Bus Ride Home

On Saturday our tickets weren’t listed again, and we wouldn’t be able to authorize changes until Monday. So, we decided to take the bus home because we would be home by Monday if we did.
I have never taken the bus before. It was an experience.
It was a very different atmosphere. In the airport you are surrounded by businessmen and businesswomen; hurriedly walking through the airport wheeling their black luggage, sipping their Starbucks coffee. At the bus station people are very casual. They are tired. Perhaps they have been driving all night. The limits on luggage are generous and the waiting area is strewn with bags, pillows, blankets, people sitting on the floor or resting in a chair.
I gave my ticket to the bus driver before I bordered the bus. I wasn’t sure on the exact protocol, which was obvious, because I broke it. Right before I handed my ticket to the bus driver I separated the ticket from the stub. Oops! “You can’t get on the bus”, the driver gruffly told me. “You have to buy a new ticket.” I told him I was sorry, I was just trying to be helpful. “Don’t be helpful!” he retorted. Maybe he had pity because I looked about to cry. Doubtfully, but he did let me get on the bus. “I’ll let you on the bus this time, but if you do that again someone else isn’t going to let you get on,” he warned. I guess he was trying to be helpful too.
Then the customary announcements. No drinking, no smoking, no feet in aisles, etc.. But his delivery wasn’t customary. “There will be absolutely NO drinking. ZERO tolerance. If I find you, you are out. There will be NO smoking. ZERO tolerance. No feet in aisle. If I see you, you are out! I don’t care if it’s the middle of the freeway. We are leaving you behind!”
Perhaps the drivers feel they have to be rude to keep everyone in line. I could hear the man behind us talking to his fiancée on his cell. He was telling her, the bus driver runs a pretty tight ship. Reminds him of how he use to run his preschool class.
During the night a few hours into the trip, we heard from our friendly bus driver again, “Someone is spraying perfume. Stop it! I have allergies. Don’t do it again!” It was actually comical, because he was so openly lacking in relational skills.
At one stop a different bus driver got off the bus, and walked over to the Wendy’s. A few passengers trickled off to stretch their legs and have a quick smoke. She came back upset, “Get back on the bus. Who told you you could get off?” Strange, what made them think they could get off a parked bus?
We had one friendly driver, out of the four. Nevertheless, they got us to Chicago.
We had been traveling for about 36 hours. I was exhausted and irritable. Maybe that’s why the drivers are rude. We rode the train to our truck, and drove the last four hours home – Finally!
When we saw our boys again, I was surprised how noisy they were. How quickly I forget. I am also amazed how quickly I can become accustomed to only caring for myself (and other adults). It took a little time to adjust back to the demanding needs of small children.
It was sad to see our vacation come to an end. As my sister said, “That was the most relaxing vacation I have ever taken.”