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.

double trouble

Remember how last week I had two tickets for DC....well this week I had none.

My day planner, which I swear by, told me that I had a bus ticket with a time and ticket number -- A -02. I went to print it out, and no ticket. I checked my text-ticket, no ticket. I went onto Bolt...no ticket in My Trips. I frantically called M and he quickly found that every bus line, except Greyhound, was sold-out. Credit card information was exchanged, and I picked up my ticket from the kiosk.

The line was long. I somehow got on the 5:00. There was mass confusion. I got the first window seat behind the driver. I asked a second driver sitting across the aisle if I had time to throw out my coffee (cold blueberry coffee from lunch...very old and cold)...he said there should be a garbage outside. I walked off the bus, saw a Greyhound employee and asked if I could run inside and throw out my coffee. He gestured for me to hand it to him. I reluctantly did so...and he threw it, threw it, into the bus lot...some of it splashed on some suitcases! Thanking him, I quickly walked back to my seat.

Mass confusion, people confused, Greyhound confused. Someone is in the BATHROOM already...and seats are filled. A woman sits next to me and spills ice all over me and my seat. She had a cup of half melted-ice. We pick it up from my seat which is now soaking wet. Her daughter/niece/or relative of some sort is sitting behind me. I switch seats with her -- to be nice, to not have a wet seat, and to not have to listen to them talk back and forth the entire trip.

I do not watch my DVDs - Northanger Abbey and Dr. Katz. My DVD player wasn't fully charged -- I expected to be on a bus with some outlets! I read and finished the Memory Keepers Daughter. I cried, on the bus. I texted about crying. My seat-mate (not the best, I will be kind and not say what I really think) asked me what I was reading. I couldn't even explain. I cried.

I read HeyDay. I did not cry, but I am now interested in finding where the quarantine hospital for sick immigrants was located on Staten Island.

We get to DC quick. Quite quick, despite there being a fire near/in the Lincoln Tunnel. We had 2 drivers, they drive tag-team...maybe that helped. So quick, quicker than Bolt ever got me anywhere. Nobody outruns the Hound. Speed may beat outlets.

The bathroom -- no seat. Just a hole. With everything sloshing around in blue inside. Outhouse style. I use it anyway.

Get to DC. My cab driver talks, I listen.

Fast ride, Bad seatmate, Sad book...but at least I got on..Greyhound and their first-come, first serve philosophy once again works to my advantage.

that's the way it is

5:30 bus to DC. I printed out my tickets a few hours before, noticing that I accidentally purchased 2 tickets. On Greyhound, this would have been easily resolved. I have traveled with the wrong date, wrong time, wrong direction tickets at least twice before -- I won't claim that I wasn't nervous about it. I usually start to sweat and fidget and get nervous -- see past blogs, unless I didn't write about that. In that case, see M's brother for details.
I wait in the rain. I ask a fellow Bolt waiter what she thinks I should do about my extra ticket. I buy a $6.00 sandwich that turns out to be just cheese-tomato-alfalfa sprouts on wheat bread leaving me sorely disappointed on the Delaware Memorial Bridge.
The driver lets us all on without checking tickets. I load my SUITCASE (for next week's vacation...I didn't go anywhere this week) onto the bottom of the bus. First time I did that. I walk on, and take a seat. I take two seats. I stand in front of the seat with the outlet. My bag takes the window seat. A man asks if he can get in the window seat -- NO. I look out the window, squint my eyes, and pretend that I am waiting for the person who I said (lied) I am waiting for.
Everyone is seated...so far I told two people that both of my seats were taken. I hope the woman I spoke to earlier in regards to my ticket did not witness my fibbery. Driver calls Bolt to confirm a rider's ticket -- he did print it, but he never retrieved it from the printer.
Driver announces that he will check tickets starting in the back -- before he does that, I get his attention and explain my situation. He said that I could probably get my money back from the company. I would never follow up with that -- so I asked if I could sell my ticket to a standby person -- or I would just use my ticket and take two seats. He said “we’ll see what happens.” I decide that I will take the two seats, because I paid for two seats. Let the standbys wait for the next bus.
The man in the aisle seat across from me tells the Driver that he doesn't have a ticket. He needs to buy one...and he is already on the bus. Other stand-bys are waiting outside. This would not have happened if the tickets were checked earlier, but I try to make it work to my advantage. I interrupt. I was eavesdropping but this time it paid off. Paid off in FACE VALUE! I ask the driver if I can sell my ticket to this man. A blind eye turned and money is exchanged. I don't want to set a bad example -- scalping Bolt tickets, well...just ask Randy Cohen. He'll tell you not to do it.
TIme goes on; the driver checks the tickets of me and my new friend.
Standby's get on. My seatmmate had a function to get to -- had a black dress with her. She enjoys using wireless internet, reading and writing about climate change, and watching the movie.
Driver tells us to not remove our shoes, as this is against the DOT rules.
The movie -- I forgot the name, but it has Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt. (ed. Mr. and Mrs. Smith- massive marketing campaigns do not affect L)
I watch the Ice Storm. I love the Ice Storm. It rained outside the bus, it added to the movie experience.I read. I texted. I looked around.
Bus arrives quite late. I have to crawl into the bottom of the bus to get my suitcase. I am happy that I remembered to get it. I take a cab to M's. It was a legit cab with a meter. No love is lost between the driver and I.
Bus to NY. The line snakes around a building. People are filling out surveys. I want one, bad. M goes in search of one. He returns with survey and a pen. The survey was never collected at the end of the trip. I answered every question. I am neutral on the usefulness of the foot rests but am first on bus! I recognize my seat mate from the TO DC bus. She recognizes me, I believe. She couldn't find her ipod in her apartment on Friday morning. It may be lost. She does not have a book. She texts to pass the time. Then -- and this is unbelievable. I took cell-phone photos and video as proof -- The driver announces that his #1 choice of movie would not be able to be shown --- not everyone was over 18. A child is on the bus. What happens because of this child gives me yet another reason to want children banned on coach buses.
He puts on a DVD of Celine Dion Videos. There is a collective groan. For my opinion, look at my rating on Netflix. Or you can continue reading. I could not stop watching. I somehow knew every song. My seatmate was shocked that this could be happening. We talked about it at length. She also knew the songs. We commented on the videos and live concert footage. I had a newspaper, a magazine, two books, and a DVD player with a disc of House inside. But my eyes were glued. I recognized songs from several movies.
An elderly woman in the seat in front of me totters to the bathroom. She comes back. No toilet paper. She tells the driver. She wants a rest-stop, now. A vote was taken in which the will of the group was to keep driving. The woman yells that this is not a democracy. The driver eventually submits and we stop at a rest-stop. We continue to NY. The Driver says that he will show us one more video. What a jokester. Saw an ad for MegaBus on the R train.

Seat-mate, quiet service dog.

Will you be traveling with oxygen or a respirator?

Do you have a service dog?

Do you have a hearing disability?

Do you have a vision disability?

Do you have a wheelchair?



Call Bolt! Or Click on their Special Travel Needs link, and put in your phone number. Bolt will call you back, and set you up with some (not legally required till 2012) accommodations!

I first read this in the May Issue of Able News -- the newspaper positively for, by, and about the disabled. My weekend mode of transport and my work-related free newspaper finally met and surprised me -- Said that Bolt is 100% accessible -I had an inkling because of the wheelchair picture near the doors of the bus, but 100%? Bolt... I've used your bathrooms.

TANGENT: I have witnessed a Greyhound employee say "You're on the wrong line...WRONG LINE. What are you, deaf? READ MY LIPS, wrong line..." to someone who WAS deaf or hard of hearing...so Bolt..you definately beat Greyhound there. And me as well, since as I may or may not have written in the blog, I told the same person what bus to get on, which I also got on, and it was the wrong bus.

I would copy and paste the article here, but ablenews.com requires a password. A PASSWORD.

And someone who knows who she is TOOK my Able News right off my desk, so I cannot scan it in for you. And i got that one at the Library, not even at work.

I did some research... if reading the FAQs on Bolt's website can be considered research.


I have a disability and want to travel, what do I do?

On the home page you’ll see a link for customers with disabilities. Click on this link and you’ll be guided through the process. We recommend (as with all our customers) that you use this link and make a reservation in advance, save some money and guarantee your place on the bus. Walk up customers are always welcome on a space available basis.

Is your fleet wheelchair lift equipped?
Yes, the BOLTBUS fleet is 100% wheelchair equipped.


Not much information, but I am curious about the hearing disability options.

plans get complex

4:47 PM: Hello faithful readers. First and foremost- for those of you in the DC area, some of my bus musings have made it off the internet and published in this week's Onion (DC only) so peep it! I forgot to include a plug about the blog, an inexcusable oversight that can never be corrected. This was our chance for regional fame!
Back to business: Arriving at the bus stop, a large queue leads hopeful passengers half way down the block. The 3 PM was quite late so I take this as an opportunity to get a sandwich. After refusing to pay 7.50 for a hummus sandwich at Cosi (perhaps this was made from gold plated chick peas?) I take a chance on Potbelly, a franchise I have narrowly avoided since moving to DC. Their "vegetarian" is a mushroom sandwich but was loaded with enough hot peppers to make it worth my time. I return to a much shorter line and inquire around regarding our status. Turns out the 4 PM is on its way. The girl in front of me frowns at this development, complaining aloud that her friend is stuck in an elevator with their tickets. She moans and hopes this bus is as late as the last. Your predicament is surely tragic, but should we all be late to our evening's events because your friend didn't take the stairs? I think not.
This same passenger takes this dilemma as an opportunity to hit on the brooks brother type standing in front of her. His tortoise shell glasses made me wish I was a lawyer. "That's all there are in this town, politicians and lawyers" he coyly remarks, dusting off a script he breaks out nightly. This girl is interested, he is not. She talks about her hotel in Times Square that awaits her and begins lamenting the night that is slowly getting away. They exchange cards which she justifies for "networking" purposes. He boards the bus while she shirks to the sidelines and begins to wait on the elevator operators.

5:02PM: One of my professors sent out an email that our final papers are outside her office and grades have been posted online. This email was sent at 3:44. It is now 5:05 and my browser shows nothing. I have been refreshing like a crazy person but still...nothing. Can't something be done?!?! I can't be that guy who emails the teacher asking for his individual grade. Can I? Only time will tell and bus time is akin to dog years...it stretches far beyond how humans normally perceived it.

5:21PM: I emailed my professor.

5:29PM: Got my grade via email! A-! Now I can watch Julien Donkey Boy in peace.

8:21PM: Just finished Julien Donkey Boy, as we continue to crawl on the crowded rainy turnpike. I just might beat l's record of longest trip...fingers crossed?