Generally Discontent

Travel Tip #43242: When you get change, spend it as fast as possible. It's amazing how many coins I've amassed in the last month. I fortunately put a big dent in my change collection when I had to pay for my last ticket to Boston, but I came away from Jeremy's place with even MORE change, and I hadn't spent any money in days! Maybe I have a magic penny or something, some spell that multiplies my money. That'd be pretty awesome, if I could convince the magic penny to multiply into bills, or maybe the magic penny has some sort of direct deposit policy or something. All I know, even an extra pound or two in my backpack makes a difference, and that fucker is heavy enough as it is.

I'm now officially out of Connecticut and on my way to Maryland. Riding through New Jersey right now, and it's as lovely and whimsical as I remember it. Yesterday, I packed my shit up at Jeremy's (and didn't do lewd things in his vegetable crisper as I had pondered - they were too nice) and then Jamie picked me up. The plan was: I'd go with Jamie and Andrea to some band playing somewhere, then I'd crash at their place and would get a ride to the bus depot the next day. And I'm happy to say that that's exactly what happened!

So we went to this place called Quality Time, which sounds about as gay as you can get, but it was really just a townie hangout, complete with NASCAR posters and a car hood with the Coors Light logo painted on it nailed to the ceiling. But that's not to say it was a bad place in any way. It was pretty decent, and had dart boards, so it was okay in my book.

What it also had was a batshit insane bartender! Or, well, maybe she was just a little loopy, I dunno. She seemed to have an attention span that would last to about "Can I have a bottle of-" before she became distracted by some glittering object. The reason she seemed nuts is probably because she was one of those people who like to joke around but don't let anyone else know they're joking around. That is to say, nothing in her mannerisms or facial expressions gave away that she was joking around. So she would act weird or offended or something, and you're left staring at her for ten seconds until she realizes that you didn't get her joke and so she then looks at you like you're nuts.

Uh, okay, I guess I didn't get a chance to really get to know this person, I'm just saying she reminded me of the type of person I just described and...ehh...okay, never mind.

The point is, we played darts and got drunk! Or I did, anyway. And it was good. The band was good too, an Irish duo that sounded strangely like They Might Be Giants. Actually, they could have been They Might Be Giants and I wouldn't have noticed. But I guess they were Andrea's friend's sister's cousin's father-in-law's brother's uncle's dentist's friends, so I guess they probably wouldn't be They Might Be Giants. I have nothing to base that on, though. All celebrities gotta be related to someone, after all.

Anyway. Drove back to the house in the torrential rain that WON'T FUCKING STOP, farted around, then off to bed. And I had to say bye to them again today, which sucked. But it was good to at least have a drunken send off. And now I'm on the bus. The second bus, that is.

How was the first bus, you ask? Oh, thank you for your concern! It was quite shitty! Rather, the bus driver, who I will refer to as Rufus for lack of a better name, was shitty. Rufus stood there on his cell phone while he tore tickets, then waved people this way and that, as if we were annoying him. Then, when he finally got on the bus ten minutes late, he didn't do the customary "Welcome to Peter Pan Bus Lines, my name is Rufus and we'll be heading to New York and be there at 2:45. There is a restroom in the back, no smoking, don't talk too loud on your cell phones, do not remove tag from mattress, your mileage may vary, blah blah blah." thing that most bus drivers do. Not that that stuff is necessary, but he sure didn't give the impression that he enjoyed driving a bunch of smelly people on a bus for a bazillion hours a day. I mean, the nerve of some people, know what I mean?

Anyway, fine, he's a little antisocial. Whatever. But then Rufus' lack of customer service skills really had its time to shine when we got to New Haven. Apparently we were stopping so folks who were connecting to the Amtrak line could get off. But all Rufus said was, "This stop is for everyone continuing on from here on the-" and then he shut his intercom off and left the bus. This led to 90% of the people on the bus to get off and eventually figure out that they weren't supposed to. Watching Rufus from the bus window, it was clear that he didn't really care if there was no one on the bus when he got back on. I might be so bold as to say that Rufus was the most apathetic bus driver I have ever seen. But he wasn't finished with his ass sucking. Rufus still had to get us to New York, after all.

And he did, eventually, fifteen minutes late after a strange and convoluted bus ride through Harlem and about a thousand other various neighborhoods of New York City. We finally made it to the Port Authority, where everyone shambled off the bus and Rufus stood outside staring at some indeterminate point in space. I didn't realize until later that Rufus had also failed to give the good-bye speech, which included such precious information as "If you're continuing on to Baltimore, please go to Gate 74".

My ticket said "Boarding #9", which usually means Gate 9. But after having a smoke, calling Vani, and remember just how frickin' huge NYC is (and sorta wishing I had planned on staying for a couple of days, but oh well), I staggered up and down escalators trying to find Gate 9. The fact that my backpack weighs roughly the same amount as a Sherman Tank with an elephant strapped to the top made this journey quite fucking fantastically fun, and I recommend it for anyone who prays for death on an hourly basis. Anyway, my bus wasn't at Gate 9, and I had about fifteen minutes to figure out where it was in the mammoth collection of escalators and staircases that is the Port Authority. And I freely blame Rufus for all of it, even if some of it wasn't his fault. Damn you, Rufus!

In the end, though, I managed to get myself a cheeseburger and fries and make it to my bus with about a minute to spare. The bus was mostly empty, and our driver Carl was as nice as nice can be. We zoomed off out of New York, through New Jersey and Delaware, and finally to the Baltimore Travel Plaza, which is connected to a Best Western in what I can only refer to as a field of parking lots. Then Vani and Jay picked me up, and I was rearing to go sit on my ass for another half hour while we drove to their place, but I was sure happy to be there.