything because one time I went to Washington DC I was almost left behind when a friend and I were getting a wonderful Cinnabon and spent too long revelling in its sugary temptation.

Mark is alternately a good and boring travel companion. He sat up and chatted for awhile and then his throat started to hurt so he retreated back to his set of seats (the bus isn’t full so we got greedy) and did some stuff on the computer. I managed to sleep for awhile and when I got up he was fiddling with his phone. Next I knew, he was asleep and has been for the past two hours.

Man, I hate sleeping on buses. I always feel like I’ve slept for several terrible, noisy hours but it’s usually only about thirty-five minutes. And there’s always someone talking on their phone right in front of me.

Oh oh OH! Three things shocked me towards the beginning of the trip. I looked up at the front of the bus and a: the driver was SMOKING, b: he didn’t have a single window open, and c: I couldn’t smell a thing. There must be a remarkable air filtration system in place. Smoking! In an enclosed vehicle! Wow!

Now he’s outside smoking but I don’t know why he is bothering.