bus trip

“You’re sure I have time to eat?” I asked the lady behind the greyhound desk. “Plenty of time suga” She assured me, “I’ll page you if the bus comes early.” Thus assured I walked across the small lobby into the bus station café. Sitting down I ordered some food and stared across the restaurant into the adjoining gas station. I had just come from there about an hour ago. “We don’t sell ANY kind of alcohol here!” the clerk had snapped at me. Her eyes narrowed as she peered at me over her small glasses. I thanked her and walked out, glancing at the line of people behind me. They frowned at me. Shaking off the disapproval I walked across the street and got a small bottle of Jack and a large coke. I had never been on a bus before, but if Mr. Daniels could make me laugh at Adam Sandler, then the bus ride wouldn’t be too bad.

Since I was vehicleless, I had to get up north to pick up my motorcycle without borrowing something I had to return down south. The bus was the answer. Plain and simple. Preparation H isn’t glamorous until you consider the alternative. Nuff said. Yeah. So the food came, and went and I headed back to the lobby to await the bus. I wave at the lady and an awful look came across her face. “Your not on the bus?”

Fifteen minutes later I was walking up the interstate carrying my bag and motorcycle helmet. I had hitched with good success before, but I was just walking off some steam right now. Eventually I’d stick out my thumb, but for now it felt good just to walk. A white truck hit his brakes after passing me and pulled over. He backed up to within twenty feet of me and stopped. As I continued at the same pace towards him I glanced at the driver who was craning his neck to see me. When I was about ten feet away he hit the gas, spraying me with rocks and dirt from the wheel that was off the road. I’m not sure what the hell he was actually trying to accomplish, but it was such a random dick thing to do I started laughing.

I fared better with the next couple of trucks that pulled over. “Need a ride?” Was the usual question. I always was pretty open to the idea, being a hitchhiker and all, so it turns out I started making good time up the road. Not once did I stick my thumb out, the shiny motorcycle helmet drew a sympathetic crowd on its own, swinging from my hand as I walked down the baking asphalt. The general plan was to get to Jackson where I would catch the next bus to Ruston. I had tests the next day, so getting there was a priority. Seven rides later I was about an hour from Jackson pondering the excellent gas-economy/possible butt-rape pros and cons of hitchhiking when a yet another truck pulled over. No sooner had I hopped in and we drove off the truck starts vibrating on one side. I voiced my opinion that it felt like one of the tires might be about to blow, so he pulled off at the next exit. Sure enough the tire blew out about a mile from the interstate and we slid off the road into a ditch were we ended up on a pretty steep incline. He killed the engine and we sat for awhile in perpendicular silence. “Soo, I’m Dan Wahl, and I don’t have the best luck…” He looked down at me. “I see that”

Fortunately I’m a platinum AAA member and we were back on the road in thirty minutes. Being the grateful type, the guy brought me all the way to the bus station. Nice guy. I was tempted to continue to hitch to Ruston, but it looked like rain and since Lady Luck apparently had been flicking her sadistic little bean to my plight all day, I wasn’t going to chance it. Having some time to kill, I teamed up with a street sweeper named Detroit and he showed me around old Jackson and gave me a tour and history lesson. Interesting stuff. I bought him a hamburger and hopped in line for my bus.

Whew. It was like Mississippi had coughed up the most interesting array of people it could work up. There was plenty to stare at, but nothing I wanted to sit next to for the next seven hours. Again the helmet was working its magic; all the looks coming my way hit me briefly then lingered on the helmet. Finally the bus loaded up and so did I. That was the best trip I’ve taken in awhile. The juice dropped me off just about the same times as the bus did. It could have waited a little while longer, because even though the ticket said Ruston, it was actually the next town over.

It was a little late to be calling anybody so I started walking. On cue, the rain started coming down. When the hail started falling I found yet another use for the helmet. The ones hitting my shoulder hurt like hell, so I was quite glad the noggin was protected. After arriving at my apartment, I collapsed on my couch and closed my eyes. Then came a knock on the door. I opened it to find my neighbor staring out into the raging storm. “Dude!” he said breathless and wide-eyed, “It’s hailing!”