on busing

It was pitch black and freezing last weekend in Hartford, Connecticut when Greyhound, for the second time in two days, failed me miserably. We were, in typical public transportation fashion, at the midway point between Boston and New York, when our driver quietly pulled our bus to the side of the road, and stopped. In my post-movie state of sleepy delirium, (during which drool had slid down the right side of my face and dried there in a crust mask), it took me almost half a minute to register the change. Utter silence reigned in the bus for a few moments, as other zoned out riders also shook themselves into consciousness. Then suddenly, there arose a low, shifty mumbling as people began to realize, that indeed, something had gone horribly wrong. The mumbling progressed from barely noticeable to approaching deafening, when finally, the crochety woman behind me yelled: "Why de' hell are we stopped?" After a hushed pause, the driver responded, rather mournfully, that we had a flat tire.

Delivering bad news to any large group of people is always risky (notable personal examples being: "the field trip is canceled" and "we have a pop quiz today"), and this was no different. A roar, peppered with curses and gutteral sounds of displeasure, emerged from the back of the bus, and I heard clicks of cell phones being snapped open so that passengers could angrily whisper a report of our situation to the outside world. One notably hilarious exception: a loud, scruffy man whose only suitcase was a bulging pillow. His phone call, for the entire bus to hear, went as follows: "Hey dude. Guess what. We're on this f***ing bus in the middle of f***ing nowhere with a flat tire. Yes, that's right. I guess my bad karma came back to bite me in the ass. But guess what, yours did too because I'm sitting here next to this totally hot college chick and you're all alone on your couch. Pause. Yeah, she's totally hot." And then to her, "Hey baby." A small flirty giggle from her, followed by a collective guffaw from the entire bus. ETA to Queen-sized bed at 44 Charnwood: 2:00 a.m.