shiftless when idle (mega-bust!)

This past week was my first and last Megabus experience. It all started innocently enough at the corner of 11th and G. Unsurprisingly, the party got off to a bumpy start that involved me sitting on a non-air conditioned bus for 30 minutes. The driver kept explaining that she couldn’t put the bus on because she got a summons for “idling” earlier today. Turns out the hold up was a gentleman on the phone with the bus company who was unsure as to whether this was his bus. I myself had a similar confusion (we’ll get to this later) but decided that 15 minutes after the bus was supposed to leave was not the appropriate time to be contacting the company and making arrangements.
I sat in the second to last row and it smelt like manure. Also, the seat/bench I was sitting on swiveled leaving me to swirl around every time the driver moved abruptly. This was a problem as I’d characterize this woman’s driving style as heavily influenced by free jazz. The bus had short bursts of power and then stopped on a dime, following no traffic pattern I’m familiar with.
The bus was filled with tourists which wasn’t really an issue until we got into the New York area and then people’s view became important. A man in front of me ate something that by its pungent odor and general shape could only be described as a cheese patty (Think beef patty/rice cake with a smell of cheese). Every time he ate one, I would look up from my book because the stench had taken hold. This happened three times. He told stories about getting ridiculed in DC about his Rangers baseball hat. If a Capitals/Rangers rivalry exists, it is not recognized by the fine sports fact gathering folks at Wikipedia making this not completely implausible but kind of suspicious. What other lies was he telling? Three very nice individuals from South Dakota sat behind me and asked me for advice on where to go. I told them to avoid Times Square and to eat at John’s Pizzeria on Bleeker. After living in New York for about two decades, these are the only suggestions I can muster up when pressed. I also told them not to trust anyone’s directions because invariably they are wrong. Only in New York!
In the scope of bus rides, the ride home was a nightmare. Cell phone use was out of control with the loudest perpetrator seated directly behind me. He seemed to be desperate to talk considering the two people he did call had not known he was in New York that weekend. He carried on basically the same conversation twice, mentioning that he had a 15 minute presentation coming up and that his work concerned Aviation and Belgium. Apparently, it’s his job to make sure Belgium turns a profit with their air travel? I am not sure. I also found it odd that the recipients of these calls did not know what this man’s job entailed, leaving me to assume once again that this man was seriously reaching out to second perhaps third string friends on this bus ride. Other things I now know about this individual include: he doesn’t like to listen (as demonstrated by his incessant yammering), he thinks that the MoMA is something to “see once and that’s it,” and he enjoys kicking the seat in front of him. At the time my mind was racing trying to wish harm upon him and his family but my rage has since subsided.
Now faithful readers I will state 5 reasons why you should boycott using the Megabus line:
1) There is no flexibility to reschedule without incurring a fee. This is currently not the case with Bolt, Greyhound, Apex or DC2NY. I paid ten dollars to change my bus for another two hours earlier.
2) They stop at rest stops in New Jersey to “change drivers.” Why this is necessary for a 5 hour trip is beyond me. How the other driver gets to this rest stop without abandoning another bus/ and how they get home is a mystery although I’m pretty sure the explanation involves the phrase “park and ride.”
3) Cell phone use is not discouraged/ drivers do not verbally shame those who do it. This is a real problem that has the potential to become an epidemic.
4) There is no way to know whether the bus you are on is express to NYC or instead stops at White Marsh Maryland. One bus I took stopped while the other did not.
5) My friend Pia missed out on seeing Wire because of their mega-incompetence. This could happen to you or YOUR friend Pia!
Please share your stories if you have them…we’re here to listen.
-m

it's all gonna break

The Friday afternoon crowd at the DC Bolt stop has provided this blog with a nice amount of fodder but last week’s events take the cake. A mass of confusion swirls upon boarding and although I am scheduled for a 3:00pm departure, I am shuffled onto a bus around 2:40. A privileged problem, I'll admit. Three blocks into our journey disaster strikes! The driver announces that the bus has broken down. This feels like an odd declaration considering its still moving and has not seeming lost any of its bus going capacities. How often does a broken down bus drive back to its journey’s starting point? Through the seats, I notice that one gentleman has already incorporated this minor tragedy into a twitter update. Thank goodness!
We arrive back at 11th to find three buses and a complete lack of functional direction. I board a bus only to find there are no seats left. People are yelling, demanding answers. Tickets are shoved in drivers’ faces while the staff argues amongst itself. Around 3:20 I have finally left DC seated next to a chatty cathy who bellows her plans and opinions in a matter usually reserved for those in promotional agreements with P.T Barnum. I am also 33% sure that at points she pretends to read her book.
The trip home came in the midst of an oppressive heat wave, part of which had temporarily transformed my knees to resemble Bunsen burners after a nail biter at Yankee stadium the afternoon prior. I cozy up to my copy of Don Delillo's White Noise in-between afternoon siestas. My seatmate is an interesting, somewhat intense older woman who wields a laptop and a box full of smelly veggies from Sbarro's. She almost exclusively reads MLB.com for the duration of the trip, a site not within my first 500 guesses of her assumed internet browsing material. She makes frequent phone calls regarding the traffic behind us, even referencing a chat she had with the driver. Apparently the bus that preceded us took an hour getting out of the Lincoln tunnel. Hearing this, I am left with an undeniable sense of Schadenfreude, patting myself on the back for prudently picking the right departure time. During one call, she states that she'll get to DC in about an hour or so but that this is just "guesswork." You have to respect this kind of professionalism within colloquial exchanges.
At some point during the trip my body realizes that it hasn’t ingested anything for about 8 hours and that it is desperately in need of nourishment. My only preparation for my journey is two ziploc bags of oatmeal cookies my mom made. The rest stop left me with dismal choices (a fast food seafood restaurant's crab pretzel left me with a mild case of existential dread) I inhale the cookies with a fervor that would embarrass those who raised me. I am pawing out crumbs, spooning them into my mouth. Some trickle down my mouth...others onto my lap. I am shoeless, eating strange looking prepared food out of plastic baggies. I come to the silent realization that no one in their right mind would choose me as a seat partner.
-m

no shoes, no service

It's Monday morning, and I am trying to make a 10 AM bus. There is a line. This is a vacation day for me, a poorly utilized one -- but a vacation day nevertheless -- what are you people doing on a bus today? I am truly surprised. I expected a quiet double-seated ride. I expected half-empty. Optimists see the bus as half-empty.

What does not surprise me is the two Out-of-Order Ticket kiosks. I am forced to wait on line, and speak to someone get my ticket printed. M holds my spot in the NY bus line. The ticket is printed, and I sign for it WITH A GREYHOUND PEN. I wanted to take the pen. Unlike hotel soap, I left it behind.

I am one of the last people on the bus. As I wait to get my ticket ripped, I eavesdrop -- but how could I not -- the driver and another person were talking directly in front of me. I wasn't even trying to not look interested. Baggage had a meeting! -- yes,apparently there are enough people working in "Baggage," perhaps overseeing the printing and stocking of the paper luggage tags to attend meetings, and meetings large enough to take place UPSTAIRS, an area in the Greyhound terminal that I did not know existed. (ed. note: L has never looked up in the terminal, apparantly) And what happened to those paper luggage tags...Baggage, come on.

I digress...

Baggage had a meeting -- and this particular driver, based on past conversations with Baggage, and the information she gleaned regarding said meeting, feels that the Hound is going to start charging for baggage ala American Airlines. I have only used the baggage hold once, so I am not worried. But Greyhound! -- stop with the extra charges already. I wish I had those meeting minutes in front of me now. I am only able to give you the slightest of information, which is just based on the feelings of someone else, who was not expressing these feelings to me, or at least not directly. Indirectly, she told me alot.

I walk on bus, gunning for a front seat.

I ask the first woman..who is sitting near the window, "Is this seat taken?" She points to a bag on the floor in front of the aisle seat.
"So someone is sitting there?" She points again. I clearly huff and puff, and sit directly across from her and her supposedly saved seat.

It's not saved. No one sits there.

I think mean things. Put the bag in the overhead. Put the bag in the baggage hold while it's still free. Put the bag at your feet. She talks on the phone, and gets reprimanded by the driver. I smile. She annoys me. She lounges. Across both seats. She takes off her shoes. M does that, everywhere, and I only deal it because I think I like the guy, but this woman's feet...I did not want them...in my face. Yes, in my face as she is lounging with her bare feet dangling into the aisle. One of her shoes slowly makes its way down the aisle, due to some sort of physics of the starts and stops of the bus. Perhaps even the forces of inertia were at play. I don't know the exact science, but it made its way pretty far down the aisle, and I hoped that it would go missing. Someone eventually picked it up, and gave it back to her. She was happy and surprised. Next time lady, keep track of your footwear. Keeping them on helps.

My seatmate slept. He was quiet. I took out a book to read, only to be disappointed when I remembered I finished the book on the bus to DC...and I finished the other book on the plane. (My flight to TEXAS was faster than Greyhound, quieter, less stinky, while I was also provided with carrots and chocolate and drinks. Where is your beverage service, Greyhound?)I watched some of Dr. Katz.

Got off bus, and made my way to class. Overall it was uneventful, full of well-directed but un-acted-on anger, and quick. No rest-stops or bathroom anecdotes to speak of.