Friday, April 27, 2012

The Stories Matter Most


Some people warned me against bus travel. They thought it would be unsafe, dirty and full of undesirables. And yes, that word was used. I’m glad I did what I wanted instead. I think what I saw most instead was tenderness. A family from India guiding their mentally disabled teenage son, I could not always understand what they said because of their thick accents, but I could hear the kindness in their voices. So many other stories I remember. What I felt was so many people making the best of what life has dealt them, so many people just like me really.


Started my trip with a Harley limo to the bus station-such a balmy 61 degrees in mid- November that I almost just stayed on the bike.



Never ever bring a twenty to eat at bus stations. They take coins or one dollar bills mostly. Day one I was very hungry and thirsty. This morning the nice young man beside me saw me open my Altoids and a few minutes later he asked if he could have one, I was kind of embarrassed to admit I was so hungry I ate them all already, yes an entire container of breath mints. I did mention the vending machines did not take large bills, right?

It is a beautiful warm and sunny day in Cleveland. Never been this far from the east coast. I’ve met some nice folks and some characters already. It's going to be a wonderful day. I should be in Chicago this evening.If they say seven bus changes to get to your final destination count on twice that. We have changed buses unexpectedly quite a few times. The reasons ranged from a faulty light, driver’s seat issues and numerous other weird little things.


Buses have Wi-Fi these days and outlets to recharge your phone and computer. That is sweet, when it works. I’m still feeling quite mellow through it all. I find at a certain point day and night melt together. You eat whatever you can find when the bus makes a stop, and if that means sandwiches at three in the morning and a hot dog at nine in the morning it begins to feel normal. It stops mattering when you will arrive and if you are tired or hungry. You just let go and relax into it.



At our last bus rest stop this angry looking, tattooed black man with bulging biceps and tattered clothes went out to the parking lot for a smoke after everyone else had come back in from having theirs. After he lit up, he got up and started doing this intricate rain dance and after a minute this older lady who had been annoying everyone with bible tracts and born again talks for two hours straight went out and started dancing with him. He noticed her and just started dancing in patterns around her. Never forget it.



This pretty little Indian girl keeps smiling at me. Not even close to five feet tall she looks about sixteen and heavily pregnant. She never speaks, but grins every time our eyes meet. She is traveling alone. At one stop a fellow with crazy hair asks to sit beside her, even though there are plenty of other seats available. She nods and moves to the window and turns her back to him. Every time he leans forward she smiles at me behind his back as if to say she is okay. When she gets off in Omaha I notice she has no luggage but a boy about her age hugs and kisses her madly. They hold hands and happily walk away. I notice she has no winter coat and I worry. I hope life is good to them both.



Another bus tip, under all circumstances do not sit next to a man who pulls out a jug of lemonade, a gallon jug and begins drinking from it. Then out of his carry-on he pulls half a dozen jumbo heat and serve burritos. Pretty sure there are no clothes in his luggage and that he can eat them all, the burritos not his clothes. Time to change seats fast.



I arrived last night in Colorado after a fifty hour bus trip straight through, and somehow precisely on time. I met so many people, saw so many interesting things and heard a ton of stories. It is always the stories that interest me most about people, the stories they tell or don't tell.


So hungry I might kiss the man who brought me sandwich, and if he brought me a steak I might marry him. And I am not all that excited about marriage. Fortunately my son arrived to pick me up before anyone proposed.


2 comments:

  1. you are a braver woman than I am these days Kelly. My only bus trip was years ago when I went on a trip from Perth to Kalgoorlie in West Australia...a 6hr trip to meet a friend getting the train from the eastern states. I sat next to a chain smoking lady (it was allowed back then) and by the time we arrived I was so sick from tobacco and smoke fall-out and my butt was so sore from the hard seats, I vowed never to go on a bus trip again.....and I never have!! Loved your blog. xxx

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  2. Your buses are a LOT different Kelly and your experiences so much NOT ours over here I fear. What a lovely article, really enjoyed it and I can see how things are improving for you. I agree with the comment above; you are so brave and adventurous. Some journeys can indeed be hell....even into town!!

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