You should know that while writing this, I have high hopes of this being one of the last greyhound trips I have to take. And if it’s not actually my last, which is probably more accurate, I cherish the thought of a shift from habitual to sporadic.
I am not the kind of rider that people strike up conversations with. I am not interested, frankly. This should not be deemed as superiority nor general unfriendliness. When I board the bus, I have a mission in mind; a schedule of things I’ve liked to have read, written or watched by the time I leave. Casual conversation just does not fit. Although I did see a man who matched the description of a leprechaun pirate (long red beard, pirate-like doo rag, luminous pot/cauldron) on the queue to Philadelphia. Him, I would have talked to. Anything short of this kind of fantastical hybrid and I’m not interested.
I am consistently shocked to see how foreign of a concept this is for other travelers, however. Take the gentleman behind me, who because of his boisterous demeanor, I have discovered recently came to the US from Pakistan. If I had to guess his hobbies, they would include talking loudly on a cell phone and interrupting other people’s train of thought. He is seated next to a rather disinterested woman content to both close her eyes when the conversation drifts and stare out the window longingly. Our astute conversationalist seizes the opportunity to talk to someone who is not on his cell phone and begins a dialogue that can only be described as “chatting her up.” It is one of those conversations that swirl widely and I gradually become impressed at his ability to get so much out of her. My assigned text eventually gets cast aside and I soon begin to snoop, an activity that L is known famously for, even at the detriment of creating interesting discussions of our own. The woman is going to New York to see her “ex-flame” whose birthday happens to be today. She is feeling conflicted about making such a visit but there’s “something in her heart that tells her to go to him.” I envy her impetuousness and wonder where our male friend will take the conversation from here. Considering the current circumstances, retrieving a number seems unlikely if not impossible. His tactic of questioning her love is predictable and met with a decent amount of resistance and is an amateur move since this declaration of sentiment requires involving herself in a 5 hour bus ride. Our man is persistent but the immediacy of the exchange is now long gone and I am left listening to the come on’s of man who is clearly out of his league. He has done his best. There is always the way back home to consider.
The trip to Washington provided another similar conversation in that it was loud enough for even those not meticulously collecting anecdotes to blog about later might take notice. Two riders had somehow discovered they were both British and just like that an ex-pat bond was formed. This led to an exchange filled with reminiscing that is a consistently unpleasant and exclusionary activity that rears its ugly head at least once in any given large social interaction. (“You grew up in Chattanooga too!? Did you go to East Ridge High-School? Did you know…”) Although I never quite mustered up the energy to take notice of the nuts and bolts, lots of flirty giggling ensued. I then decided that next to a wailing toddler that this might be the most aggravating noise imaginable on a Coach bus. This is no place for mating. Just ask the guy in the back.
-m
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
The cat is out of the bag (Today's NY TIMES)
New York to Boston for $1? Yes, for Some Who Call Early
By KEN BELSON
Published: March 25, 2008
For travelers who want to get from New York to Boston for less than it would cost for a cup of coffee at Starbucks, two emerging bus lines may have the answer.
Megabus.com plans to announce on Tuesday that it will begin service between New York and seven other East Coast cities starting on May 30.
Two-year-old Megabus.com, a subsidiary of Coach USA, is based in Paramus, N.J., and is structured much like Southwest and other low-cost airlines. Tickets are sold on the Internet and by telephone, with the best deals for those who buy tickets the earliest. The first seats on the runs between New York and Boston sell for as little as $1, for one-way fares, with prices rising to as high as $14 as the departure date approaches.
Megabus.com’s announcement comes three weeks after a news came from another bus company, BoltBus, a division of Greyhound, that it would introduce similar services between New York, Boston and Washington, also starting at $1 a fare. Prices rise to as much as $25 for a one-way fare between New York and Washington.
Megabus.com buses are outfitted with movie screens and free wireless Internet connections, and customers can book tickets on the company’s Web site with cellphones or BlackBerry smart phones. The company runs only express routes between cities; buses stop only occasionally so drivers can take a break.
“We don’t make stops five or six times along the way, which makes us similar to driving your car,” said Dale Moser, president of Megabus.com, a sister company of the Gray Line New York Sightseeing bus line. “And you’re guaranteed a seat.”
A BoltBus official said the company would not be outdone by Megabus.com. BoltBus “is the best of all worlds in terms of extreme value and on-board service, with three inches of extra leg room and electrical outlets at every seat,” said Dustin Clark, a company spokesman.
Megabus.com buses to Baltimore, Buffalo, Boston, Philadelphia, Toronto and Washington will pick up and drop off passengers on the northeast corner of Eighth Avenue and West 31st Street, outside Pennsylvania Station. Buses to Atlantic City will leave from the Port Authority Bus Terminal nine blocks north. The company will operate 11 departures a day to Boston and Washington.
Both the BoltBus and Megabus.com fares are far below regular, nonrefundable Greyhound tickets, which run $33 for a one-way ticket between Boston and New York.
To introduce riders to its service, Megabus.com plans to offer free tickets to customers who book reservations for May 30 to June 5.
More than 900,000 customers have ridden on Megabus.com to and from its two existing hubs, Chicago and Los Angeles, which now serve 22 other cities, Mr. Moser said.
He added that with airlines adding fuel surcharges and gasoline prices rising, travelers who do not typically ride buses might look at his service.
About 35 percent of the company’s customers are young professionals from 18 to 30, and another 30 percent are women from 30 to 55 who do not want to drive into the city, Mr. Moser said. Another 19 percent are what he called “silver surfers,” elderly passengers who want to visit family and friends and often travel during nonpeak periods.
Transportation experts say that to succeed in New York, Megabus.com needs to make bus travel more alluring and dispel the notion that it is for people who cannot afford trains or planes, or do not own a car. To do that, the company must convince customers that it offers better service than other bus companies.
“There’s certainly the perception that buses are for poor people and people without cars,” said Jeffrey M. Zupan, a senior fellow for transportation at the Regional Plan Association. “The way they’ll overcome it is to provide a first-class service. Give people a newspaper and cappuccino to create the feeling they are not second-class citizens.
By KEN BELSON
Published: March 25, 2008
For travelers who want to get from New York to Boston for less than it would cost for a cup of coffee at Starbucks, two emerging bus lines may have the answer.
Megabus.com plans to announce on Tuesday that it will begin service between New York and seven other East Coast cities starting on May 30.
Two-year-old Megabus.com, a subsidiary of Coach USA, is based in Paramus, N.J., and is structured much like Southwest and other low-cost airlines. Tickets are sold on the Internet and by telephone, with the best deals for those who buy tickets the earliest. The first seats on the runs between New York and Boston sell for as little as $1, for one-way fares, with prices rising to as high as $14 as the departure date approaches.
Megabus.com’s announcement comes three weeks after a news came from another bus company, BoltBus, a division of Greyhound, that it would introduce similar services between New York, Boston and Washington, also starting at $1 a fare. Prices rise to as much as $25 for a one-way fare between New York and Washington.
Megabus.com buses are outfitted with movie screens and free wireless Internet connections, and customers can book tickets on the company’s Web site with cellphones or BlackBerry smart phones. The company runs only express routes between cities; buses stop only occasionally so drivers can take a break.
“We don’t make stops five or six times along the way, which makes us similar to driving your car,” said Dale Moser, president of Megabus.com, a sister company of the Gray Line New York Sightseeing bus line. “And you’re guaranteed a seat.”
A BoltBus official said the company would not be outdone by Megabus.com. BoltBus “is the best of all worlds in terms of extreme value and on-board service, with three inches of extra leg room and electrical outlets at every seat,” said Dustin Clark, a company spokesman.
Megabus.com buses to Baltimore, Buffalo, Boston, Philadelphia, Toronto and Washington will pick up and drop off passengers on the northeast corner of Eighth Avenue and West 31st Street, outside Pennsylvania Station. Buses to Atlantic City will leave from the Port Authority Bus Terminal nine blocks north. The company will operate 11 departures a day to Boston and Washington.
Both the BoltBus and Megabus.com fares are far below regular, nonrefundable Greyhound tickets, which run $33 for a one-way ticket between Boston and New York.
To introduce riders to its service, Megabus.com plans to offer free tickets to customers who book reservations for May 30 to June 5.
More than 900,000 customers have ridden on Megabus.com to and from its two existing hubs, Chicago and Los Angeles, which now serve 22 other cities, Mr. Moser said.
He added that with airlines adding fuel surcharges and gasoline prices rising, travelers who do not typically ride buses might look at his service.
About 35 percent of the company’s customers are young professionals from 18 to 30, and another 30 percent are women from 30 to 55 who do not want to drive into the city, Mr. Moser said. Another 19 percent are what he called “silver surfers,” elderly passengers who want to visit family and friends and often travel during nonpeak periods.
Transportation experts say that to succeed in New York, Megabus.com needs to make bus travel more alluring and dispel the notion that it is for people who cannot afford trains or planes, or do not own a car. To do that, the company must convince customers that it offers better service than other bus companies.
“There’s certainly the perception that buses are for poor people and people without cars,” said Jeffrey M. Zupan, a senior fellow for transportation at the Regional Plan Association. “The way they’ll overcome it is to provide a first-class service. Give people a newspaper and cappuccino to create the feeling they are not second-class citizens.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
...and now for something completely similar
I feel compelled to address the announcement of the Bolt Bus, greyhound's new anti-Chinatown service that promises reduced prices, leather seats, wireless internet and electrical outlets. I'll admit that the day I first read about it, I was physically unable to concentrate on anything else, having bought tickets on this unseen yet miraculous vessel well into June. God bless free-market competition! I don't think I mean that.
BUT! Being trailblazers of the Mid-Atlantic travel that we are, you will read everything there is to know about the Bolt Bus here first! Its official debut review will be in two weeks by Lori has the distinct and prestegious pleasure of taking the inagural greyblog trip. I must admit to not reporting this news sooner out of selfish reasons, mainly I wanted to ensure that L and I bought all of our tickets first. I am sorry dear readers, but as Shirley MacLaine said in The Apartment, "that's the way it crumbles...cookie-wise"
BUT! Being trailblazers of the Mid-Atlantic travel that we are, you will read everything there is to know about the Bolt Bus here first! Its official debut review will be in two weeks by Lori has the distinct and prestegious pleasure of taking the inagural greyblog trip. I must admit to not reporting this news sooner out of selfish reasons, mainly I wanted to ensure that L and I bought all of our tickets first. I am sorry dear readers, but as Shirley MacLaine said in The Apartment, "that's the way it crumbles...cookie-wise"
always never again
An engagement led me elsewhere this past week, into the great unknown of Apex's Chinatown bus service. Without the discounted online prices of the greyhound NYC-DC fares, trips to Philadelphia require a different kind of coach.
In the past, I've been known to compare Chinatown buses to a modern-day equivalent of riding a boxcar although I'm pretty sure that never ever cost anyone thirty dollars. Either way, these buses are a disarmingly disorganized means of traveling especially after becoming accustomed to the degradation that comes with the greyhound bus company and their employees.
Don't get me wrong-a traveler is not necessarily valued within this urine soaked bus, in fact the drivers and ticket collectors could be described as even more spirited. The key difference is that the Chinatown bus attitude is more of a disrespect that stems from indifference instead of the outright contempt you'll find from Peter Pan. It might sound like a small difference but here at the greyblog we like to pick up on these context clues.
As I sit in my seat, most passengers seem confused as to where exactly the bus is going. Remarks are made about it going to Philadelphia while others hope New York. Miraculously it goes both places while also making a stop in Baltimore. Everybody wins? There's a sweet vulnerability in watching confused adults ask questions about where a bus they've already boarded is heading. Why did the board without knowing? They resemble those children who overslept on the school bus whose driver was not attentive in checking for them. They simply believe in the fact that they will get to their destination, somehow...maybe.
My absolute favorite part of the experience was our stop in Baltimore which wasn't so much a stop in the city itself but instead the parking lot of a Buck Horn family restaurant. Here people gather on top of a mound of dirt (!!!) and wait for the bus. I can't even imagine how this specific locale was initially chosen or how people can properly eyeball which mound of dirt to congregate to if they are the first person to arrive-I can only speculate. Perhaps those from Baltimore just have an eye for these kinds of things. As our new Baltimore friends join us, the driver exits the bus for a nice relaxing smoke. He is then seen chatting away with another driver as time slowly passes. 15 minutes...still chattin! For such a disgruntled man he seemed to become quite gregarious when in the right company!
It smells like jalapenos and somehow the trip takes just as long to get to Philadelphia as it does to New York, a city which to my knowledge is two hours further north. This might have something to do with the bus going exceedingly slow which leads me to text my friend in Philadelphia that the bus is driving "as if it had a dirty diaper." This kind of slow plodding apparently leads me to make unsavory metaphors. If appreciation for Greyhound once seemed illogical, it quickly became a reality.
-m
In the past, I've been known to compare Chinatown buses to a modern-day equivalent of riding a boxcar although I'm pretty sure that never ever cost anyone thirty dollars. Either way, these buses are a disarmingly disorganized means of traveling especially after becoming accustomed to the degradation that comes with the greyhound bus company and their employees.
Don't get me wrong-a traveler is not necessarily valued within this urine soaked bus, in fact the drivers and ticket collectors could be described as even more spirited. The key difference is that the Chinatown bus attitude is more of a disrespect that stems from indifference instead of the outright contempt you'll find from Peter Pan. It might sound like a small difference but here at the greyblog we like to pick up on these context clues.
As I sit in my seat, most passengers seem confused as to where exactly the bus is going. Remarks are made about it going to Philadelphia while others hope New York. Miraculously it goes both places while also making a stop in Baltimore. Everybody wins? There's a sweet vulnerability in watching confused adults ask questions about where a bus they've already boarded is heading. Why did the board without knowing? They resemble those children who overslept on the school bus whose driver was not attentive in checking for them. They simply believe in the fact that they will get to their destination, somehow...maybe.
My absolute favorite part of the experience was our stop in Baltimore which wasn't so much a stop in the city itself but instead the parking lot of a Buck Horn family restaurant. Here people gather on top of a mound of dirt (!!!) and wait for the bus. I can't even imagine how this specific locale was initially chosen or how people can properly eyeball which mound of dirt to congregate to if they are the first person to arrive-I can only speculate. Perhaps those from Baltimore just have an eye for these kinds of things. As our new Baltimore friends join us, the driver exits the bus for a nice relaxing smoke. He is then seen chatting away with another driver as time slowly passes. 15 minutes...still chattin! For such a disgruntled man he seemed to become quite gregarious when in the right company!
It smells like jalapenos and somehow the trip takes just as long to get to Philadelphia as it does to New York, a city which to my knowledge is two hours further north. This might have something to do with the bus going exceedingly slow which leads me to text my friend in Philadelphia that the bus is driving "as if it had a dirty diaper." This kind of slow plodding apparently leads me to make unsavory metaphors. If appreciation for Greyhound once seemed illogical, it quickly became a reality.
-m
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Rest Stop/Side of the Road Stop City
Girl behind me on line for bus seems to be in the midst of a serious situation. There are tears, discussions of prescriptions called in, of having enough medication to make it, of this morning being almost too much to handle. I plan to not sit near this girl.
12:01 bus from DC to NY. I almost didn't make the 12:01 bus. Three people ahead of me, and the driver announces that the bus is full. He asks if anyone is "riding single." I raise my hand, M pushes me to the front of the line, ticket is ripped, and I'm the last one to board. Second row, aisle seat.
The overhead is full. I manage.
I see an abundance of seats. The first rows behind the driver are empty, and most people are sitting sans seatmate. Bus driver even says that the bus so empty that if we, the people in the front, wanted to talk on our phones, we should sit towards the back.
Full, empty. Liars at Greyhound. I could have been made to wait another hour for next bus because this bus driver wanted less people on the bus. I probably have been made to wait another hour for the bus because a bus driver wanted less people on the bus.
We drive. It's only 12:56.
My seatmate is quiet. She enjoys listening to music, drinking Ethos water, and eating sandwiches.
One rest stop. In Maryland, an hour into our trip. I buy a travel mug that will let the world know (a) Don't bother me, I'm crabby and (b) I made a purchase in Maryland.
I text M, I text P and plan a trip to visit her next weekend, via car.
I watch the next two episodes of Picket Fences, Season One, Disc One. I watch the last two episodes of 30 Rock, Season One, Disc One. I study.
Bus driver pulls over, gets out, and adjusts side-view mirror. Loudmouth Married Woman repeatedly tells her husband that we have a flat tire. I worry slightly, and ready myself to text M and complain. We continue.
Bus driver pulls over immediately before the Tunnel, and walks to the bathroom.
I had previously noticed on my attempt to use the bathroom that the door does not fully close, and the light will not go on because the door does not fully close. I also noticed that a broken door did not deter someone from spreading poo all over the seat and mirror. Both noted, I make my back to my seat, I slowly walk to my seat, holding the backs of chairs as the safety video tells us to, and try to figure out who did that to the bathroom. No one stands out as a suspect. I can only rule out myself, my seatmate, and the man across the aisle in Columbia Football sweatpants, and his seatmate.
4:00, I am the first one off the bus.
I thank the bus driver, and I realize that my next bus ride to DC will not be on a Greyhound.
It's been several hundred accident-free miles with you.
12:01 bus from DC to NY. I almost didn't make the 12:01 bus. Three people ahead of me, and the driver announces that the bus is full. He asks if anyone is "riding single." I raise my hand, M pushes me to the front of the line, ticket is ripped, and I'm the last one to board. Second row, aisle seat.
The overhead is full. I manage.
I see an abundance of seats. The first rows behind the driver are empty, and most people are sitting sans seatmate. Bus driver even says that the bus so empty that if we, the people in the front, wanted to talk on our phones, we should sit towards the back.
Full, empty. Liars at Greyhound. I could have been made to wait another hour for next bus because this bus driver wanted less people on the bus. I probably have been made to wait another hour for the bus because a bus driver wanted less people on the bus.
We drive. It's only 12:56.
My seatmate is quiet. She enjoys listening to music, drinking Ethos water, and eating sandwiches.
One rest stop. In Maryland, an hour into our trip. I buy a travel mug that will let the world know (a) Don't bother me, I'm crabby and (b) I made a purchase in Maryland.
I text M, I text P and plan a trip to visit her next weekend, via car.
I watch the next two episodes of Picket Fences, Season One, Disc One. I watch the last two episodes of 30 Rock, Season One, Disc One. I study.
Bus driver pulls over, gets out, and adjusts side-view mirror. Loudmouth Married Woman repeatedly tells her husband that we have a flat tire. I worry slightly, and ready myself to text M and complain. We continue.
Bus driver pulls over immediately before the Tunnel, and walks to the bathroom.
I had previously noticed on my attempt to use the bathroom that the door does not fully close, and the light will not go on because the door does not fully close. I also noticed that a broken door did not deter someone from spreading poo all over the seat and mirror. Both noted, I make my back to my seat, I slowly walk to my seat, holding the backs of chairs as the safety video tells us to, and try to figure out who did that to the bathroom. No one stands out as a suspect. I can only rule out myself, my seatmate, and the man across the aisle in Columbia Football sweatpants, and his seatmate.
4:00, I am the first one off the bus.
I thank the bus driver, and I realize that my next bus ride to DC will not be on a Greyhound.
It's been several hundred accident-free miles with you.
Saturday, March 8, 2008
ticket to (not) ride
6:30 bus from New York to DC. Third row - right side of the bus - window seat. I used the overhead compartment. I'm aboard the "Pirate Ship," a nickname designated to my vessel by the Peter Pan Bus company.
Seatmate was a quiet man who enjoys sleeping and staring at his hands. Child in the seat in front of me -- so quiet I didn't know he was there until I saw his reflection in the window, and we were near Baltimore by then. The ideal Greyhound child.
I watched two Netflix - Freaks and The Green Butchers. Watched the pilot episode of Picket Fences. Studied.
Ride was fast, uneventful, and quiet.
Rainy, but fast. No rest stops, and that's the way I like it.
I wanted to take a cab from the bus station in DC to my destination.
The cab drivers usually gather outside the doors, and solicit for rides. Bother you about rides, ask where you are going even if you don't want a cab, demand to know where you live.
Not this time. Not this night. Not so easy.
Two cab drivers pull up and ask me where I am going. I tell them, and they respond by shaking their heads. No. No. No, they will not drive me. Another cab driver didn't respond, but didn't drive away. I take that as a "Get in. " I walk to the car...and he pulls away. Fairway Cab Association...I'll remember. I hold grudges.
One cab driver said yes, and then went to find MORE people to drive, and that annoyed me. I waited over 5 minutes for him to come back. He found no other eligible passengers. He'd take me "anyway." I told him that I would wait for another cab, he seemed shocked. Riders have dignity, sir. I don't want to be your last-choice passenger.
Eventually I got a cab with two other people. $7.50 plus tip.
-l
Seatmate was a quiet man who enjoys sleeping and staring at his hands. Child in the seat in front of me -- so quiet I didn't know he was there until I saw his reflection in the window, and we were near Baltimore by then. The ideal Greyhound child.
I watched two Netflix - Freaks and The Green Butchers. Watched the pilot episode of Picket Fences. Studied.
Ride was fast, uneventful, and quiet.
Rainy, but fast. No rest stops, and that's the way I like it.
I wanted to take a cab from the bus station in DC to my destination.
The cab drivers usually gather outside the doors, and solicit for rides. Bother you about rides, ask where you are going even if you don't want a cab, demand to know where you live.
Not this time. Not this night. Not so easy.
Two cab drivers pull up and ask me where I am going. I tell them, and they respond by shaking their heads. No. No. No, they will not drive me. Another cab driver didn't respond, but didn't drive away. I take that as a "Get in. " I walk to the car...and he pulls away. Fairway Cab Association...I'll remember. I hold grudges.
One cab driver said yes, and then went to find MORE people to drive, and that annoyed me. I waited over 5 minutes for him to come back. He found no other eligible passengers. He'd take me "anyway." I told him that I would wait for another cab, he seemed shocked. Riders have dignity, sir. I don't want to be your last-choice passenger.
Eventually I got a cab with two other people. $7.50 plus tip.
-l
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
king of the road
There's a psychoanalytic construct known as Thanatos that derives its origins from Greek mythology. It is believed that this so-called "death drive" impels us to engage in risky and self-destructive behavior, which ultimately equates with our desire for death. This drive is in direct opposition with the concept of Eros or the life/love force. The two are said to create a balance to which we navigate throughout our lives. One might postulate that taking a greyhound bus every 2 weeks is a means of enacting Thanatos but sometimes its even more devious, more sinister than simply the will to constantly take in the recycled air and the smell if illegally smuggled baba ganoush.
It should stand as no surprise to those who read the greyblog that I have had my fair share of obstactles when it comes to the relatively 'simple' feat of riding the bus. I've had delays and customer service incidents, but none have been more harrowing then the realization that I had erronously misplaced ticket while already at Port Authority. While ticket fares purchased online are relatively cost effective, buying a ticket at the station is not. My first experience with this situation involved furious phone calls, a 10 dollar fee and a lot of rattled nerves. Solutions were formed, promises were made.Life quickly went back to normal.
This past Sunday as I prepared to embark on my journey, jokes are made about the whereabouts of my ticket. The present company, myself included, all had a good laugh at my expense/folly. I made a remark about "learning from my mistakes," as I patted my ticket that fit snuggly in my left coat pocket. As if a scene from a film, I shook it gingerly to make sure it was there. Sadly, life does not offer a screen shot warning us of oncoming peril, no close up shot as a cue to prepare us with a sense of forboding.
As I leer in awe of the new fish tanks at the Staten Island ferry, I am oblivious to the world as I read and listen. It is not until I am on the uptown 1 when I realize that the ticket is gone. Again. My first reaction is one of shock, as if the universe (or our roving, invisible director) is in on the joke, and how I will quickly retrieve my belonging. No such luck. I quickly become one of those people on the subway who is feverishly looking through my bag, indicating to all in my proximity that something is not quite right. I am checking my pockets repeatedly and once again patting myself down as a habit every 15 seconds hoping that somehow the ticket will mysertiously reveal itself. The contents of my overnight bag is now overflowing onto places they have no right being-the floor of the filthy subway, encroaching upon my fellow subway riders, etc. Around 18th street I have accepted the fact that it is gone, thrown into the void of mass transport where some lucky (arguable?) fuck can now ride gratis to our nations capitol.
The time for mourning has concluded by the timeI arrive at the station, although the endless thoughts about how better to spend this wasted 23 dollars will swirl around in my mind for the duration of the afternoon. Lori is the first person dialed but is unavailable leaving me to discern who among my friends and family I'll have to burden this process upon. My first few candidates strike out.
This leaves me a good ten minutes where I am sitting on the floor of Port Authority with my phone plugged into the wall reading a book. I have resigned to my fate, realizing that my carefully time constructed day has gone awry and that I am now completely at the mercy of someone else's ability to gain access to the Internet. This, along with my spot on the floor, is an overall humbling experience. It is a reminder that we are all just a few slippery steps away from being the people we silently stop to look and wonder "what exactly are they doing over there?"
It is in this self-actualized, existential moment I recognize my Thanatos and suddenly realize that this is no way to live.
It should stand as no surprise to those who read the greyblog that I have had my fair share of obstactles when it comes to the relatively 'simple' feat of riding the bus. I've had delays and customer service incidents, but none have been more harrowing then the realization that I had erronously misplaced ticket while already at Port Authority. While ticket fares purchased online are relatively cost effective, buying a ticket at the station is not. My first experience with this situation involved furious phone calls, a 10 dollar fee and a lot of rattled nerves. Solutions were formed, promises were made.Life quickly went back to normal.
This past Sunday as I prepared to embark on my journey, jokes are made about the whereabouts of my ticket. The present company, myself included, all had a good laugh at my expense/folly. I made a remark about "learning from my mistakes," as I patted my ticket that fit snuggly in my left coat pocket. As if a scene from a film, I shook it gingerly to make sure it was there. Sadly, life does not offer a screen shot warning us of oncoming peril, no close up shot as a cue to prepare us with a sense of forboding.
As I leer in awe of the new fish tanks at the Staten Island ferry, I am oblivious to the world as I read and listen. It is not until I am on the uptown 1 when I realize that the ticket is gone. Again. My first reaction is one of shock, as if the universe (or our roving, invisible director) is in on the joke, and how I will quickly retrieve my belonging. No such luck. I quickly become one of those people on the subway who is feverishly looking through my bag, indicating to all in my proximity that something is not quite right. I am checking my pockets repeatedly and once again patting myself down as a habit every 15 seconds hoping that somehow the ticket will mysertiously reveal itself. The contents of my overnight bag is now overflowing onto places they have no right being-the floor of the filthy subway, encroaching upon my fellow subway riders, etc. Around 18th street I have accepted the fact that it is gone, thrown into the void of mass transport where some lucky (arguable?) fuck can now ride gratis to our nations capitol.
The time for mourning has concluded by the timeI arrive at the station, although the endless thoughts about how better to spend this wasted 23 dollars will swirl around in my mind for the duration of the afternoon. Lori is the first person dialed but is unavailable leaving me to discern who among my friends and family I'll have to burden this process upon. My first few candidates strike out.
This leaves me a good ten minutes where I am sitting on the floor of Port Authority with my phone plugged into the wall reading a book. I have resigned to my fate, realizing that my carefully time constructed day has gone awry and that I am now completely at the mercy of someone else's ability to gain access to the Internet. This, along with my spot on the floor, is an overall humbling experience. It is a reminder that we are all just a few slippery steps away from being the people we silently stop to look and wonder "what exactly are they doing over there?"
It is in this self-actualized, existential moment I recognize my Thanatos and suddenly realize that this is no way to live.
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