Diamondback blogger Shea Winpigler writes about her bus trip to Boston

I took a trip to Boston this weekend to see a friend of mine and had the luxury of taking a bus.

This bus was fantastic. Cheap and futuristic. On-board outlets and wifi? I was thrown. One, I didn’t know wifi went mobile. Two, this isn’t the year 2059. Needless to say, I thought I had propelled 45 years into the future when I stepped onto the MegaBus.

Seriously? Mobile wifi? How did I miss this….

I sat in the back of the bus on the way home from Boston. The fumes of toilet cleaner, sanitizer and bus-people filled the hot, crowded air. Yum. Perfect time for a candle. You’re welcome, Yankee. 

I, unknowingly, became the gatekeeper to the bathroom. Helping people get in and saving those who got tossed around by the wicked movements of the highway. One man was so disoriented upon exiting the bathroom that he fell back into my arms. I cradled him as if he were my first-born.

“Shh, my child,” I whispered to him.

After downing a water bottle, I eventually took my turn in the restroom. I locked myself in and was shoved from door to seat. Not your usual “unzip and sit” but effective.

Release. Stand. Zip.

It’s like stop, drop and roll. But on a whole different level.

As I stood with my knees shaking attempting to reach for the hand sanitizer above my head, the bus jerked, propelling my body forward and slamming my face into the toilet paper dispenser. F**k! Doesn’t this bathroom come with an insurance policy?

I’m going to die from a teepee head bashing. A TP-HB! Hashtag.

If I drown in here from bus pee and bus poop, I swear. Greyhound bus, I will GReyhOUND you like you’re my illegitimate child. FOR TWO WEEKS. WITHOUT A CELLPHONE.

No drowning? Excellent. I accept longevity.

I have a layover in New York City. Not a bad station, although it smells like several rats have died there.

A police officer comes up to me with a curious look on his face. “Are you… a teenager?” I take this … as pedophile as anyone really could.

“No … I’m 21.”

“Can I … see your ID?”

“…. yes …….”

He was looking for a red headed runaway girl. It wasn’t me. I don’t have red hair. And I’m not running away. Although, I do commend him on complimenting my youthfulness. While leaving he added “tell your high-lightest she does good work.”

Hairdressers are a thing of the past. I have HIGH-LIGHTESTS.

I get in line for my next bus and I’m pretty far back. When I get close enough to see the ticket checker, he stops the line. Full. Luckily, after talking to an unhelpful 80-year-old information desk clerk, I find another bus and get on first. Second seat.

Window. Hallelujah. Let’s get this trip on the road.

The bus breaks down on the side of the highway. GREAT.

I’m half asleep because I woke up at 5 a.m. but all I hear are patron complaining. “When are we going to get on another bus!” “I’m hot!” “This is ridiculous!”

Apparently, it was incredibly hot on the bus, but, I was perfectly fine. From the groans and moans of the passengers, however, I figured it was getting steamier as we remained idle.

…

tehe

Several cars pay a visit, a repair truck, a police officer and two other buses, but no one was getting us anywhere.

The repairman said “good luck.” The state trooper said, “sit tight,” and the bus drivers said “goodbye,” continuing on their routes. We’re now an hour behind schedule, so I just fall asleep to the soothing sounds of frustration. Napping passes time.

Another bus! Yay! We all hop on and our bus driver starts to kick it into high gear.

He’s been outside, up and down a lot of stairs and is relatively large. His breathing is racing, unlike the current state of our bus. I look over at the chick to my left, she says “and just when we thought we were going home. Now he’s having a stroke.”

He didn’t. And now I’m eating an omelet at home.

To read more from Shea check out her recent posts below:

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